Age Of The Villainous Author:All Hell Leads To Webnovel-Chapter 45: The Mother’s Visit

Wednesday morning felt heavier than usual.

I woke at 6:45 a.m. in my own apartment, not the hotel suite, not the office. The bed was too small. The room smelled faintly of the detergent my mother still used. Familiar. Suffocating.

I dressed carefully. Dark jeans. Black cashmere sweater. No logos. Nothing that screamed money. I wanted her to see me, not the empire.

Kasia texted at 7:12.

Kasia: Office ready. Conference room 3 cleared. Joanna will stay out of sight unless needed. Coffee waiting.

Me: Good. Bring her in at 10:00 sharp. No interruptions.

I made breakfast simple. Eggs. Toast. The way she taught me.

When she walked into the kitchen at 8:30 she froze.

"You’re cooking?"

I shrugged. "Thought we could eat together before we go."

She sat. Watched me plate the food.

We ate in silence at first.

Then she spoke.

"I looked up Thorn Publishing last night. The articles say you bought Inkwell for... a lot of money. They’re calling you a prodigy. A wunderkind."

I set my fork down.

"They’re not wrong."

She looked at me—really looked.

"But who are you, Alex? Under all this?"

I didn’t have an easy answer.

So I gave her the truth I could.

"I’m still the boy who used to hide comics under his mattress. I’m just... not hiding anymore."

She reached across the table. Touched my hand.

"I want to believe that."

"Then come see."

We left at 9:20.

The drive was quiet.

She stared out the window the whole way.

When we arrived at the Thorn Publishing office glass tower, sleek lobby, security who nodded at me she hesitated at the entrance.

I took her hand.

"It’s just an office, Mama."

She squeezed back.

We took the private elevator to floor 30.

Kasia was waiting in the reception area professional skirt suit, hair pinned, smile warm but restrained.

"Mrs. Thorn. It’s wonderful to finally meet you."

My mother studied her.

"You’re Kasia."

"Yes."

"The one who... works with my son."

Kasia’s smile didn’t waver.

"Every day."

We walked to conference room 3.

The table was set with coffee, pastries, bottled water. No papers. No laptops. Just hospitality.

My mother sat.

I sat beside her.

Kasia across.

Silence.

Then my mother spoke.

"Tell me what you do here. Really."

Kasia glanced at me.

I nodded. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"We publish books," Kasia said simply. "Digital first, print second. Alex’s story Chronos Imperium is the flagship. We’re building a bridge between web serial readers and traditional readers. Giving authors more control. Better royalties. Real careers."

My mother looked at me.

"Is that true?"

"Yes."

She exhaled.

"And the money? The lawyers? The... women I smell on you when you come home late?"

Kasia didn’t flinch.

I answered.

"The money is from contracts. Royalties. Investments. The lawyers are to protect what we build. As for the rest..." I paused. "I’m not a child anymore, Mama. I have relationships. Adult ones."

Her face tightened.

"With her?"

She looked at Kasia.

Kasia met her gaze. Calm.

"Among others."

My mother stood.

"I need air."

She walked to the window.

Stared at the city.

I joined her.

"Mama—"

"Don’t," she said. "Don’t explain. Don’t justify. Just... tell me you’re happy."

I looked at the skyline.

The cold fire burned.

"I’m building something no one can take away."

She turned to me.

"That’s not the same thing."

I had no reply.

She looked past me at Kasia.

"You love him?"

Kasia answered without hesitation.

"With everything I am."

My mother closed her eyes.

"Then take care of him. Because I can’t anymore."

She walked out.

Didn’t slam the door.

Just left.

Kasia moved beside me.

"She’ll come around."

I didn’t answer.

The foundation between us had just cracked wider.

And I didn’t know how to repair it.

//\\

To the authors who have stared at a blank cursor until it started to look like a heartbeat, this is for you.

​They told us we weren’t good enough. They sent those cold, automated rejections that read like a death warrant for our dreams.

"Not a fit." "Lacks marketability." Every time you see Alex Thorn crush an editor in this story, remember: this isn’t just fiction. This is the scream of every writer who stayed up until 3:00 AM pouring their soul into a document that the world ignored.

It is for everyone who has struggled with low reads, low reviews, and those stagnant collections that make you want to quit.

​The gatekeepers are human. They are flawed. And in this digital age, they are becoming obsolete.

They sit in comfortable chairs judging worlds they could never imagine, let alone build. They look at spreadsheets while we look at the stars. We don’t write for the approval of a corporate board in a glass office; we write for the person scrolling on their phone at a bus stop, looking for a world better than their own.

We write for the ones who need an escape from a life that feels like a dead end.

​If you have a manuscript sitting in a folder named "Draft 1" that you’re too afraid to post—post it right now.

Stop waiting for permission to exist. If you’ve been rejected ten times, go for the eleventh. Use their "No" as fuel for your fire.

Alex Thorn had to die to get his second chance. You don’t. You just have to keep typing until your fingers bleed and your vision blurs. The industry thinks they hold the keys, but they forgot that we are the ones who build the doors in the first place.

​Let them call us "cringe." Let them call us "amateurs." While they talk, we build. While they judge, we evolve into something they can’t control.

They fear the day we realize that their power is an illusion, a paper shield against a tidal wave of raw, unfiltered creativity. We are the architects of the impossible. We are the voices in the dark that refuse to be silenced by a "standardized" algorithm.

​The system is rigged to favor the safe, the bland, and the predictable. But the reader’s heart craves the wild, the broken, and the real. Every Chapter you finish is a middle finger to the status quo. Every "Publish" button you click is an act of war against the people who want to keep you in a box.

We are not just content creators; we are world-shapers. We are the nightmare that the ivory tower never saw coming.

​Current Motivation Level: 45%

Next Level: +1%

​If this Chapter resonated with you, drop a comment. Tell me about the time a gatekeeper told you "No." Let’s burn the old world down and write a new one together.

​ALL HELL FROM WEBNOVEL STARTS FROM YOU!

— A.T.