Chapter 9
I glanced at the photos–shots of me and Nicolas chatting in a café that afternoon.
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“You had me followed?”
Jeremy lounged on the sofa, cigarette in hand, his eyes cold as steel.
“If I didn’t, how else would I know how many times you’ve cheated on me?”
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I didn’t bother reacting to the insult as I had grown used to his poison.
“Where’s Gaspy?” My voice was sharp.
“What do you plan to do to him?”
He did not answer. Instead, a mocking glint lit up his eyes.
“Funny thing happened earlier.
“Want to guess what he called me when I picked him up?”
My chest tightened. Jeremy’s lips curled into a cruel laugh,
“That bastard is not worthy to call me ‘dad.”
My face went pale. My hands clenched into fists.
“Jeremy, he’s just a child!”
From the moment I stepped inside, I had heard faint sounds of a child playing from the guest bedroom.
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Chapter 9
Gaspard had to be in there.
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He had always been sharp for his age, but he misunderstood and thought Jeremy was his father…
Only to be met with this humiliation.
Jeremy suddenly grabbed me, pulling me into his arms.
His fingers clamped around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I’ll ask you one last time.
“Whose child is Gaspard?”
There was something in his eyes. It was a flicker of hope, as if he wanted a certain answer.
However, I only gave him a cold, deliberate smile.
“It’s none of your business.
“But one thing’s for sure. He is not yours, Jeremy.”
And that was the truth. Gaspard was not his son.
He was my sister’s child and my nephew.
When I was ten, our parents died in a construction accident, leaving just my sister and me.
She was eight years older, and she raised me almost entirely on her own.
The year I divorced Jeremy, my sister died from a sudden amniotic fluid embolism during childbirth.
In those final moments, pale and drenched in sweat, she squeezed my hand.
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Chapter 9
“Eli, take care of the baby for me.”
I sobbed beside her bed, promising through my tears.
“I promise.”
A
From that day, Gaspard became my only living blood relative–my sister’s final gift to me.
I would let no one harm him.
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Back in the living room, Jeremy and I were still locked in our silent standoff…
“Mom! I’m itchy!”
Gaspard’s cry ripped through the air from the guest bedroom.
I bolted into the room immediately.
Then, I found his little body covered in angry red rashes, mango residue still clinging to his lips.
He had also scratched himself raw from the itching.
Panic surged through me.
“Call 911!” I shouted.
“He’s allergic to mangoes!”
Thankfully, we got him to the hospital in time. He hadn’t eaten much, so it wasn’t too serious.
Still, I stayed by his side until the early morning.
The halls were hushed at night, but one tall, slender figure stood out in
Chapter 9
the corridor.
Jeremy. He had been there the whole time, waiting outside the door.
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