Chapter Eight: Breaking Point

CALISTA

The dull ache in my head was the first thing I noticed as I blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains. My eyes burned from crying all night, and my body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

I hadn’t slept. How could I, when the past twelve hours had flipped my life upside down? My throat was sore and my heart felt like it had been shredded. But there was one thing that still mattered, one thing that kept me going even when the world around me seemed to crumble—Aaron.

Pushing aside the blanket, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, though my knees wobbled beneath me. My reflection in the mirror caught my attention, and I almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back. My hair was a tangled mess, and my face was blotchy and pale. But I didn’t care. Aaron needed me, and I needed him.

I hurried out of the room, my bare feet padding against the cold floor. “Aaron?” I called, my voice hoarse and cracking. There was no response, and panic started to creep in.

I rushed down the hall, my eyes darting around wildly until I spotted two figures ahead: the butler, an older man named Mr. Grayson, and a maid, a petite woman with kind eyes named Clara. They both turned toward me as I approached, their expressions flickering with something I couldn’t quite place—awkwardness, perhaps, or pity.

“Where’s Aaron?” I demanded, my voice sharper than intended.

“Good morning, Mrs Dario” Mr. Grayson said “Young Master Aaron is having breakfast with Mr. Dario in the dining room.”

Relief washed over me, but it was quickly followed by a surge of unease. “Thank you,” I mumbled, brushing past them. I could feel their eyes on me, their silent judgment or concern—it didn’t matter. I had to see my son.

I reached the dining room, my heart pounding as I pushed the door open. The sight before me stopped me in my tracks.

Aaron sat at the long dining table, his small frame dwarfed by the oversized chair. He was grinning, his cheeks stuffed with food as he chatted animatedly with Mr Dario, who sat at the head of the table, his wheelchair positioned neatly beneath him. They looked… natural, like a father and son who had shared countless breakfasts together.

The scene felt like a punch to the gut.

“Aaron,” I said, my voice trembling.

He turned, his face lighting up. “Mommy!” He hopped off his chair and ran toward me, wrapping his arms around my legs. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

I crouched down, pulling him into a tight hug. “Good morning, sweetheart,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “I missed you.”

“Missed me? But I was right here!” he said, his laughter ringing out.

His small hands touched my face, his brows furrowing. “Mommy, why do your eyes look funny? Were you crying?”

I froze, my throat tightening. “No, baby,” I said quickly, brushing back his curls. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

He didn’t look convinced. His bright eyes studied my face intently.

“Mr. Cassius said he’s my dad! We’re having pancakes!

My stomach twisted. “Did he?” I asked softly, glancing up at Cassius.

He met my gaze with a calm expression, but there was an icy edge in his eyes. “He deserves to know the truth, doesn’t he?” he said.

“Why don’t you finish your breakfast?” Cassius said, his voice smooth but laced with authority. “I need to speak with your mother.”

Aaron looked at me, his eyes questioning. I gave him a reassuring nod. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”

“Okay” He said hoping back to the chair.

Cassius gestured for me to follow him. We stepped into the adjoining sitting room, and the moment the door closed, the mask of civility he’d worn in front of Aaron slipped away.

“You’re a mess,” he said bluntly, his gaze raking over me.

I crossed my arms, ignoring the sting of his words. “What do you want, Cassius?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we talked about ground rules?” he said, his tone cold.

“Ground rules?” I repeated, incredulous. “You’ve been in Aaron’s life for less than a day, and you’re already making rules?”

His expression hardened. “He’s my son, Calista. I have every right to decide what’s best for him.”

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped, stepping closer. “Don’t act like you care about what’s best for him when you didn’t even know he existed until yesterday!”

“That’s because you kept him from me,” he said, his voice rising. “Six years, Calista. You let me sit in the dark for six years while you played mother of the year.”

“Played?” I hissed. “I was mother of the year. I raised him alone, Cassius. I did everything for him—alone. And now you show up and think you can just take over?”

“I’m not taking over,” he said, his tone icy. “But things are going to change. Starting now.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

He straightened in his wheelchair, his gaze piercing. “You’ll have limited access to Aaron moving forward.”

The words felt like a slap. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” he said. “From now on, you can speak to him for one hour each day. That’s it.”

“You’re out of your mind,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “He’s my son, Cassius. You can’t dictate when I can and can’t talk to him!”

“I can, and I will,” he said firmly.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” I said, my hands clenched into fists. “Aaron doesn’t even know you. You can’t just—”

“Fifty minutes,” he interrupted, his voice calm but unyielding.

“What?” I asked, stunned.

“Forty,” he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Are you—”

“Thirty,” he cut in.

“Stop!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

“Twenty,” he said, his tone sharp.

I stared at him, my chest heaving as I tried to process the absurdity of the situation. “You’re unbelievable,” I whispered.

“And since you’ve already spoken to him this morning,” he continued, “you won’t be speaking to him for the rest of today.”

My jaw dropped. “You can’t do this, Cassius.”

“I can,” he said, turning his wheelchair toward the door. “And I just did.”

Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me standing there, trembling with disbelief.

—

Back in my room, the silence felt like a punishment. Mrs. Dario. The title echo ed in my mind, a cruel rem inder of how far l'd fallen. Staring at my reflection, I saw a stranger - a woman with lifeless eyes and a broken spirit.

Why me? What did do to deserve this? I turned on the shower, letting the water scald my skin. I wanted it to hurt, to drown out the pain inside, but it didn't. The memories clung to me like shadows- Cassius's cold gaze, Aaron's confused face, the crushing weight of my helplessness. Unable to stay, I left the house, walking aimlessly. The rain started softly, then turned into a downpour.

I didn't care. Let it rain. Let it pour. Maybe the storm could wash away my tears, my regrets, my fears.

Was it wrong to hope for a better life for Aaron? To want peace?

The cold seeped into my bones, my legs wobbled, but kept walking. Why does happiness always feel so far away?

The ache in my chest grew unbearable, and I felt my knees buckle. I reached out for support, but there was nothing to hold onto. My vision blurred, and the world tilted.

Through the haze, a voice reached me—deep and unfamiliar, yet filled with concern.

“Miss, are you all right?”

I tried to focus, but the darkness pulled me under.

The last thing I felt was a pair of strong arms catching me, holding me steady as the storm raged on.

“Hang on,” the voice said, urgency laced in every word. His words barely registered as the world faded to black. Maybe it's better this way.