Family on Their Knees Heart Turned to Ice novel Chapter 132

Brandon wasn't particularly surprised by Lillian's revelation. "It's common for wealthy families to have wills, isn't it?"

Lillian pressed, "You're about the same age now as Mom was when she wrote hers. Do you have a notarized will?"

Brandon fell silent.

He realized that even their father hadn't drawn up a will yet.

"Lillian, what are you trying to say? Did she tell you why she made a will back then?"

Lillian's voice was low. "If you really think back... actually, never mind. You wouldn't know. At that time, Dad was deep in his affair with Sabrina. You wouldn't have noticed Sabrina's late-night calls to the house, where she'd tell Mom every little detail about her time with Dad at hotels."

"Lillian, you were only a child then. How could you possibly know that?"

How could she know?

Because sometimes her mother would cry herself to sleep, a broken mess locked away in her room.

And she, woken by the house phone, would go downstairs to answer it, only to hear the mistress's triumphant taunts on the other end: *Martin just got out of the shower. We were busy for a full hour. Have you two ever lasted that long?*

Back then, Lillian didn't understand what an hour meant.

Later, she did.

For a woman who deeply loved her husband, such blatant provocation was like having a knife twisted in her heart.

Lillian recounted these memories to Brandon.

His first reaction was disbelief.

"Ms. Ward is a gentle, well-mannered woman. She would never do something like that.

Lillian, you were young. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

Lillian's gaze turned dark and cold as she stared him down.

Brandon had never seen his sister look so predatory, as if she were ready to devour him. Why was she so hostile?

He hadn't said anything wrong. She was just a kid back then; mishearing or misremembering things was perfectly normal.

Lillian's tone shifted abruptly. "When he marries Sabrina after the divorce, will you call her Ms. Ward, or will you call her Mom?"

Not a single curse word left her lips, but the insult was filthier than any he could imagine.

Here was a man in his thirties, with a living mother, yet he was expected to kiss up to the woman who destroyed her and call her 'Mom.' It was a slap in the face.

He wondered if Brandon had any shame.

Brandon clearly understood the jab, his face darkening. "Lillian, don't make jokes like that."

Lillian pressed on, returning to her previous point. "If you knew she drove Mom to the brink of suicide, forcing her to write a will, would you still support their marriage?"

Brandon countered, "Lillian, Mom is mentally ill. She and Dad can't go back. Even if she got better, their marriage is over.

You're an adult; you should understand that.

What's the point of clinging to a marriage that can't be saved?

Lillian stopped talking. She asked for a blanket, covered herself, and closed her eyes to rest.

Every word spoken to Brandon was a waste of her energy.

Since Lillian refused to speak, Brandon grew bored. After scrolling through his phone for a bit, he asked the flight attendant for a drink.

Perhaps a drink would help him escape.

The plane touched down in Midvale, and a flight attendant gently woke Lillian.

The medication had made her drowsy, but her sleep had been fitful, her mind still active, trapping her in a state of dreaming.

And her dreams offered no escape from a reality she couldn't change.

Her mother would never be the same. The term 'mentally ill' would be tied to her for the rest of her life.

When the flight attendant woke her, she was still disoriented.

She was in Midvale. It had been years since she'd been back.

Lillian cursed herself internally. What a fool she'd been.

All those years, so busy with her relationship, having a baby, raising a child—she had never made time to come back and see the elders in Midvale who had loved her since she was a little girl.

The thought filled her with guilt.

But Brandon, oblivious to her inner turmoil, simply assumed she was still angry about their conversation and was giving him the cold shoulder.