I sat there, completely frozen. My "mother"—this cold, powerful woman who saw me only as a financial problem—was weeping, her body shaking over a faint scar on my arm. My old life, Marcus Sterling's life, was perfectly polished. We had problems, sure, but they were about college applications, not shattered marriages and stitches. I had absolutely zero script for this.
She finally pulled her hands away from her face, her eyes red and streaming. She looked at me, and the hatred was gone, replaced by a desperate, raw vulnerability.
"You're always like that, Kaelen," she choked out, her voice unsteady. "Even since you were a little kid, you never listened to anyone. Not a single person. Not even your father."
I started to open my mouth, ready to lie or deflect, but she cut me off, her gaze dropping to the table.
"Mom, I—"
"Although I can't blame you for that," she whispered, the new statement hitting me with the force of a confession. "After all, your father… he would be busy with work, come home late at night, always drunk. Always causing trouble."
My mind stalled. Drunk? Causing trouble? Marcus Sterling had lived in a world where rich people hired therapists, not caused scenes. The idea of a wealthy, successful parent coming home, stumbling drunk and abusive, was an alien concept. It was the messy, brutal truth of the life I was currently occupying.
I didn't know that such individuals also existed in our society. For someone like me, who never stepped outside till I had my favorite car, I started to realise how I was from the harsh side of our society
She looked up at me again, her expression soft with a painful guilt. "I know it must have been tough for you to listen to all those things back then, but I always wanted to protect you. I always wanted to make sure you wouldn't go the same route as your dad."
The full picture slammed into me: Kaelen Vance wasn't a spoiled brat who chose to be cruel; he was a kid who grew up in a warzone, internalizing the chaos and rage he saw every night. His arrogance was a shield; his defiance was a broken defense mechanism. His life was the polar opposite of the gilded security I'd grown up with.
His mother, with pain in her eyes, still says, "There was a time when even I also went to that route as well, and I wouldn't deny it, Kaelen. I started paying less attention to you because I was also frustrated with everyday quarrels, but I never wanted you to turn up like him... never my son."
After hearing all these stories, I couldn't get myself back for some reason. I, who had lived such a grandeur life , never had anything denied of me. I was finally starting to understand what it was that I was denied. It was a very simple yet something I had never heard of... not even from my mother, the words called " my son"
Suddenly, the cold resolve I had maintained since the first swap cracked. The pain in her eyes, the sheer, crushing weight of Kaelen's inherited trauma—it overwhelmed my own carefully constructed ego. I wasn't hugging her because she was my mom; I was hugging her because for the first time in this nightmare, I understood the why of the body I was in.
I pushed myself up from the table, walked around, and wrapped my arms around her trembling shoulders. Kaelen's long, thin arms felt awkward, but the motion felt right.
"Mom," I murmured, leaning my head down. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry for everything up until now." The apology wasn't just for Kaelen; it was an apology for the arrogance of Marcus Sterling, who had judged this kind of chaos without ever understanding its depth. "I am promising you. From now on, I won't get into fights. No matter what happens."
She hugged me back fiercely, tightly, her grip desperate. She buried her face into my shoulder, and I could feel the heat of her tears soaking through my shirt. The shock of her happiness—the desperate relief of a mother finally seeing a moment of peace—was palpable.
I knew. I knew this wasn't my house, this wasn't my family, and this wasn't even my real body—I had only been Kaelen Vance since yesterday. I didn't know the real Kaelen properly, much less this tragic woman. But listening to her here, feeling the genuine, broken love beneath the rigid exterior, I couldn't hold back. My own tears, tears that Marcus Sterling hadn't shed since he was a child, started to flow. It was as if I was holding something deep and painful for myself, for Eli, and now, for Kaelen.
I was fighting for my future, but for this moment, I was simply fighting for Kaelen's peace. I had twelve days to fix the bully, and this was where the real work began. The scar was the key, and the promise was the first step.