Swiftly, Tom jabbed the password into his phone and the iron-wrought gate gradually slid open. Gripping the wheel again, he drove onto the large compound and pulled up a distance from the mansion sitting in front of him.

     Stella flicked a curtain, then peered out through the window. Tom was home. She cupped her hands on the glass panel and caught a glimpse of his face. He didn’t look like himself. She knew he wouldn’t. And whose fault was that? That stupid Elodie as usual. She’d never liked their marriage. Never liked her. When Tom had called and told them he’d found the woman of his dreams, Stella sighed and said, “Finally, Son. I want to meet her.”

     They arranged for dinner at her mansion. Tom had arrived with Elodie. Upon setting eyes on her and recognizing Elodie as the woman from the boutique, she frowned. Of all the women on earth, why did her son have to pick her? Till now, she was surprised they weren’t divorced yet, because she didn’t think they’d last a year.

     From the looks of things, Tom had been abusing her. Elodie was one of the most rational women she’d met in her life and she knew she wouldn’t exaggerate about Tom hitting her. To be frank, it didn’t come as a big surprise to her. After witnessing his father’s abuse, it was only normal that he’d turned into one himself. When she saw a therapist after Tom had pushed Anthony over the staircase, she told the therapist that she was worried about her son and not herself. That she was afraid the past was going to traumatize him.

     Her doctor advised her to persuade Tom to see a therapist, but he wouldn’t see a shrink. He was young, and she thought that maybe, with time, he’d forget everything that had happened. After all, the man responsible for the trouble was dead. She had been wrong. Now her darling son was hurting because she failed to do the right thing.

     But not this time. Elodie could forsake Tom. She wouldn’t. She’d always be there for him. If it was possible to marry Tom and take care of him, she would. Clearly, no woman would understand her son and what he’d been through better than her. Which was why she was the only person who could take care of him.

     Tying the straps on her luxury nightgown, she passed by her sleeping husband she married a year after Anthony died. Jeffrey was sweet, unlike Anthony. He’d never laid a finger on her since they got married. Perhaps, it was true love or it could be that she was controlling him with her wealth. After Anthony died, she and Tom inherited a fortune. His business. The mansion. The cars. No family member stepped up to fight with them over the property, as Anthony didn’t leave a will behind. His premature death hindered that.

     All his relatives were billionaires just like Anthony. No need to fight over his property and besides, Stella was such a lovely wife to Anthony in their eyes. His son, perfect. Her life now was excellent, and she intended to keep it that way. The only problem was her son. If she could find a woman who wouldn’t cause trouble for him, she would. But the problem wasn’t with the women. It was Tom. He needed help. She’d turned a blind eye for so long.

     Sighing, she went out of the room, climbing down a long spiral staircase to the grandiose living room that featured only state-of-the-art furniture. A uniformed woman stood, dusting the sofas. As she approached, another woman in a similar outfit neared her with a cup of steaming coffee. She took it and said, “Thank you.”

     “My son will be at the front door any moment. Let him in,” she added and blew over the coffee.

     “Yes, ma’am.”

     Stella paced around the living room, sipping from the cup. She paused momentarily and stared at the large portrait of her, Anthony, and Tom on the wall. Her face scrunched from looking at his eyes. In the picture, he was perfect. But in reality, he was such a brute. That portrait should be taken off and replaced with another one of her and Tom only. She’d moved on with her life. No pictures of Anthony should be left lurking around the house. It only triggered bad memories.

     She turned and looked in the long hallway. Tom strutted across the carpeted floor clad in a bottom-down, black blazer, and matching jeans.

     A big smile plastered on her face, she walked briskly toward him, handing the coffee to the housemaid. Arms stretched, she pulled him into a hug and ruffled his hair. “I’m glad you could make it. I’ve missed you.”

     Tom brushed her back. “I’ve missed you too, Mom.”

     She withdrew her arms but still clutched his shoulders. “You look sad. It’s about Elodie, no doubts.”

     “Were you able to talk to her?” Tom asked imploringly.

     Her lips curled into a wistful smile as she tucked her slender arm into his and started toward the study. “I was. Elodie... she doesn’t want to come back.”

     His face went pale as they walked arm in arm to the study, passing by a large dining room.

     Stella opened the sliding door and they stepped into another big room with huge bookcases towering into the ceiling. She skittered to the oversized windows, pulled back the curtains, and let the rays of the sunlight in. Then she turned around and looked at Tom who was sinking into the swivel chair across the escritoire.

     “She wants to divorce me, Mom. Elodie wants to leave me.” His voice sounded teary.

     Stella flicked back her long dark hair and sat across from him. “I figured. She’s made up her mind, and I’m not sure she’s going to change it.”

     Raising her brows, she added, “She was so rude to me, you know.”

     “I can’t let her go. I love her.”

     “I’m sorry to break this to you, but you have to. Elodie doesn’t deserve you.”

     “Don’t say that,” he snapped and ran a hand through his hair.

     Slowly, she rose and moved toward him, then sat on the tabletop. “Look at me.”

     He flipped his eyes to his Mom. For minutes, they just stared at each other in sullen silence.

     “Why didn’t you tell me about it?” Stella asked, breaking the silence.

     He sank in the chair. Glancing away, he said, “I thought I could handle it.”

     “When did it start? I mean... the compulsion.”

     “Years ago.” His eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I love her with all my heart. I don’t want her to leave me, Mom. Please do something.”

     “I will. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I should’ve helped you sooner.” Her eyes moistened. “You shouldn’t have witnessed it. I failed to protect you from him, and now you’re becoming like him.”

     He looked at her face. “It’s not your fault. Father deserved what he got.” Then he added between gritted teeth, “I’m not sorry I killed him.”

     Stella blinked hard. Tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. “Don’t say that, Son. I don’t blame you. You were only trying to protect me.”

     The memory came flashing in her mind like it happened yesterday. She and Anthony had been arguing as usual in the bedroom. Their driver had gone to fetch Tom from school. Their argument had escalated suddenly. He became violent and started hitting her. That day if Tom hadn’t come to her rescue, Anthony would have pushed her over the staircase.

     Tom had been only seventeen, but he acted like a hero. Her hero. He had protected her from his Dad. She knew Tom hadn’t meant to kill his father. It was an accident. When the cops arrived, she’d told them Anthony tripped and fell over the staircase. It was easy. Anthony was drunk the previous day. There were friends who testified to that and autopsy reports showed he had a lot of alcohol in his system. His family knew about his drinking habit and his violent nature whenever he got drunk. To them, Stella had been a brave woman to stay with him.

     Snapping out of it, she dabbed at her face with a tissue. “I’ve booked your first appointment with Dr. Willet. She’ll be expecting us tomorrow at six. Don’t be late.”

     “I’m not going.”

     “I don’t remember asking your permission, Tom,” she said, her voice stern. “I made a mistake not letting you see a therapist so many years ago, and I’m not going to repeat that. Do you know why Elodie left you?”

     “Because I hit her.”

     “No, Tom. She’s afraid of you. Afraid of the person you’re becoming. If you don’t fix yourself, you can’t be with anybody.”

     “I just want Elodie back in my life. I can’t live without her.”

     “You can,” she said and lifted herself from the table, crouching over him. “You’ll always have me. I’m your mother, and unlike Elodie, I can never leave you.”

     She watched as tears streamed down her son’s face.

     “I can’t believe I’ve lost her.”

     She fondled his cheek. “I’m sorry.”