My Love Until the Last Goodbye (Mary and Maximus) novel Chapter 917

"Granny Aria, can you fix Tia for me? I was playing with her, but I broke her," a little girl said between sobs.

"Let’s see… what happened to Tia?" the older woman asked as she inspected the rag doll’s arm.

"She got stuck in a bush, and when I pulled her out, her hand fell off."

"Hmm… I’ll see what I can do. This will require a very precise operation," the woman said as she walked toward her pincushion.

Hearing this, the girl covered her face with a look of pure horror.

"Don’t worry, we’ll put something on her so it won’t hurt. You’ll see, she won’t feel a thing," the woman reassured her, seeing her frightened expression.

Aria Fairchild had arrived in that town ten years ago, after spending a year battling a deep depression following the tragic death of her only son. The boy’s father had helped her for a while, but in the end, she couldn't bear it any longer. She left everything behind and ran away to a small, picturesque village in Valeria.

The town, perched on a hill and constantly affected by erosion, had a tiny population. Its only connection to the outside world was a pedestrian bridge. If Leonardo Palmer ever searched for her, he would never find her. This place held no significance to anyone.

Aria had come here to let herself wither away—to wait for death to finally claim her. Yet, to her surprise, ten years had passed, and death still refused to take her.

The town had its own charm: cobbled streets, ancient buildings, quaint stone houses, and picturesque plazas, all frozen in time.

The Church of St. Reginald was one of its main attractions, and Aria had visited it more than anyone else. She prayed for her son’s soul and begged for her own forgiveness. For forty-eight years, she had carried the burden of guilt. If only she had been stronger, less naive… if only she had fought harder, her son would never have been ripped from her arms.

She had never blamed her child’s father. It hurt that he had lied to her. It hurt even more that he left and never came back. But how could she hold it against him? He had his own family. She had only been a passing moment in his life. The truth was, she had fallen for him the moment she saw him. He was older, yes, but she didn’t care. The time they spent together in his home had been enough for her to weave a fantasy.

A fantasy that made her forget her father’s abuse. That made her forget how her mother suffered. That made her forget she was already engaged to someone she despised.

That fantasy allowed her to escape the reality of her arranged marriage to a man nearly as old as her father. A man who was wealthy, yes, but as rich as he was, he was equally repulsive.

Aria had been only seventeen—young and beautiful, the perfect bargaining chip to elevate the Fairchild family in Florentian society. Roman Fairchild had only one child. His wife had tried for more, but fate had denied them, leaving Aria with the burden of securing the family's future.

It wasn’t that the Fairchilds were poor, but they weren’t at the top either. Leonardo Palmer could have been an ideal husband for Aria, but, according to her father, a common woman had seduced him first. Martina had stolen the chance for Aria to marry into the Palmer family.

At seventeen, Aria had no say.

Her father tore her child from her arms without a second thought—just another deal to profit from.

Leonardo knew the boy was his. He paid a hefty sum for him. Enough for Roman and his family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

Aria never saw a single coin of that money.

Her mother had died soon after she was sent to the convent. There had been no one left to fight for her.

Eventually, she accepted her fate. She stayed in the monastery. She accepted her life. Because if she didn’t, the one who would suffer the consequences would be her son.

She knew Leonardo Palmer had him. And that gave her peace. She knew she could never go near him, but she trusted that the man she had loved would take good care of their child.