38.2 The Judge

Xavier looked behind him and saw Louisa. She was wearing a thin nightgown as she crossed her arms. She looks like a cat about to raise her claws.

“Good evening, mother,” Xavier greeted.

“Hah! What’s good about meeting each other tonight? Seeing you will never be pleasant,” Louisa answered.

Suddenly, there was a delicate atmosphere in the air, thin as ice that could be shattered at any moment. Between Xavier and Louisa, a silent war raged. The subtle desire of each person to advance or defend was concealed on their facades.

The maid held her breath while watching. She does not want to meddle between the feud of the foster son and the second wife. However, she lost any chance to escape.

“That’s right,” Xavier agreed to Louisa's statement after a long time. “My mother won’t be happy to see me, I know that.”

Louisa’s face crumpled as she heard him call her that way again.

How brazen, Louisa thought.

“I don’t remember allowing you to call me ‘mother’. I did not give birth to trash.”

“Ahh
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