Elissa suppressed the bitter twist threatening her lips and continued deliberately, “Regardless of my biological connection to Locke, do not feel compelled to pursue a relationship with me out of misplaced duty or guilt-driven reparations.”
After finding out the truth, Elissa felt as though a fog had lifted.
Everything suddenly made sense—why Ernest had always been so kind, so gentle. She finally saw the reason behind it.
Her eyes stayed fixed on him, calm and steady. “You treat me this way because you feel guilty,” she said softly, her voice smooth but firm. “You care because of Locke, not because of me.”
She gave her head a small shake, the motion almost tired. “Fate brought us together and gave us Locke. That’s all there is. We’re his parents—nothing more. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Elissa…” Ernest understood her words, but he didn’t agree. “My feelings for you aren’t just because you’re Locke’s mother…”
“Oh, really?”
Elissa’s smile was faint, but it carried a sharp edge. “Let me ask you this—if I wasn’t Locke’s mother, would you have ever looked my way?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Because deep down, he knew the truth—he wouldn’t have.
“Exactly.” Elissa gave a dry laugh. “You already know.”
She took a quiet breath, her voice even as she went on. “When I came to Srixby a few years ago, I heard all about it. Everyone knew. Ernest Flynn had always been in love with Linda Harris.”
Ernest’s expression hardened at the mention of Linda’s name.
“You still care about her,” Elissa continued, her voice soft but certain. “I’m only here now because of Locke.” Chapters first released on f?ndnovel.net
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“Elissa…” Ernest frowned, shaking his head. “It’s not like that—”
“But it is.” She didn’t budge. “You and Linda were planning a wedding back then.” She remembered it vividly. She had even been hired to design Linda’s dress. “If Locke hadn’t come along, you two wouldn’t have broken up. You wouldn’t have paid me any attention at all.”
Again, Ernest didn’t respond. He couldn’t refute it because that was exactly what had happened.
“As for us…” Elissa’s shoulders dropped, and a trace of exhaustion showed in her eyes. “It was a mistake. And we don’t need to keep repeating it.” She rose slowly from her seat.
“That’s all I wanted to say.” She picked up her bag, her voice quiet. “I should go.”
Before Ernest could move, she stopped him with a glance. “Don’t get up. I don’t need you to walk me out.”
She offered a faint, distant smile. “Goodbye.” With that, she turned and walked away.
Ernest remained seated, still as a statue.
She had turned him down—again.
A sharp frustration bubbled up in him, and without warning, he swept his arm across the coffee table, sending everything flying with a crash.
Shards and spills scattered across the floor.
.
.
.