To ruin an Omega novel Chapter 218

Chapter 218: The Crutch

CIAN

I was an idiot.

The thought looped in my head as I stood in the hallway that led toward my room. My hand was still raised, fingers curled into a loose fist like I’d been about to knock on something. But there was nothing to knock on. Just regret

Ronan had told me to be careful. To think before I spoke. To consider that maybe the intensity of my suspicions came from somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I didn’t want to look.

And what had I done?

I’d walked up to Madeline and still thrown the accusation at her like a grenade.

The look on her face when I’d said it. The way her body had gone rigid. The crack of her palm against my cheek still burned.

I deserved it.

I deserved worse than that.

She’d taken offense. Real, raw offense. The kind that couldn’t be faked. And why wouldn’t she? I’d accused her of murder. Of working for my uncle. Of being some kind of sleeper agent sent to destroy everything I cared about.

Things couldn’t go back to normal after that. Whatever fragile thing we’d been rebuilding, I’d just put a boot through it.

I’d sent Wilhelm to check on her. I couldn’t do it myself. Not when my presence would only make things worse. Not when she’d told me she hated me with tears streaming down her face.

A part of me wondered if the difficulty I had letting go of the suspicion was because there was truth to what Ronan had guessed. That nagging voice kept whispering maybe, maybe, maybe.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

I couldn’t trust my own instincts anymore. Not when they were this tangled up in everything else.

I needed to get rid of that picture. The one I’d kept hidden in my room. The one I should have thrown away years ago. Maybe if I did that, if I finally let go of that last piece of her, the thoughts would stop circling.

Ronan’s hypothesis wouldn’t have to matter. It would just die.

I turned toward my room and took three steps before I stopped.

My mother’s door was open and I could see movement inside.

I changed direction immediately.

My mother was sitting in the chair by the window. I took a good look at her and noticed her hair was brushed. She looked more like herself than she had since we’d brought her back from her poison induced coma.

She saw me and smiled. "There you are. Where have you been?"

"I could ask you the same thing." I stepped into the room and leaned against the doorframe. "You’ve been scarce. Your room looks nice."

She moved her legs in an exaggerated way, pointing her toes and flexing her feet. "Well, I have been bedridden for a while now. I’m going to make do with what I have. Also thank you. Being in a coma did sort of let me see that things don’t have to be the same. I left the room the way it was for a long time because if your father. But I think he’d want me to have this."

I tried to smile. I really did. But it felt wrong on my face and I was certain all I have was a heavy and crooked look.

Her expression shifted. The warmth dimmed just slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"I know you, Cian." She tilted her head. "I’m your mother."

I exhaled through my nose and looked away. Out the window. At the wall. Anywhere but at her face. "I don’t want to talk about it with you. You’re already terrified at the thought."

She went still.

The silence stretched between us and I knew she understood. I didn’t have to say the name.

"Madeline," she said quietly.

I didn’t answer. But she took that as enough.

"I have my reservations and my fears." Her voice was careful now. Measured even. "You know I’m grateful to her. She’s the reason I have this new life. But just because I’m grateful doesn’t mean I’ll turn the other eye."

I glanced at her. She was watching me with that expression mothers got when they knew their child was about to say something they didn’t want to hear.

"And I know I seem over the top," she continued. "I know I’ve been on your throat about this matter. But you can still talk to me. Even if it’s about her. I promise I won’t judge you."

Something in my chest loosened. Just a fraction.

"I was certain you were wrong yesterday," I said. The words came out rough. "But I’m not so sure anymore."

My mother swallowed. "You believe you still have feelings for her?"

"I wish I knew what it was." I pushed off the doorframe and paced to the other side of the room. "I don’t want to hurt Fia. She’s the last person I want to hurt."

I hesitated. "Promise you won’t internalize this in some weird way like I did. I just can’t believe I said those stuff."

"I’m still not hearing anything."

I took a breath and let it out slowly. "I suspected that Madeline could be somehow working for Uncle Gabriel."

My mother’s eyes widened.

"I know," I said quickly. "It’s crazy."

"I wouldn’t say crazy." She was watching me carefully now. Too carefully. "But why? Aldric was the one who brought her. He told me all about it."

"I know." I started pacing again. Three steps one way. Three steps back. "But you were unconscious. And every corner seemed to be against me. Witches didn’t even want to help. Then Madeline was ready to blow up her life to revive and bring you back."

I stopped and looked at her.

"I guess I didn’t want to take that as... I guess it told me that Madeline was still the same old Mads," I said. "That there was no sacrifice she wouldn’t make for me. That her love was still as fervent as ever even if she lied that it was over. And maybe the thought just compounded again and again and again. And I needed to hate her badly to have normalcy again."

The confession hung in the air between us.

My mother was quiet for a long moment. Then she stood. Slower than she used to, but steady. She crossed the room until she was standing right in front of me.

"Squash it out," she said. Her voice was firm. "Talk to her. Get your priorities and boundaries clear. I know you can do that. You hold your father’s seat and you’re doing a damn great job at it. In the matters of the heart, I know you’ll be just as terrific too."

I stared at her. "I half expected you to discourage me. What if this opens a bad door?"

"I’m trying so hard to be objective." She reached up and put her hand on my cheek. The same one Madeline had slapped. "But I know who I raised. And he better not disappoint himself or me."

Something in my throat tightened.

"You want honesty?" my mother continued. "I’m team Fia. I think she’s wonderful and I think you two could be very happy together. But I’m also team you. And if you’re not honest about what you’re feeling, you’ll poison that relationship from the inside out. So figure it out. Be brave enough to look at the truth, even if it’s uncomfortable."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

She pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around her and for a moment I was a kid again. Small, uncertain and grateful that someone else knew how to fix things.

But I wasn’t a kid anymore.

And this was something I had to fix myself.