The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 307

When he said the word "mother," a brutal lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it down ruthlessly. His tone turned razor-sharp. "You have no idea what she did to Sloane. The second I think about it, my blood turns to ice, and I can't even breathe! Grandmother, as long as I draw breath, I will never, ever forgive her."

"Please... I'm begging you. Don't try to change my mind."

Eleanor didn't reply immediately, her eyes flashing with sheer shock.

She knew Rosemary had treated Sloane poorly, but she never imagined Garrison would declare an absolute, irreversible vendetta against his own mother.

She stared deep into his obsidian eyes. Beneath the placid surface, she found something jagged and terrifyingly cold. It was the terrifying stillness of a man who had weighed forgiveness against vengeance, and permanently chosen the latter.

"However," Garrison added, his tone softening a fraction, "I'll make time to visit you more often."

He finished his sentence and offered her a final, deeply emotional embrace, holding onto her fragile shoulders for a long moment before letting go. Standing tall, he turned around, pushed the heavy doors open, and stepped out into the crisp morning light filtering through the plum blossoms.

He never looked back.

*

Just a few feet away, hidden behind the stone pillars of the corridor, his parents had been standing in absolute silence.

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