Love and Hate, Great Sadness Without Tears

There was a time when Willy would have defended me, at least occasionally. But now, his gaze remained fixed on Sophia, his infatuated expression as if he were admiring the rarest of treasures.

Sophia didn’t even flinch under my stare. Instead, she smiled at me with quiet provocation before turning to my mother-in-law, gently holding her arm.

“Auntie, you mustn’t get upset at your age. If you don’t mind, from now on, let Benny be your grandson.”

Grandmother’s expression instantly brightened, her previous scorn toward me replaced by pure delight as she showered Sophia with praises for her thoughtfulness.

Sophia then pulled the teenage boy beside her forward, her smile never faltering. “It’s been a while, Carol. My apologies—we only just flew in from overseas and didn’t have time to change. But you’re so magnanimous, I’m sure you won’t mind, right?”

She then turned to the boy beside her. “By the way, this is my son, Benny Nelson.”

The boy, a striking resemblance to Willy with about five or six shared features, looked me up and down with open disdain before smirking arrogantly. “Auntie, you’re so ugly.”

Before I could react, he turned to Willy and held out his hand expectantly. “Dad, you promised me a gift when Mom and I returned to Chicago. The day after tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. Last year, you only gave me ninety-nine presents—this year, I want a hundred.”

His words, his deliberate humiliation, burned like acid. But Willy ignored my presence, his attention solely on the boy as he helplessly chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Got it.”

With that, he pulled out a long-life lock—the same one I had painstakingly believed was meant for my Liam—and gently fastened it around Benny’s neck with an expression full of love and pride. But that wasn’t enough. Willy snapped his fingers and outside the funeral home, a dozen sports cars—each painted in vibrant, blinding colors—rolled into view.

“Here,” Willy said, grinning indulgently. “Dad knows you like bright colors. These are all yours.”

Sophia pouted playfully, clinging to Willy’s arm. “Willy, what about me? You can’t just spoil your son.”

Willy chuckled, gently tapping her nose. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten you.”

At his signal, two attendants stepped forward from each car, carrying more than thirty sets of exquisite jewelry. The collection varied in style and material, but they all had one thing in common—they were priceless.

One particular set caught my eye. It was a piece once worn by a royal consort from an ancient dynasty, something so rare and historical that its worth was incalculable.

Sophia gasped in delight, throwing her arms around Willy’s neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. She beamed like a young girl, her excitement unrestrained. “Wow! Aren’t these the pieces from that European royal auction a few days ago? Even the cheapest set would cost hundreds of millions. Willy, you bought them all for me? You still love us so much. But spending so much money—Carol won’t be mad, right?”

I clenched my fists as my son’s funeral transformed into a grotesque showcase of luxury cars and jewelry.

I stood there in my outdated black mourning suit, my face bare of makeup, my swollen eyes betraying nights of grief. Beside me, Sophia sparkled—her designer red dress flawless, her makeup exquisite, her presence dazzling.

The absurdity of it all nearly made me laugh.

Over the years, what had Willy ever given to Liam? Compared to just one of Benny’s sports cars, my son had received next to nothing. How ridiculous.

Willy seemed to remember I was still there. His expression turned slightly awkward as he tried to explain, “Carol, don’t take this the wrong way. Sophia and Benny have been living abroad for so long—this is just the way they are.”

“You heard it too, didn’t you? Mom has already acknowledged Benny as her grandson. It’s natural for him to call me ‘Dad.’ He’s about to celebrate his birthday and I just wanted to show some affection. As for the lock…”

Before he could finish, Sophia suddenly stumbled, swaying dramatically as she collapsed into his arms. “Willy, my head… I feel so dizzy… I think I might have heatstroke.”

Willy immediately turned his back to me, his full attention on her. “How could that happen? I built that summer resort just for you, so you wouldn’t suffer in the heat. You should’ve been resting there, but you insisted on coming to this miserable place. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere to rest.”

And just like that, without so much as a glance at the urn containing his son’s ashes, he scooped Sophia up in his arms and walked away.