Chapter 1878 Obvious To Everyone But The Oblivious Recipient

There was a stoplight ahead. Aristotle stopped the car while it was red and gazed outside the window, his eyes grazing the stream of traffic.

“Nothing of importance. Just the usual load of bull that never fails to irritate me.”

He had had a rather strained relationship with Mark since he was a kid. More specifically, after he was three.

All these years, the Tremonts’ father and son were connected only by a thin thread, formed from distant phone calls and nothing else. Even if they had enjoyed a close bond before the incident, the fact that it had been so loosely maintained for so long could only have sped up its deterioration.

Every challenge, quandary, and storm Aristotle encountered in life, the young man had to brave through alone for nineteen long years. That was it; the toll of Mark’s steadfast commitment as a husband was negligence to his duty as a father. Aristotle had tried to be as charitable as he could, but it was an especially tall order when Aristotle himself suffered