Hearing his mother’s furious accusations, Lionel felt a familiar sting. It was as if she already had proof that he was the culprit.
It made sense. From the moment he returned, he had sensed his mother’s anger and resentment toward him, even though she was the one who had accidentally lost him.
Her youngest son had suffered and struggled on his own for years, even managing to build a life for himself, yet in his mother's eyes, he seemed to be an inconvenience, a burden even.
Lionel had never understood it. Logically, shouldn't a long-lost son who had endured so much hardship be showered with his mother’s affection upon his return?
But whenever she looked at him, she was so angry, as if he should never have come back at all.
Lionel had never sought the answer to this puzzle, fearing he wouldn't be able to handle the truth if he ever found it.
Hearing Lionel’s challenge, Mrs. Mary Rosenberg couldn't stay seated. “It’s impossible that we would leak what was said in our own meeting!” she said, agitated. “There were only three of us there, and I would never do such a thing.”
“Quennel wouldn’t do it either. That only leaves you.”
“How can you be so certain it was me? What proof do you have? And why is it impossible for Quennel to have done it? Do you really know him that well?”
Lionel countered patiently, his gaze drifting thoughtfully to the silent Quennel.

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