My Son’s Bully Was His Old Flame’s Son Chapter 02

My Son’s Bully Was His Old Flame’s Son Chapter 02

When I arrived at the hospital, I rushed straight to Carl’s room.

Even though he was finally out of danger, Carl was still wrapped in thick layers of gauze. His cheeks had sunk in, leaving his face as pale and thin as a sheet of paper.

The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up, then dimmed again as he glanced behind me out of habit. “Mom… Dad didn’t come again?”

“Carl, sweetheart… your dad is still gathering evidence. He’s working hard to punish the boy who hurt you…”

I forced the words out, trying to soothe him, but the bitterness in my chest nearly overflowed.

Just then, a chirpy voice sounded from outside the room.

“Carl, Mrs. Sterling.”

I snapped my head around. Julia Johnson stepped in carrying a cheap, wilting fruit basket and a bouquet of white lilies. Beside her strutted the boy who had brutalized my son, Trent Johnson.

They walked into the room as if they owned the place.

“Finally meeting you in person,” Julia said lightly. “So, have you considered the settlement we discussed?”

Trent raised his middle finger at Carl, smug and arrogant. Carl flinched so hard his entire body trembled. Terror clouded his eyes in an instant.

I moved in front of Carl, my voice cracking into a roar. “Leave. Now. Before I call security.”

Julia put on a patient, lecturing tone. “Mrs. Sterling, there’s no need to be so emotional. Kids fight. It’s just an unfortunate misunderstanding between boys. No reason to escalate things.”

Tears of fury stung my eyes. “An unfortunate misunderstanding between boys? Carl ended up with a fractured rib, intracranial bleeding, and the ICU, and you dare call that small?”

Julia froze for a second. I let out a cold laugh.

“You want a settlement? Fine. Let your son break a rib too—”

Before I finished, Julia yanked Trent into her arms and glared daggers at me. Trent smirked. “Mom, didn’t Joseph say not to be scared of her? He said he’d protect us.”

Hearing Joseph’s name snapped something inside me. I slapped the boy across the face so hard the sound ricocheted around the room. Trent burst into wailing screams.

“You hit my son? You’re dead!”

Julia lunged, grabbing my hair and slapping me over and over.

I’d been weak for weeks, short of breath, chest tight. The world dissolved into a fractured blur of white heat and pain as she dragged me half to my knees, raining blows across my face.

Carl sobbed on the bed, trying to sit up.

“Stop! Please stop hitting her! Mom!”

His sudden movement tore open his wound. Blood seeped through the pure white bandages, blooming into a terrible red.

By the time the police arrived, Julia wasn’t hurt at all except for a few strands of messy hair.

I, on the other hand, was covered in bruises, my clothes ripped, each breath slicing through my ribs like glass.

At the station, I insisted on a medical evaluation and filing charges.

But the officers suddenly changed their tune. They ruled Julia’s assault as “reasonable defense in protection of her child,” and demanded that I apologize to her and Trent.

I shot to my feet so fast my handcuffs bit into my wrists. But when I saw the officer bowing respectfully toward his phone, I collapsed back into the chair.

Joseph. It was Joseph again. He truly couldn’t bear to let his old flame suffer even a scratch.

My throat tightened, as if stuffed with cotton I couldn’t swallow. I refused to apologize and spent three days detained in a dim, cramped cell.

Every minute, every second of those three days dragged like torture. Sometimes, my mind drifted back to that drunken night ten years ago.

When I unexpectedly got pregnant, Joseph told me to keep the baby. Said he would marry me, that he would take care of us. I thought my secret crush had finally blossomed into love.

But it turned out to be nothing more than a warm, hopeful dream that evaporated at dawn.

Three days later, disheveled and exhausted, I walked out of the detention center.

I went straight to the hospital. But when I arrived, the luxury suite where Carl had stayed was now occupied by an elderly woman I had never seen before.

Carl had been moved to a regular ward. He threw himself into my arms and sobbed out his grievance.

“Mom, Dad said I got in trouble at school because I don’t behave… that I deserved it… but I didn’t… I’m good… I listen…”

His crying hooked straight into my heart, sharp and merciless. I swallowed the taste of blood rising in my mouth.

After calming him down, I stormed out of the hospital, shaking with rage. As I passed the luxury suite, I suddenly caught sight of a familiar silhouette.