“Mom!” I yelled after Isabelle, but she did not turn her head back. I was rather disappointed. Ever since Christopher's identity was revealed, there had been a gap between her and me. It was like there was an invisible wall between us that neither of us could cross.
“Sigh. Your mother is really stubborn. She never wants to have a proper talk to me about this. Every time I mention it, she gets mad. I don't know what to do either.” Mark sighed lightly.
“You tried your best, Dad.” I looked over to the mansion. After Isabelle headed in, I saw her appear in her room on the second floor. She seemed to be looking down at us. Although it was just a glance, I managed to catch the displeasure on her frowned face.
Isabelle seemed to dislike it when I got close to Mark. Every time we talked, she had an ugly expression. I could not understand why.
There seemed to be more and more secrets revolving around Isabelle, and she was becoming weirder and weirder. The image of the wonderful mother I had in my mind was slowly becoming more foreign to me. After some time, perhaps that memory of her might fade completely and be replaced by the current version of her.
Outside the door, the sound of a car honking could be heard. Christopher was urging me to hurry up. I looked down at the time and realized it was already half-past three. I was supposed to pass the painting to Remington by four o'clock. If I did not leave now, he was definitely going to cut ties with me. I raised my head to look at Mark.