That night, when Ethan Sterling picked up Seraphina Thorne from ho, his emotions were sowhat affected.
For this biological father, he felt nothing but resentnt.
In fact, the last ti the father and son t was on his mother’s morial day.
Arthur Sterling’s sudden appearance was sothing Ethan ultimately couldn’t completely disregard.
He hardly spoke the entire way.
The two got out of the car together and walked into the living room.
Seraphina sensed his unease and gently took hold of his hand.
"Did sothing happen?"
Ethan shook his head lightly, thought for a mont, then nodded.
"Today, I saw soone I didn’t want to see."
Seraphina glanced sideways, observing his expression.
"If you want to talk, I can be your listener; if not, I can join you for a drink."
"Let’s skip the drinks." Ethan chuckled, "You have a performance tomorrow, I don’t want you to miss your flight."
"So..." Seraphina blinked, "you chose option A, hang on."
Turning to the bar, she tiptoed up to pull his favorite bottle from the shelf, poured so into a glass, and added ice cubes.
Bringing both the drink and the glass over, she handed it to him.
She sat beside him, raised her hands, and rubbed her ears.
"My ears are clean, you can start!"
The girl’s expression was soft, adorable and heartwarming.
Ethan embraced her, pulling her into his arms, gently stroking her long hair.
"Have you heard of the na Arthur Sterling?"
Seraphina looked up, "You an... your dad?"
"He’s not my dad, or rather, I never acknowledged him as such, and I never will."
Ethan lightly swirled the glass in his hand.
The ice cubes danced in the amber liquor, clinking crisply against the glass wall.
After a while, Ethan lifted his right hand, bringing the glass to his mouth, taking a big gulp.
"I hate him!"
When Mrs. Sterling dated Arthur Sterling, she was already a renowned pianist.
To be with Arthur, she even fell out with her parents.
By the ti she knew the truth, Ethan was already seven months old.
Mrs. Sterling couldn’t bear to destroy a life already ford.
To escape Arthur Sterling, she struggled through life, carrying the child, raising Ethan through piano playing.
In nurturing Ethan, Mrs. Sterling often worked several jobs alone.
Years of laborious work had long overextended her health.
To alleviate his mother’s burden, Ethan started working at age ten.
Mowing lawns, delivering newspapers, selling lemonade, joining basketball gas...
But ultimately, he couldn’t keep his mother with him.
Before she passed away, Mrs. Sterling worried that her underage son would be sent to an orphanage due to lack of a guardian.
Helplessly, she reconnected with Arthur Sterling, entrusting him to take care of their son.
At that ti, the fifteen-year-old Ethan t his father for the first ti.
"Back then..." Ethan shook his head gently, "I preferred to believe, as my mother said, that he was already dead."
To avoid hurting her son, Mrs. Sterling always told him he had a loving father, who died of illness.
The young boy always believed his mother, as did Ethan.
Until the brutal truth was exposed heartlessly.
Only then did Ethan learn he was rely a bastard child, and his father was nothing but an unfaithful liar.
Seraphina didn’t comfort him, knowing well at tis like these words were aningless; she rely refilled his glass halfway.
Sipping his drink, Ethan continued his story.
Everyone assud Ethan was a bastard child raised outside by Arthur Sterling, thriving because of him.
Only Ethan knew he hadn’t spent a single penny of Arthur Sterling’s from birth till now.
Even the airfare when Arthur brought him back to the country was bought with earnings from Ethan’s own work.
It was the condition he set with Arthur Sterling—
He could return ho, and Arthur could be his guardian, but Ethan would never call him dad nor spend his money.
Arthur originally thought this was temporary defiance from a child, expecting him to relent sooner or later.
But Ethan didn’t.
Not only did he not surrender, but with his effort and ability, he climbed step by step to where he stands today.
Now saying these stories might only make them inspirational tales.
Seraphina, however, could picture how tough it was for him to get here.
No wonder...
He said he worked so many jobs?
Seraphina replenished his glass again, "The last half. Any more and you’ll be drunk."
Ethan turned to gaze at her face.
"Do you know, Seraphina, sotis I even hate myself. If... if not for , my mom would have beco an extrely famous musician. She would have had a brilliant life... she absolutely would."
As he spoke, he shook his head, furrowed his brow, filled with frustration and helplessness.
Even now, Ethan could not let go of his mother’s death.
It was the first ti Ethan showed her his most vulnerable side.
Seraphina hugged him tightly, her hands tenderly rubbing the short hair at the back of his head.
"No, that’s not true. I understand your mother, as a woman myself. She must have loved you dearly, and being with you must have been one of her happiest tis of her life."
Ethan buried his face in her chest, continuously shaking his head.
"No, if it weren’t for , she would have had a better life, a better son.
I’m the one responsible for her death... Seraphina... do you know?
So mistakes... no matter how hard you try, you can never make up for them.
My life is a mistake."
After saying this, Ethan fell silent, holding her waist as he fell into a deep sleep.
Seraphina initially wanted to help him upstairs, but found she couldn’t manage it, and simply brought over a blanket to cover him.
Concerned he might be uncomfortable at night, she brought a quilt over and slept next to the sofa.
Fortunately, Ethan was quite well-mannered while drunk.
He neither vomited nor fussed, sleeping soundly until Seraphina was woken by her alarm at dawn, and Ethan still slept sweetly on the sofa.
She didn’t disturb him and got up quietly.
She made porridge, put it in a thermos, and left a note on the table.
Then she grabbed her violin and headed to the rehearsal venue to prepare for the evening performance.
That evening, the performance ended smoothly.
Seraphina and the others took a bow from the stage and headed backstage.
Claire Clayton ca over to her, asking about her overseas performance plans, and the two were having a delightful chat when a staff mber suddenly approached.
"Excuse , which one of you is Miss Seraphina Thorne?"
Seraphina stopped, "That’s , is there sothing wrong?"
"There’s a Mr. Sterling who wants to see you; he’s waiting in the VIP lounge," the staff mber replied.
Generally, fans wanting to et musicians might present flowers or send gifts backstage.
Those with access to the VIP lounge are typically affluent or influential individuals the concert hall doesn’t dare offend.
Claire assud it was Ethan, teasingly nudged Seraphina’s arm.
"Wow, our President Sterling really showers us with PDA every day, aren’t they worried about our digestion?"
"I’ll get you so digestive aids,"
Seraphina quipped in return, taking her violin to the VIP lounge.
Seeing the two bodyguards like black towers outside the door, she hesitated slightly.
This doesn’t feel like Ethan.
If it’s not Ethan, who else could Mr. Sterling be?
Just as she was about to inquire, one of the bodyguards opened the door.
"Miss Seraphina Thorne, Mr. Sterling is waiting for you inside."
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