Chapter 321: Because I’m Your Mother

Sitting quietly by the window, Matteo watched the passing scenery while the driver focused intently on the road.

About halfway through the journey, Matteo reached into his pocket, took out his phone, and sent a brief message to Mark.

I’m on my way.

Only a few seconds passed before his phone vibrated.

Alright, Teo.

Matteo slipped the phone back into his pocket and leaned against the seat, his thoughts growing heavier with every passing mile. It had been nearly two decades since he had last seen his mother. So much had changed over the years, yet the memories of that painful separation still lingered deep inside him. He wasn’t sure what awaited him at the end of this journey, but he knew there was no turning back now.

Almost an hour later, the convoy slowed as it approached the gates of his mother’s estate. The iron gates opened, allowing the vehicles to drive inside before finally coming to a smooth stop in front of the elegant mansion.

Matteo took a slow breath before pulling out his phone once more.

I’m here. Tell Mom to answer the door.

Mark’s reply came almost immediately.

Alright.

After putting his phone away, Matteo stepped out of the car. He picked up the carefully chosen gifts Mark had instructed him to bring and made his way toward the front door alone, leaving the bodyguards to wait outside.

He had barely lifted his hand to knock when the front door suddenly swung open.

Matteo had expected one of the maids to answer the door, but instead, standing right in front of him was his mother.

She didn’t even take a moment to properly look at the person standing before her. Having been told that Mark was coming to visit, she naturally assumed it was him. The instant she saw a familiar figure at the doorway, her entire face lit up with excitement.

"Mark!" she exclaimed happily before hurrying toward him without a second thought. Wrapping both arms around him, she pulled him into a warm embrace, holding him as though she had been waiting all morning for his arrival.

Matteo remained completely still.

He didn’t return the hug.

Instead, he quietly watched her, taking in the genuine happiness shining across her face and the eagerness with which she had rushed to open the door herself.

She must really love Mark, Matteo thought quietly, unable to ignore the warmth in her embrace. For a brief moment, he couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if she had ever held him that way.

Swallowing his emotions, Matteo reminded himself why he had come. Pushing every personal feeling aside, he gently played along.

"Yes, Mom," he answered softly.

Hearing his voice, his mother slowly loosened her embrace and took a small step back. She looked up at him for a long moment, studying his face with a gentle smile, while Matteo held her gaze in silence, careful not to reveal anything that might expose who he truly was.

After a brief pause, she smiled warmly and stepped aside. "Come inside."

Matteo nodded politely before walking into the house. One of the maids immediately approached, respectfully taking the gifts from his hands before carrying them farther inside, while his mother closed the door behind them and happily led the way into the living room.

"Come, have a seat," she said gently.

Matteo nodded and sat down on one of the sofas. His mother settled into the seat opposite him, her face still carrying the same warmth she had greeted him with at the door.

"So," she began with a smile, "you came alone? What about Charles?"

Matteo remained calm, answering exactly as Mark would.

"He’s doing well, Mom. He had a few things to take care of today, so I came by myself."

"I see." She nodded understandingly before smiling again. "Thank you for the gifts."

Matteo shook his head lightly. "You don’t have to thank me, Mom. It’s only right."

His mother smiled, clearly touched by the response. "How is Maxwell? I hope he’s behaving himself."

A faint smile crossed Matteo’s lips. "Yes, Mom. He’s doing well."

The conversation continued naturally. She asked about Charles, Maxwell, Marco, Marissa, their work, and everyone else in the family, wanting to know how they were doing and whether everything was going well. Matteo answered each question carefully, making sure every response sounded exactly like something Mark would say.

After a brief pause, she smiled at him again. "And what about you, Mark? How have you been?"

"I’m doing well," Matteo replied with a small smile.

"I’m glad." Her eyes softened with affection. "I can see you’re doing well. Your boyfriend is taking good care of you."

Matteo couldn’t help smiling. "He is. And I take care of him too. We take care of each other."

His mother’s smile grew even warmer before it slowly faded. Leaning back against the sofa, she lowered her eyes for a moment as though gathering the courage to ask something that had been weighing on her heart.

After a long silence, she finally looked back at him. "Mark..." she said quietly. "Do you hear from your twin brother? How is he doing?"

Matteo’s heart skipped a beat.

He slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, remaining silent for a brief moment before answering. "He’s... doing fine."

