Chapter 1407: Chapter 1407: Life is Like a Fog
Two years later, Old Master Summers’s illness worsened again, and he was bedridden.
Clyde Summers returned from abroad and officially took over Summers Corporation.
Compared to before, he had grown taller and tanner, shedding his youthful slender elegance to become a tall, robust man with piercing eyes and an overpowering presence.
Atra Blanc was inexplicably afraid of him.
Especially the way he looked at her, as aggressive as before he left, as if he loved her, yet hated her.
She wasn’t good at handling such complex and sensitive relationships, so she could only try to avoid him and keep away from him.
The changes in his mother fell into young Alexander Summers’s eyes and etched themselves in his heart.
Alexander began to dislike Clyde Summers because every time his mother saw Clyde, she would be anxious and fearful, often appearing dazed and muttering strange words.
…
That day, the sky was clear for miles around.
Atra Blanc held scissors in her hand, cutting a few tulips in the garden to decorate Old Master Summers’s bedroom.
Old Master Summers was now so weak that even sitting in a wheelchair was strenuous; he had to lie in bed. Having flowers and plants in the room made him feel a bit more comfortable.
She gathered a bouquet, ready to return, but when she turned around, she found Clyde Summers standing in front of her, staring at her expressionlessly.
Atra Blanc was suddenly flustered, the vibrant tulips scattered all over the ground, and the scissors almost fell, caught mid-air by Clyde Summers, who firmly held them.
He extended his hand, offering the scissors back to her.
Atra Blanc hesitated for a moment before taking hold of the other end of the scissors.
She pulled slightly, but the scissors didn’t budge. Atra Blanc pursed her lips and looked up at Clyde Summers.
Clyde Summers remained silent.
The two stood facing each other like this, at an impasse in the flowerbed.
Suddenly, a black object flew over, hitting Clyde Summers on the back with a splat, sending mud splattering everywhere.
Atra Blanc’s eyes widened in shock.
Clyde Summers raised an eyebrow slightly, turning his head to look—
Alexander Summers stood at a distance, his childish face full of resentfulness: “Stay away from my mom!”
Clyde Summers chuckled, a cold and mocking smile, as he lowered his eyes, gently brushed off the mud from his shoulder, and turned to leave.
Alexander Summers, like an aggressive little leopard cub, kept a vigilant watch on Clyde Summers’s back. Only when he was far away did Alexander run to Atra Blanc, asking, “Mom, was he trying to bully you just now?”
“No…” Atra Blanc held the scissors, feeling her fingers stiffen.
She moved her finger joints slightly, then slowly crouched down, picking up the tulips from the ground, and softly said, “He didn’t bully Mom, he was just talking to Mom. Alexander, you mustn’t throw mud at people again. It’s very impolite, you know?”
The young boy’s eyes held a ferocity beyond his years, “It’s just mud, not stones.”
“It doesn’t matter what it is; throwing anything at people is wrong.” Atra Blanc was exasperated yet helpless with her son’s temperament. “I really don’t know whom you take after in this regard.”
Alexander Summers was unimpressed and asked, “Mom, what did he say to you just now?”
Atra Blanc was taken aback by the question.
After a moment, she slowly stood up, taking her son’s small hand, and walked back step by step, “He didn’t say much. Let’s go back…”
He said—
“Do you use these hands to take care of him? It must be tiring, right?”
Tiring…
Yes, very tiring.
These hands, turning him over and washing him every day, massaging his limbs, cooking meals for him… Waking up countless times in the middle of the night, rushing to Old Master Summers’s bedside, carefully checking his breathing.
Feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath, only then would her tense nerves relax.
Afraid he might choke on his phlegm in his sleep and die silently… What would she do if that happened?
Her life felt like a fog, and Old Master Summers was a lamp in that fog, telling her she was his caregiver, so she only needed to focus on taking care of him.
But the lamp was about to go out, and then who would guide her?