As Aiden, his aunt, and grandmother began to leave, Penny's voice cut through the room like a blade, her words sharp despite their soft tone.
"Dear mother, are you just going to take her back?" Penny asked, her voice sugar-coated but laced with venom.
Her eyes flicked toward Tate, a flash of disgust crossing her face, her brow furrowing in disapproval.
Tate, in turn, looked at her with the same cold, unbothered expression, a faint, mocking smile tugging at his lips.
Penny's attention snapped back to her mother, her voice dripping with a faux sweetness as she continued.
"Oh dear mother, I knew you were too wise to have her back," she cooed, leaning closer to Silvia, her words slipping into her ear like poison.
Silvia remained silent, her frail form slumped in the wheelchair, unable to respond. Penny began pushing her mother back toward her room, the sinister gleam in her eyes betraying her true intentions.
As they moved, Penny's glare hardened, her thoughts darkening as she stared coldly at Silvia.
"I can't believe she was sympathetic to Bae—that girl hasn't even begun to pay for what she did to me!" Penny thought, her hatred festering, every push of the wheelchair feeling like an outlet for her malice.
Penny's gaze narrowed, her expression darkening as she contemplated Bae's return.
"I should've finished her off since she's already as good as dead," she mused, her sinister smile deepening. She glared at Silvia, who sat helpless in the wheelchair, unable to walk, unable to talk, a mere shadow of her former self.
"And as for her," Penny muttered under her breath, the bitterness in her voice rising to the surface, "she'll pay regardless of her new behavior."
Her thoughts then shifted to Zanier and what Granny Elaine might be discussing with him.
"Good thing all he does is use her and discard her like trash," Penny thought, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
Bae never had a true pillar of support, no one to help her when she fell. "And I'll make sure she never does."
As Penny continued to push the wheelchair, her gaze darkened even further, her mind whirring with malicious intent.
"I'll make sure you never see the light, no matter what phases you go through in life," she vowed to herself, her determination solidified with every step.
Meanwhile, Zanier stood motionless, his eyes lingering on his grandparents. His grandfather, once a towering figure, now appeared shrunken and frail, barely able to move, and good as dead while his grandmother, Elaine, tried to keep her composure, though the weight of the years showed on her face.
She looked at him with a mixture of concern and love, sensing the turmoil bubbling beneath his stoic exterior.
"You don't need to beat yourself up, son. Besides, you divorced her for a reason," Elaine said softly, her voice laced with quiet understanding as she searched his face for any signs of emotion.
Zanier's jaw tightened, but his expression remained indifferent, masking the guilt gnawing at him from within.
His mind replayed the events of the day, his encounter with her, the storm of emotions he had been trying to bury.
"And now you're married… with a child," Elaine continued, her voice gentle but heavy with the weight of unspoken things.
Zanier heard the words but felt detached from them. His grandmother's attempts to reassure him did little to soothe the conflicting thoughts swirling in his head.
The guilt felt like a shadow, lurking just behind every word, every thought. He gave a faint, cold smirk, his lips curling ever so slightly, though it felt like an empty gesture.
"Beating myself up?" he repeated, his voice low and cold as if he were speaking to someone else entirely.
The smirk stayed on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was an illusion, a mask to hide the turmoil beneath. "No need to worry, Grandmother."
Elaine let out a small breath of relief, though her eyes still held a flicker of concern.
"that's good to hear. I don't want her presence to disturb you… or your wife and Aiden." Her gaze softened, watching him closely for any sign of unease.
Zanier's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of her. He kept his face neutral, his expression unreadable.
"Her presence means nothing to me," he said flatly, his voice almost emotionless.
"After all, she consented to marry me." His words were sharp, almost cutting, as if he were trying to convince himself.
"And my choice to divorce her."
The lie hung heavy in the air, and he could feel it suffocating him, wrapping around him like a noose.
His tone didn't betray the guilt that sat like a heavy stone in his chest, but it was there—festering, growing with each passing second.
"Besides," he added, his voice growing softer, almost distant,
"Everything is in the past now." The words came out hollow, betraying the storm of emotions he was desperately trying to bury.
Guilt and self-condemnation clung to every syllable, no matter how hard he tried to shake them off.
Elaine watched him closely, sensing the internal conflict but knowing better than to push him. Zanier, though outwardly calm, was struggling to hold himself together.
His faint smile mocked the state he was in, a weak attempt to reassure those around him while he silently wrestled with his demons.
"And moving forward is the best thing to do," he said, his voice steady but distant. "The past is in the past, and what matters is now and the future."
The words echoed in his mind—a motto
he had been trying to live by, but the more he repeated them, the more they felt like lies. His smile stayed on his face, but it was brittle, cracking at the edges.
The past wasn't just in the past. It followed him like a shadow, a constant reminder of what he'd done, and no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it always resurfaced.
"A future she needs to navigate on her own," he added coldly, the smirk still clinging to his lips.
The words were meant to close the conversation, to put distance between him and his guilt.
Zanier leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. His gaze fell toward the window, but his mind was far from the present.
He could see Bae in his mind, her face a constant reminder of the mistakes he couldn't undo. His fingers twitched, a brief flare of tension, before he uncrossed his legs, trying to shake off the feeling gnawing at him.
"I can't even dare to meet her right now," he thought, a hint of bitterness creeping into his expression.
His arrogance flared up for a moment, like a shield against the deeper emotions trying to surface. He couldn't show weakness, not now, not ever.
The thought echoed in his head, and for a fleeting second, he almost believed it. His relationship with Bae had never been built on love—it had been something far more hollow, more self-serving.
A tool he'd used to his advantage, nothing more. And now, as the weight of that truth settled in his chest, he realized just how far he had pushed her away.
"She certainly will never forgive me, nor do I her forgiveness," he thought, his jaw tightening, a sharp pang of guilt flickering behind his cold exterior.
He shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs as though the movement could somehow dislodge the heaviness he felt inside.
"After all she contested to my quest." He thought dismissing his guilt threat to consume him.
Elaine sighed softly, breaking the silence between them.
"I suppose," she began, her voice gentle, though it did little to pierce through Zanier's storm of thoughts.
"Because I never did, to begin with," Zanier said abruptly, his tone dropping, a cold edge sharpening his words.
His eyes, once distant, now snapped to Elaine's with an intensity that made the air between them feel heavier. His serious gaze was unyielding, as though daring her to question him.
Elaine, however, only smiled. The warmth in her expression seemed almost out of place, but she couldn't help but be relieved by his admission.
"Never loved her to begin with?" The question swirled in her mind, but she didn't dwell on it for long.
For her, this was the best possible outcome. She was glad. Glad that Bae had never truly gotten close enough to her beloved grandson to cause any lasting damage.