CHAPTER 009
Author: LADY E
last update2025-08-07 17:09:34

Helen’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip.

“You are lying, Steven! It couldn’t possibly be you. You’re a liar! Jackson wouldn't do such a thing.” She kept repeating.

Steven didn’t flinch. His voice came back low, deliberate, and sharp.

“Your so-called favorite, Jackson, can’t even boil water without supervision. He can’t cook to save his life. I made those meals, Helen, every single one of them. And every day, I left them in a lunchbox with your name on it.”

Helen shook her head furiously, denial clawing at her pride.

“I don’t believe you.”

Steven stepped closer, his eyes steady, almost pitying, “Then don’t believe me. But why not check your kitchen’s surveillance? Why not go back and watch the footage from all those years? You’ll see who was there every morning before I walked twenty kilometers to school.”

The crowd gasped softly, whispers rippling like waves.

Jackson’s shoulders tensed, his hands fiddling nervously with the edge of his suit jacket. Sweat beaded along his temple. The mention of the surveillance footage made his stomach twist into knots. He knew what it would show, him sneaking in late mornings while Steven worked silently in the kitchen.

Helen turned sharply to Jackson, desperate now.

“Jack… please tell me you made those lunches. Tell me Steven’s lying.”

Jackson kept his head down, his lips twitching as his mind scrambled for a safe answer.

The silence dragged too long. Helen’s voice softened, pleading this time.

“Jack, sweetheart, tell me you cooked them. Tell me.”

But Jackson couldn’t look at her. He knew the truth would come out eventually if he lied now. His voice shook as he muttered:

“I… I didn’t prepare… them. I never cooked. I just… saw lunch boxes with your name on them every morning and delivered them.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“So Steven was telling the truth…”

“All this time, they treated him like that?”

“This is beyond cruel.”

Helen staggered back, pressing her hand to her forehead. For a brief, flickering second, guilt cracked through her hardened pride. But she clung to her anger like armor.

“Okay, fine… fine. But what about the cleaning? The laundry? Don’t twist everything like you were some kind of saint in this house!”

Steven’s lips curled into a humorless smile.

“Do you remember the antique vase? The one worth millions that a servant accidentally broke?”

Helen’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Steven’s voice sharpened, cutting through the air like glass breaking.

“Everything! You blamed me. You didn’t even let me speak. You made me clean the entire house for a month as punishment. I scrubbed floors, polished furniture, washed every piece of laundry—including yours and Jackson’s, day and night.” He spat, “I was just a child and you stood there watching… You Helen, telling me I should be ‘grateful for discipline’.”

The guests gasped again, some covering their mouths in shock.

A woman in the front whispered to her husband,

“They punished him for something he didn’t do?”

Another shook his head, muttering, “This is abuse, not family.”

Helen’s jaw clenched, shame threatening to choke her, but her pride screamed louder.

“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change the fact you lived here. You still owe this family for everything…every roof over your head, every meal!”

Steven cut her off, his voice cold as steel.

“Every meal? You mean the ones I skipped because I was busy cooking for you? The roof over my head that was a storage room under the stairs? What exactly do I owe you, Helen? Tell me.” He scoffed, “Because from where I stand, I’ve already paid in full, with years of labor, humiliation, and silence.”

Helen opened her mouth, but no words came. Her eyes darted toward the guests, their faces twisted in judgment, their murmurs growing louder.

Steven scoffed, she acting surprised wasn't working, he uttered;

“Back then I thought since the servant confessed to the crime, I wouldn't have to work anymore. Surprisingly he did, and then resigned but his job was never re-assigned,” He chuckled lightly and then his voice turned icy; “You beat me with a stick simply because you saw a speck of dust? Said I wasn't cleaning properly, from then on I became a full time servant. I was just fifteen Helen, but that didn't matter to you… All of my supposed debt has been overly paid, I am afraid.”

Jackson took a step forward, trying to regain control, his tone faux-gentle.

“Steven, we could have fixed this privately… you didn’t need to humiliate our family in front of everyone.”

Steven laughed—not out of humor, but disbelief.

“Privately? You mean like all those private years when I was treated like dirt while you basked in attention for things I did? No, Jackson. This family thrives in the shadows. I’m dragging the truth into the light where it belongs.”

Sarah, her cheeks streaked with tears, finally found her voice.

“Steven… please… we can start over. You’re my son. We can try again, can’t we?”

Steven’s gaze softened briefly as he looked at her, but his resolve didn’t waver.

“You had years to be a mother, Sarah. Years to see what was happening under your own roof and put a stop to it, but you chose silence. I’m done waiting for love that never came.”

Helen’s eyes blazed. Pride, anger, and the sting of humiliation burned through her.

“If you leave, Steven, don’t ever come back. You hear me? You’re no brother of mine!”

Steven’s voice dropped to a quiet, final edge.

“I know, Helen. You’ve been saying that without words for years.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

For the first time in years, Helen had no retort. Jackson remained frozen, his act of sorrow slipping into a nervous tremble, and Sarah wept quietly at the corner of the room.

Steven stepped back, holding up his severance papers once more.

“This isn’t a tantrum. This is closure. I am done with the Milton name, its wealth, and its poison. Consider this my last act as your son—freeing myself from you.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the exit, every step echoing through the grand hall.

Cameras flashed frantically, guests whispering, some with pity, some with awe, but none with judgment for Steven anymore.

Helen needed more clarity, she regained her composure and said;

“Wait! There is one more thing I need to clarify! You can leave after this if it turns out to be a lie, you will pay.”

If truly the monthly allowances weren't given to him, where else did it go?

All Helen wanted more was to prove Steven a liar and to her, this was the right opportunity to not only prove him as one but to humiliate him publicly.

Steven stopped in his tracks and turned waiting patiently for the question.

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