Chapter 4 Your Child?
Clara was about to head downstairs in her slippers when, passing Emily's room, she caught a glimpse of something shimmering on the carpet.
Curious, she walked over and bent down to pick it up—a sapphire necklace with an old-fashioned design that clearly wasn't worth much.
But Clara recognized this necklace. It had belonged to Emily's sickly mother Scarlett. Emily used to wear it constantly, treasuring it like some priceless heirloom.
Why would it be here?
Had Emily returned home this morning?
If so, could she have overheard them discussing their plans to send her to Roy tonight?
It shouldn't be that coincidental, right?
Clara twirled the necklace between her fingers, her eyes filled with contempt and hatred. "Such a pretentious bitch. Instead of properly keeping Roy company, she's making a fuss over nothing!"
The doorbell suddenly rang.
Thinking it might be Emily returning, Clara hurried downstairs.
This time, she wouldn't let her escape. Tonight, Emily would definitely accompany Roy.
Let her taste what it was like...
The butler opened the door and soon returned, leading a man in a black suit with a sharp, professional demeanor. The man walked directly to the center of the living room, his piercing gaze sweeping across the surroundings before finally settling on Clara.
"Excuse me, is this Mr. Johnson's residence? I'm Nathan, an assistant from the Windsor Group's executive office. I'd like to ask you about something."
The Windsor Group?
Clara's heart skipped a beat. Who in Emerald City didn't know about the Windsor Group's influence?
Why would they suddenly come here?
Could it be related to last night's events?
She forced a practiced smile onto her face. "Yes, I'm his daughter, Clara. What can I help you with?"
Nathan's gaze lingered on her face and hands for a couple of seconds. Though the blurry figure from last night's security footage wasn't clear enough to identify, the build seemed somewhat similar to the woman standing before him.
And she was holding the sapphire necklace Charles had mentioned.
He spoke casually, "Did anyone from your household visit the private room on the 28th floor of the Azure Palace Hotel last night?"
Six years later, Emerald City.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the VIP waiting lounge, a Boeing 747's engines emitted a low rumble. Charles stood leaning against a pillar, his posture as straight as a pine tree, exuding an aura that made him seem unapproachable, as if even the surrounding air appeared to stagnate due to his presence.
"Charles, how many times have I told you not to walk around with that sour face? No wonder you still don't have children at your age!" William Windsor thumped his cane on the ground, his silver eyebrows raised high, looking like an old lion with its fur standing on end.
Charles mentally rolled his eyes without making a sound.
"Grandfather, they've started boarding."
"Don't change the subject! Six years! Clara's been with you for six years, but she still hasn't gotten pregnant. Is it you who can't perform, or is it her? Charles, we can't be shy about seeking medical help." William suddenly leaned closer, lowering his voice, and poked Charles's calf with the tip of his cane.
Charles's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't respond.
"It's not really you who can't perform, is it?" William suddenly adopted a mischievous expression, glancing around.
Just as he was about to recommend a hospital to Charles, his mouth was stuffed with a cookie. William chewed a couple of times. "Which chef made this? Fire them immediately—it tastes terrible."
"Clara made these sugar-free cookies especially for you."
William was going to force himself to swallow, but upon hearing Clara's name, he immediately spat it out, disregarding appearances.
"I won't eat anything she makes! Clara is too calculating. Last time at the family dinner, she was serving me soup, and her hand slipped, spilling it on my pants. Then she told the servants I knocked it over myself because I'm senile. Does she think my old eyes can't see? Replace her! Find someone decent who can bear children!" He gave Charles's arm a slap.
"Grandfather, my affairs..."
"Your affairs are my affairs!" William suddenly raised his voice, drawing glances from nearby staff.
"Six years ago, when you insisted on bringing Clara home, I told you she wasn't trustworthy, but you argued with me! Look where that's got you now. Not even a single child!"
He sat down on the sofa and suddenly began mumbling like a sulking child. "Tom next door's great-grandson is almost five now. The day before yesterday, he hugged my neck and called me great-grandpa. That child even gave me milk candy to eat. He's much sweeter than your ice-block face."
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose.
His grandfather, once formidable in the business world in his youth, had turned into a complete child in his old age. William really loved kids and kept urging him and Clara to have a baby every time they met.
Charles avoided these conversations whenever possible.
This time, William had been invited by an old friend to recuperate in Lumaria, and as his grandson, Charles had no choice but to personally see William off at the airport.
Charles was helpless and didn't want to talk; William was frustrated with his grandson and had nothing more to say.
The two sat in silence.
Just then, a call came from behind them.
"Mommy! Mommy! Wait for me!"
The clear voice of a child was like a small pebble dropped into a calm lake.
A little boy in blue overalls charged toward them like a small cannonball. When he was about two steps away from William, his feet slipped, and he fell flat onto the carpet. The toy in his hand rolled to Charles's feet.
William sprang up from the sofa with the agility of a young man, scooping the child into his arms, his face full of smiles. "Be careful! Where did you hurt yourself? Let me see!"
William was genuinely concerned about the child; an uninformed observer might have thought he was the boy's own grandfather.
The boy rubbed his knee and looked up at William with tears hanging from his long lashes, his eyes wide open.
This pitiful little face melted William's heart instantly.
William held up the boy's arms, examining him from side to side, then suddenly turned to Charles and shouted, "Charles, come look! This nose! This mouth! It's like they were carved from the same mold as you when you were little!"
Charles's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
The slight upward curve at the corner of this child's eyes, the slight downward turn of his mouth when pressed together, even the shallow line between his brows when he frowned, they were remarkably similar to photos of himself as a child that he had seen in the old mansion's albums.
If he didn't clearly remember that in his thirty-plus years, he had only been intimate with one woman, Clara, and she had never had a child, he would have suspected that this boy was his own biological son.
The child's gaze was too bright, like polished obsidian. Though he appeared timid, his eyes concealed a calmness that didn't match his age.
Charles was almost certain this was a carefully planned deception, possibly a new trick played by competitors.
William became increasingly astonished the more he looked. Finally, he simply placed the child on the sofa, put his hands on his hips, and looked at Charles with suddenly sharp eyes, like an interrogator. "Charles, tell me honestly, is this child yours?"
The air in the waiting lounge instantly froze.
Even the little boy who had been rubbing his knee stopped, blinking his big eyes, looking from the fuming William to the expressionless Charles, his small face full of surprise.
Charles bent down to pick up the toy at his feet. "Grandfather, what are you saying? How could that be possible?"
William clearly didn't believe him and stepped forward, his voice rising. "Why not? This child looks exactly like you did when you were little! If he's not yours, whose is he? Did you, a few years ago, with some woman..."
Charles firmly interrupted him. "No. I don't have any children."
