“I don’t think there is a parent out there that doesn’t love their child,” the nurse said to Victor with a smile. “Sir, I think you should go in now.” She turned around and carefully pulled the door closed before she left. “I don’t think there is a parent out there that doesn’t love their child.”
The nurse’s words rang through Victor’s head like a taunt. His eyes darkened, taking on a faraway expression as memories of his childhood resurfaced. He keenly remembered the day his grandmother had come to fetch him from the dilapidated ruins that had been his home and taken him to the Sullivan family’s mansion. It was the same day the car accident had happened. He’d been so young then, standing barefoot in the corridor of the hospital, outside the operating room. He stood there for half an hour, silent and waiting, until the doctor finally walked out. With a grim expression the doctor said softly, “I am sorry… We tried our best. Please tell your elders to prepare for your mother’s funeral. Again… I’m sorry for your loss.” That was all the doctor said before he left. Victor didn’t even know how he made his way out of the hospital. He remembered nothing of his journey home, nor the sights and smells around him. It was like his little world had gone dark. Nothing but the doctor’s words rang inside his head. He hardly remembered stepping into the home where he and his mother had lived together. Through his numb grief, he somehow found her diary, and in it, a phone number. He remembered that his mother had once told him to phone this number if anything ever happened to her. She’d told him to tell the person her name. He didn’t know who the number belonged to. All he knew was that he had to call someone to handle his mother’s funeral. She couldn’t stay in the morgue. He’d been in there once and it had been so very cold… He knew how much his mother hated the cold. He knew she wouldn’t want to stay in there.
Like a good, obedient little boy, Victor dialed the number and waited until the call was picked up. The voice on the other end belonged to an elderly woman. “Hello, who’s speaking?” The voice was soft and gentle, soothing in a way he had never expected. He hadn’t cried when his mother had passed out from blood loss. He hadn’t cried when the doctor came to tell him his mother was gone. But now, hearing that gentle, kind voice, tears finally sprung to his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He cried so hard that the tears dripped off his jaw and onto the diary, blurring the phone number that had been written there before. “Hello? Is there someone there?” the woman said.
Victor sniffed in a deep breath to try and calm himself. He gripped the phone tightly, trying to keep the quiver out his voice as he said his mother’s name and then everything else. The woman on the other end of the line went silent. She was silent for such a long time that he thought she may have already hung up. The only thing that told Victor she was still on the call was the slight crackle on the line. “Where… Where are you right now?” the woman said in a voice that sounded ever so slightly excited, but Victor could tell she was crying. Victor’s little hand curled on the end of the diary. His fingers shook, and his skin was pale. He held onto the paper so tightly that his knuckles went white, making it look as though it had taken all his strength to speak. “My mother,” he choked on his words as he glanced down at photo in the diary. It was of him and his mother. They were standing in front of a fountain together. She had her hand on his shoulder and was smiling gently at the camera. “My mother is dead…”
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the other end of the phone. The woman was silent for a while before she said in a trembling voice, “Child, where are you?” He gave the woman his address through barely suppressed sobs. “Good boy,” she said, “just stay there. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there right now.” “Okay… I’ll wait…” Victor lowered the receiver and put it down without disconnecting the call. He didn’t have to wait long until there was a knock at the door. He waited until a woman entered, and he knew immediately that this was the owner of the voice. She was dressed in a cheongsam, and her hair was slightly wild, as if she’d left home in a hurry. She looked down at Victor and almost instantly, tears glittered in her eyes. She came forward and put her hands on his slim, small shoulders. Then the tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. “You must be my grandson,” she murmured. “You look so much like your father…” Victor clutched his mother’s diary tightly in his hands and allowed the woman to lead him downstairs.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “My name is… My name is Victor Sullivan.” The woman had only just managed to stop her tears, but at the mention of his name, she started crying again. “Sullivan? I thought she hated him so much that she’d never…” Victor stopped walking and looked up at her, blinking in confusion. The woman looked down at his puzzled expression and smiled softly. She reached out and gently touched his head saying, “There are things I’ll tell you when you’re older. Now is not the time.” Victor looked at the ground and said nothing. His little face remained cold and expressionless. For a child of seven years old, he was remarkably quiet and calm after just losing his mother, which was strange “Victor,” the woman said softly and bent down so she was eye-level with him. “I’m your grandmother. You’re going to be staying with me from now on, alright?” Victor just stared at her silently. The only thing he did was purse his lips, but that was as much reaction as he gave her. “It’s alright. Everything is going to be fine,” the woman said when he gave no reaction. “You just take your time. I’m not going to force you to talk. I’ll wait until you’re comfortable.” She gave him a small pat on the shoulder, then led him outside. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan!” The greeting came in unison from a dozen men dressed in black. They were waiting outside the door, smiling pleasantly. Just past them, Victor could see six black Bentleys parked in a tidy row along the side of the road. Carolyn, Victor’s grandmother, looked down at him worriedly when the men greeted him so loud. She was worried he’d be frightened, or feel intimidated by their presence, but she was surprised to find that he was calm. In fact, he hadn’t so much as changed his expression. Any other seven-year-old boy would have been scared out their mind when seeing something like this for the first time. But if anything, Victor seemed to be anticipating this. Carolyn led him to the first car in the row and helped him in. She climbed in next to him and, at a signal from her, the convoy slowly moved off in the direction of the Sullivan family’s house. After a one and a half hours’ drive, they finally arrived. Even though it was still relatively early in the morning, there was someone waiting for them at the gate. The car pulled to a stop outside the house and Carolyn quickly got out before going to help Victor. She led him to the door where a servant changed his shoes, and then she took him into the living room. “Mother, why did you want me to return at such short notice?” said a deep male voice from one of the sofas. Victor turned his head in the direction of the voice. Sitting on one of the sofas was a man. He was leaning back against the back rest, and had the ankle of one leg crossed over onto the opposite knee. Beside him sat a gorgeous, well-dressed woman. As soon as he laid eyes on him, Victor had the vaguest feeling that this man was supposed to mean something to him.
The two of them bore a striking resemblance to each other. “What’s with this attitude? Does a mother really need a reason to want her son to come home?” Carolyn said in displeasure. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Odin is still in hospital with a fever. We need to be there to take care of him. He’s your grandson. Aren’t you worried about him?” the man said in a gentler tone. Odin. That was the first time Victor heard that name.
Maria, the woman sitting beside the man, was the first one out the two of them to notice Victor. Her eyes narrowed, and a complicated expression came over her face. “Don’t talk such nonsense. Of course I am!” Carolyn looked down at Victor and noticed the tense set of his shoulders. She reached down and tenderly laid a hand on his back. Looking up at the man, she asked, “Do you recognize this boy?” She gently nudged him forward as she spoke so the man could get a good look at him. The man lazily raised his eyes to look at Victor. Then the expression on his face froze. “You…” he said slowly. Carolyn took Victor’s hand and gave his fingers a small squeeze. “Victor, this is your father.” Victor had barely even drawn a breath before the man angrily shot to his feet. “Father?” he shouted. “This is not the time for jokes. Mom, this is a serious situation. You know Odin is my only child.”
Captivation: Want Nothing But You, Chapter 118 Odin Is My Only Child