Chapter 258 A Son’s Rebuke

“You…” Martha’s voice caught in her throat, her face draining from red to white.

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Scarlett had dared to say she had nothing to do with the Joyner family? After all her efforts–pulling her from the mud, teaching her manners, giving her food and clothes—how could she be so ungrateful?

While she seethed, a cool voice drifted from inside the gate. “Who’s there?”

Martha looked up. A tall figure in a gray servant’s uniform walked toward them. Even in in clothes, his bearing carried a quiet nobility.

It was Oliver.

He stopped at the gate, his eyes flickering briefly with surprise at the sight of Martha before settling back into indifference. He told the butler, “I’ll handle this.”

The butler nodded and stepped aside, though his watchful gaze stayed fixed on Martha.

Oliver opened the gate partway. His brow creased slightly as his eyes took in her disheveled state. “Mom? Why are you here?” His tone was even, betraying little emotion.

“Oliver…” The moment she saw her son, Martha’s pent–up grievances found release. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Thank heavens you’re here! You have to see what your precious sister did–she… she hit me!”

She clutched at his arm like a drowning woman to a rope. “And your father–he sided with Reba, locked me out of the house! Tell me, does that make sense? I’m his wife, Reba’s own mother!”

Oliver stiffened under her grasp. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t hold her back either. His gaze on her tear–streaked face wasplicated.

“She hit you?” he repeated, a trace of disbelief in his voice. “Reba’s out of lockup?”

“Yes! I don’t know how, but she’s back–and now the whole house is in chaos!”

Martha’s voice rose, shrill with outrage. “She not only hit me, she said she wants to sever ties as mother and daughter! And your father–he came home only to shield her, ignoring mepletely! Oliver, you have to judge this fairly. What daughter hits her own mother?”

“Reba’s out?”

Oliver barely seemed to hear her usations. A flicker of light passed through his eyes, genuine relief. “That’s good… I’m d she’s safe.”

Martha stared at him, stunned. His rare smile of ease stoked her fury like fuel to a fire.

“What are you so happy about? Did you not hear me? She hit me! How can you be just like your father- always taking her side?”

Oliver’s eyes returned to her, the brief warmth gone, reced by a weary coolness. “Mom… was this really just about her hitting you?”

“What else?” Martha snapped. /Raising a hand to me is unforgivable!”

“Is that so?” Oliver drew his arm back, putting space between them. His voice was calm, too calm, the kind of

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Sept.

Chapter 258 A Son’s Rebuke

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calm that made Martha uneasy. “In your world, is it always just about ‘right‘ and ‘wrong‘? Never about why?”

“What do you mean?” she demanded, her voice tightening.

Oliver let out a shortugh, edged with bitterness.

“Have you forgotten why Scarlett left the Joyner family? You tormented her daily, ordered her around like a servant, told her it was better to raise a dog than her.”

“In the end, she couldn’t take it anymore. She left. She cut ties. And now–are you trying to do the same with Reba?”

The words sliced deep.

Martha’s face twisted.

Back then, hadn’t everyone in the Joyner family gone along with how Scarlett was treated?

If anything, hadn’t she been the one who hurt her least?

Why was Oliver ming her now?

“I was teaching her!” Martha’s voice shot up. “She was just a foster child. If I didn’t teach her manners, how I would she ever learn respect?”

She believed it.

At first, she had even wanted Scarlett to turn out well, not to disgrace the family.

Hadn’t that made her the kindest of them all?

“Manners?”

Oliver’s gaze hardened, cold as ice. “Your idea of manners was to turn people into tools, into trophies for you to show off.”

“When Scarlett left, you called her ungrateful. Now Reba resists you, and you call her a traitor. Have you ever once thought about where the real problem lies?”

Martha’s temper boiled over. She couldn’t hear his words, only felt provoked, attacked.

“What problem? I raised you all with blood and sweat-”

“Raised?” Oliver cut her off, sharper than ever before.

“How did you raise‘ Scarlett? How did you ‘raise‘ Reba? To you, what has ever mattered besides your pride and your need for control?”

He gestured at his uniform. “Look at me. I’m a servant in the Lane family now. Do you find that shameful?”

Martha’s breath hitched, choked silent.

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