Shattered Vows: Call Me Auntie Now novel Chapter 95

The anniversary of Mrs. Yates's death arrived.

Early that morning, Quinn brought Leo to the cemetery.

She laid the floral tributes—a beautiful bouquet of white lilies—gently in front of her mother's headstone.

The woman in the photograph smiled gently back at her.

"Mom, I brought your grandson to see you."

Leo was still too young to understand death, but his mother had told him this was his grandmother, his mommy's mommy.

Seeing his mother's somber expression, the little boy stood quietly by her side without making a fuss.

Quinn crouched in front of the headstone, tracing the cold stone with her fingers as if she could somehow feel her mother's warmth through it.

She had only been thirteen when her mother passed away.

Right at the age when a teenage girl needed her mother's protection the most.

The dynamics within the Yates family had always been a minefield. The moment her mother was gone, Quinn lost her only sanctuary.

Her father grieved briefly before burying himself entirely in corporate affairs and endless social engagements.

This gave Cynthia Yates and her daughter free rein to torment her.

Whenever Cynthia was in a bad mood, she would slap Quinn across the face, lock her in a dark room, and starve her.

Yasmine bullied her daily, hurling vicious insults. Whenever they fought and Yasmine lost, she would run to her mother crying and playing the victim.

And inevitably, Cynthia would subject Quinn to another round of beatings and punishments.

With no one to rely on in the Yates household, Quinn had grown sharp, defensive thorns to survive.

When they screamed at her, she screamed back at Cynthia. When they beat her, she fought for the cane and kicked back.

She was even more ruthless with Yasmine—scratching her face, ripping her hair out, or pinning her to the ground until she begged for mercy.

If they wouldn't back down, she would just hit harder next time.

She knew they would never show her mercy, so her only option was to fight back with everything she had.

She used her thorns to fiercely protect her own dignity and her mother's memory.

To outsiders, she was aggressive, unhinged, and impossible to control.

But in the dead of night, she would strip off her armor, wrap her arms around herself, curl into a ball beneath her blankets, and cry for her mother.

Back then, she would sneak out of the house, run to the cemetery, lie beside her mother's grave, and sob out all her grievances.

Quinn asked gently, "Are your parents divorced?"

Raymond shook his head. His stoic face revealed little, but Quinn could feel the heavy, oppressive sadness radiating from him.

"I don't have a mother. Never had one since I was born."

Quinn froze in absolute shock.

Didn't that make his situation even more tragic than hers?

"So, don't be sad. At least you had a mother who loved you."

He was right. At least her mother had been there to love and care for her for thirteen years. He didn't even have a single memory of maternal love to look back on...

At that thought, a lump formed in her throat.

She felt an overwhelming urge to hold him.

Acting before she could think, Quinn took a step forward.

She opened her arms and wrapped them around him.

To a man of his size, her arms were far too short. Even stretched as far as they could go, she couldn't wrap them entirely around his broad frame.