Chapter 7 - The Healing Garden
With Victoria behind bars and her father’s political empire crumbling, the mansion fell silent.
But Ethan couldn’t stand to live in the house where his mother had suffered so much. He immediately put the Los Angeles mansion on the market, donating 100% of the sale proceeds to elder abuse charity organizations.
He bought a new estate—a quiet, beautiful ranch in the rolling hills of Santa Barbara. The property featured a massive, historic greenhouse and acres of fertile land where any flower could grow.
It was Margaret’s dream garden.
For the first few weeks, Margaret was hesitant to walk on the lush green grass. She still walked with her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She would startle at loud noises, and she refused to sit at the grand dining table, preferring to eat her meals in her room.
Ethan didn’t rush her. He stepped down as the active CEO of his company, appointing a trusted board of directors to handle the daily operations so he could spend every single day with his mother.
He spent his mornings in the garden, planting white roses—her favorite.
One warm afternoon, Margaret slowly walked out onto the patio. She watched Ethan, who was covered in dirt, struggling to plant a large rose bush.
“You’re doing it wrong, Ethan,” a soft, familiar voice said.
Ethan froze. He turned around to see his mother standing there, a gentle, tired smile on her face. It was the first time she had spoken to him without fear in her voice.
“Am I, Mom?” Ethan smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Yes,” Margaret said, walking slowly toward him. She knelt down on the grass, her old, scarred hands gently patting the soil around the roots. “You have to loosen the roots first, otherwise they’ll choke themselves. You always were too impatient.”
Ethan felt a lump form in his throat. He sat back on his heels, watching his mother work. For the first time in months, her hands weren't shaking.
“I learned from the best,” Ethan whispered.
Margaret stopped, looking at her hands, then at the beautiful, blooming white roses around her. Tears filled her eyes, but they weren't tears of fear anymore. They were tears of relief.
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“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Ethan,” she whispered. “I was so scared she would take everything you worked for.”
Ethan wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “You did protect me, Mom. You gave me everything. Now, it’s my turn to protect you. No one will ever hurt you again.”
