The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 211

Polly spun around, startled. She hadn’t expected Clifford to come back downstairs so soon. She quickly composed herself and said sternly, “Is that any way to greet your mother? You walk in and just demand to know where ‘she’ is? Who are you talking about? This house is full of people.”

Clifford’s gaze swept over his mother and sister. “Where is Latisha?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

“Latisha, Latisha, that’s all you ever say! Have you forgotten you even have a mother?”

Clifford’s jaw tightened. He had no time for Polly’s games and turned to walk out of the house.

“You stop right there!” Polly’s voice rang out from behind him.

Clifford didn’t even break his stride.

Furious, Polly raised her voice, lacing it with a familiar threat. “Clifford, I said, stop!”

Only the two of them understood the weight behind those words. This time, Clifford paused, his back still to her.

Polly rushed to stand in front of him, forced to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. “Clifford, I already know about the company. Your dad called you back because of this crisis, didn’t he?”

Clifford’s gaze shifted to her face. “And?”

His cold indifference infuriated her. She lowered her voice. “Clifford, I’m your mother. Would I ever do anything to harm you?”

He remained silent.

“Renata told me you helped her sell her shares,” Polly continued. “If I’m not mistaken, those shares are in your possession now, correct?”

Clifford’s eyes narrowed slightly, waiting for her to get to the point.

Polly’s nails dug deep into her palms. She stared at his tall, imposing back, a back that now towered over her. She couldn’t remember when it had happened, when she had started having to look up at him.

In that moment, she finally realized it: he had grown up. He no longer needed to obey her. He was no longer her compliant, dutiful son.

A sharp pain lanced through Polly’s chest. She clutched at her heart, stumbling, and a nearby maid had to rush to support her.

“I was only doing it for his own good,” she choked out, her voice filled with a mixture of grief and bitter resentment. “How could he treat me like this?”

“Ma’am… he’s almost thirty years old,” the maid said softly. “If you keep trying to control every aspect of his life, he’s bound to push back.”

Clifford found Latisha in the courtyard. She was being held down by two maids, forced to kneel, her legs covered in a horrifying canvas of red.