His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

Carlos walked toward the office, presumably to check on the children's daily physical records, and I followed him inside. Once the door closed behind us, the room fell into an awkward silence. Carlos busied himself with the records, flipping through them with his usual

calm efficiency. I watched him from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to say something.

He finally broke the silence, his voice as even and matter-of-fact as ever. "You should be careful when drinking alcohol," he said without looking up from the records. "Too much can affect your ability to take care of Cyrus."

I blinked, caught off guard. His comment immediately brought back memories of the night I had gotten embarrassingly drunk while staying at his house. I cringed inwardly at the thought. I could still remember how mortified I'd been the next morning, and now here he was, reminding me of it again.

"I'll keep that in mind," I mumbled, feeling the heat rise in

my cheeks.

For a moment, we both stood there in silence, the tension palpable. I wanted to change the subject, anything to steer away from my drunken embarrassment. Without thinking, I blurted out, "So, what about your fiancée?"

Carlos froze for just a fraction of a second before he resumed flipping through the files. His expression didn't change, but the atmosphere in the room shifted. "We're at work, Doris," he said, his tone cool and professional. "Let's stick to work-related topics."

I nodded, feeling like I had just walked straight into a wall. Clearly, that was a subject he wasn't willing to discuss.

Once Carlos finished looking through the records, he left without another word, leaving me alone in the office. I sighed and made my way back to the main room, where Vesta was waiting with a raised eyebrow. "What was all that about?" she Chapter 61

asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I gave her an exaggerated imitation of Carlos's stoic demeanor. "You should be careful when drinking alcohol, Doris. Too much will affect your ability to take care of Cyrus," I recited in a mock-serious tone.

Vesta burst out laughing. "Oh, come on! He said that?"

"Yep. Dead serious, too," I replied, grinning

We laughed together, the tension from the awkward encounter melting away.

Later that evening, Vesta and I headed to a bar, just like she had promised. The place was lively, packed with people who were clearly here to unwind. The dim lighting, the rhythmic music, and the scent of alcohol in the air created an atmosphere of carefree indulgence. A group of male models strutted across the stage, their bodies moving with precision to the beat, performing a sensual dance that had the crowd cheering.

Vesta elbowed me playfully. "Look at them! My god, those guys are really hot."

I chuckled, taking a sip of my drink. "You're not wrong."

We both waved to the models on stage, who responded with winks and smiles. It was all in good fun, the kind of lightheartedness we both needed after everything that had happened.

As I scanned the crowd, I froze. There, in the middle of the bar, I thought I saw someone who looked exactly like Nathan. My heart skipped a beat. Was it really him? I squinted, trying to make sure I wasn't imagining things.

Vesta noticed my distraction. "What's wrong?"

"I think I just saw Nathan," I said, my voice low.

Vesta shook her head with a laugh. "You've got to be kidding. You're done with

Nathan and Sienna! You're going to have a happy life now. No more drama."

But just as she finished speaking, my worst fear materialized. Nathan stepped out of the crowd, making his way toward us with that familiar, smooth stride. My mood, which had been light and carefree just moments ago, sank like a stone. Vesta's laughter faltered as she noticed Nathan approaching, her smile fading as quickly as my own. I could feelExclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Cheers in the air-the tension tightening between

never

us as Nathan drew closer, his eyes never leaving mine. The vibrant energy of the

bar seemed to dull, the music becoming a distant hum. My mind raced, wondering bar seemed to dull, the music becoming what he could possibly want now, just when I was starting to move forward.

Nathan greeted Vesta first, ever the gentleman. "Good evening, Vesta," he said politely, though his attention was clearly focused on me.

Then, he turned to me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Doris," he said softly, stepping closer, "I know a secret about Cyrus."

Nathan's eyes bore into me as we stepped away from the bustling bar and into a quieter corner. I could feel the weight of his gaze, studying me, reading every flicker of emotion. My heart pounded in my chest, and though I tried to keep my expression neutral, the panic was rising inside me. I knew he could see it. I knew expression neutral, the panic was rising he had noticed the shift in my

demeano

He knows something. That thought echoed over and over in my mind, making it hard to breathe. I fought to stay calm, to keep my guard up, but Nathan's presence, his scrutiny, made it impossible.