Love Game With The Cold-hearted CEO

andro

s I remained seated at my dressing table. The door swung open

uldn't help but roll my eyes at her, my disdain evident

g?" Her voice was laced with tentative ho

She sighed, taking the hair dryer from my hand to help dry my hair,

ern felt like an intrusion, and I brushed

suffering from vision problems," I

ying to be a caring mother," she p

ing pointless questions," I countered, my

remained silent, the weight of my

ed, but I responded with a dismissive grunt, m

announced, her hand resting on

ed, and she frowned, her

uldn't hurt, especially to your mother," she chided, and I

nded, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. She smiled, planting

tonous, and devoid of joy. Sometimes, I question the purpose

life is a tangled mess, a labyrinth of pain and fear, with my mother serving as the

from the burdens of my past, where happiness is not just a fleeting illusion but a tangible reality. But for now, I a

maids served my meal with practiced efficiency. I gripped my cutlery, read

was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

nough to brighten my day," she murmured, pou

ered, dropping my cutlery with a clatter. Her frown

Her voice was laced with worry, a f

ail, regardless of its significance. And when the weight of her worries b

l downpour. It's both endearing and exasperating, a constant reminder of her boundless

appearance – a resilience born of years spent weathering lif

I am grateful for it nonetheless. For in her tears, I find sola

rried a note of concern,

g at me like an alien?" My frustration spilled over, my wor

e, Alejandro?" Her voice trembled

ach, you need to wipe that smile off your face and keep it to yourse

ense the lingering disappointment in her gaze. It seemed that no matter how h

eath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. If I had refused breakfast altogether, sh

u're all I have," Mum pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. I remai

sed away, you..." she began

ane, another flood of tears. Is this how wome

interjected, picking up my cutlery with a sense of resignation. She smiled

to stop smiling at me? Mothers ca

scing about – my life is a tapestry woven with threads of despair and regret, each memory

," I mutter, my request met with a flurry of movement. Mum and a maid reach for it simultaneous

es like a flame, fury blazing i

her frustration palpable. The maid trembles u

twisting my features. With a voice as cold

again – not even her shadow," I declare, my words

t that she's punished for her incompetence. How dare she spill water on my precious son! You miserable dunce!"

. I'm already late for work, thanks to Mum and her incompetent staff. They'll hav