His mother’s expression changed almost instantly. The smile on her face disappeared, replaced by a sadness she couldn’t hide.

"I heard about what happened recently," she said quietly, her voice filled with disappointment rather than anger. "Ever since I heard the news, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him."

She paused before asking the question that had clearly been living in her heart. "Do you think he’ll ever change? Are you two even talking to each other these days?"

Matteo lowered his gaze for a moment before answering carefully, still pretending to be Mark. "I’m trying, Mom."

His mother slowly shook her head, looking heartbroken. "I just wish he’d leave that life behind," she whispered. "I wish he’d stop hurting people and finally choose a different path."

Her voice was filled with pain, and every word pierced Matteo’s heart.

Matteo lowered his eyes for a moment before letting out a soft, bitter chuckle. When he looked up at her again, there was curiosity in his gaze.

"Mom..." he said quietly. "Do you really think he just goes around hurting innocent people?"

His mother looked at him for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head. "It doesn’t matter whether they’re innocent or not, Mark," she replied gently. "Nothing can justify your brother hurting anyone... let alone taking someone’s life."

Matteo fell silent.

He lowered his gaze again, quietly absorbing every word she had just spoken. The room grew unusually quiet, neither of them saying anything for several long moments.

Finally, Matteo looked back at her. "You must have been very disappointed in him..." he said softly. "Have you ever regretted having him as your son?"

The question caught her completely off guard.

She stared at him for a long moment before slowly shaking her head. "No."

Her answer came without hesitation.

"He has broken my heart more times than I can count," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "Every time I hear another piece of bad news about him, it hurts me more than anyone could ever imagine."

She placed a hand over her chest and smiled sadly through the pain. "But he’s my son."

Tears slowly gathered in her eyes.

"And no matter what he has done... no matter how angry I am or how disappointed I feel... I have never, not even for a single second, regretted giving birth to him."

She swallowed hard before continuing.

"A mother’s love doesn’t disappear because her child makes mistakes. He will always be my son, and nothing in this world will ever change that."

Those words hit Matteo harder than anything else.

He quickly looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to fill his own eyes.

His throat tightened until it became difficult to speak.

Still pretending to be Mark, he forced himself to ask in a trembling voice,

"If... if Matteo were standing in front of you right now... what would you say to him?"

His mother lowered her head for a brief moment before looking back up, her eyes now filled with tears. "I would tell him..." she whispered, her voice breaking, "...that I’m sorry."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "And I’d tell him that no matter what he’s done... he never has to apologize for being my son. I don’t need a perfect son... I just want my son back."

Matteo’s vision blurred.

He quickly turned his face away, pretending to compose himself, but in reality, he was using every ounce of strength he had to stop himself from breaking down in front of the one person he had longed to hear those words from.

Just then, one of the maids walked into the living room carrying a tray with a glass of water and a glass of orange juice. She carefully placed them on the table in front of Matteo.

Before the maid could step away, his mother spoke.

"Take the orange juice away."

The maid looked at her in confusion.

"But, ma’am... the last time Mr. Mark visited, orange juice was his favorite."

His mother gently shook her head. "Take it away," she repeated softly. "He doesn’t like sweet drinks."

The maid nodded respectfully before picking up the glass and quietly leaving the room.

Matteo hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation. His heart was too heavy to notice what had just happened.

Unable to bear the weight in his chest any longer, he slowly rose to his feet.

Without looking back at her, he spoke in a low, trembling voice.

"If you truly still see him as your son... then you wouldn’t have abandoned him."

With those words, Matteo turned and started walking toward the door.

Behind him, his mother slowly rose to her feet.

She looked at his back for a long moment before speaking, her voice calm but filled with emotion.

"I never abandoned you, Matteo."

The moment his name left her lips, Matteo froze.

His eyes widened in disbelief as his body instantly went still. The foot he had been about to take never touched the floor, and the silence that followed seemed to swallow the entire room.

He couldn’t bring himself to move.

He couldn’t even breathe.

For a long moment, he simply stood there with his back facing her, too shocked to turn around.

His fingers slowly curled into tight fists at his sides while his breathing became uneven.

His mother looked at his motionless back, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Even if I didn’t see you for a hundred years," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion, "I would still recognize you the moment you stood before me."

She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Because I’m your mother."