Chapter 5 Bloodline

"Ouch!"

"Mother, be still," Rohan chided. He continued to dab the herbal mix he made on his mother's cheek. Anne looked at her son, he was growing handsome everyday but soon, his father's identity will be clear just from the features of his face.

"My Ronnie, however did you learn to make this medicine?"

"Uh," Rohan paused, "from a book I read." Rohan had learned it when he was older in his previous life, he had thought sometimes, had he the knowledge of medicine he could cure his sister or ease his mother's pain. It's a good thing he devoted some time to studying homemade medicine in his past life.

Rohan had always been observant, and today was no exception. His keen gaze didn't miss the reddening of his mother's scalp or the telltale signs of abuse that marred her face.

As Anne sat on a worn wooden chair, her fingers trembling as she gently felt her aching scalp and the fresh bruise on her cheek, she couldn't escape the intense eyes of her eldest son, Rohan. "Why are you looking at me like that, Mr. Grumpy?"

Rohan felt a twinge of frustration. How could he have been so blind at this age not to notice his mother suffering at the hands of that old bitch, the viscountess?

His anger smoldered beneath the surface, a fire that threatened to consume him.

Across the room, his seven-year-old sister, Eliza, was lost in a world of her own. She had taken refuge among the discarded and tattered books, using them as her canvas for coloring and drawing. The innocence of youth shielded her from the harsh realities that her family faced.

Unlike Eliza, Rohan could no longer shield himself from the truth. He had questions that demanded answers, and the weight of secrets held for far too long bore down on him.

"Mother," he began, his voice steady but filled with determination, "I need to know the truth."

Anne glanced up from tending to her bruise, her eyes meeting her son's gaze. She could see the resolve in his eyes, the determination to uncover the secrets that had haunted them for so long.

"Rohan," she said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and resignation, she could already tell he had an inkling of the truth. Rohan had always been so smart, she had hoped that one day, when the viscount comes back from his military campaign she could beg him to send Rohan to a school where he could have an education. "My darling son, there are some things you deserve to know..."

Anne began to recount the story of her past, how before the duke married Lady Agatha, they had a forbidden love between aristocrat and commoner.

"Thirteen years ago," Anne sighed, as if reminiscing the birth of her son, "I gave birth to you. Here. It was also ten years ago your father married Lady Agatha."

Rohan thought about it, if so, he wasn't a product of an extramarital affair but a secret love story. Still, he couldn't help but grow a seed of hate towards his father who had essentially abandoned his mother.

Eliza continued to color, blissfully unaware of the weight of the revelation that was unfolding.

"Who is El's father?" Rohan asked.

Anne blushed, as if this love story did not have the scars of the previous one. "That's a secret!" She charmingly said.

I-Is that so...?

Rohan was quite shocked to see the expression his mother wore, it was like that of a pure maiden feeling the pangs of first love. "Well, that's for El to know," he sighed.

"You're a smart boy, Ronnie," Anne said. Rohan couldn't help but remember all the times his mother had said those words to him and how he felt immensely proud of himself.

Rohan couldn't help but reach out and gently touch her bruised cheek. "Mother, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Anne's eyes filled with tears as she reached for his hand, their shared pain and love binding them together in that moment. "Rohan, my son, you are the light of my life, the reason I have endured all these years. I pray that you can forgive me for the choices I've made."

In the corner of the room, Eliza continued to color, her innocence untouched by the harsh reality. Rohan's eyes flitted to Eliza who had ripped a page to show them a drawing she made out of coal. It was abstract, hard to read, and it was clear Eliza had no talent in art.

"This is brother Ronnie," she pointed to the shapes on her drawing, "this is mama, and this is me!" Eliza giddily said.

"It's beautiful, El," Rohan said.