Mr. Marsh’s Twins

Agnes finally breathed a sigh of relief when she returned to her office. She had accidentally bumped into Mr. Marsh! What terrible luck! But then again, Mr. Marsh didn’t blame her, so maybe it wasn’t all bad luck after all? Agnes cuddled her kitten, happily stroking its fur. “Bubu, Bubu,” she called softly. The kitten responded with a gentle “meow.”

Fritz Manor.

The elegant castle-style mansion was surrounded by Mrs. Fritz’s favorite roses, all of which were famous varieties from abroad, cultivated successfully and blooming beautifully. This estate was a gift from Mr. Fritz to Mrs. Fritz, taking seven years to create its current form. It was a peaceful retreat that seemed far from the city’s hustle and bustle, yet it was in an excellent location.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

In this season of renewal, the air was filled with the fragrance of roses, easily lifting one’s spirits. In the vast yard, under the long pergola, Williams sipped his tea while looking towards the outdoor pool in the distance. His brows furrowed slightly, deep in thought. He had just watched his son dive into the pool again.

The soft sunlight filtered through the gaps in the pergola roof, casting a glow on this middle-aged man. Despite some signs of aging on his face, he seemed more charming than in his youth. Jane, dressed in a cheongsam and high heels, walked gracefully towards him. She was an elegant woman with a gentle personality and excellent temperament.

Recently, her husband and son seemed to be in a cold war. Though there were no arguments, something was clearly amiss between them, leaving Jane feeling caught in the middle and unsure of what to do. Seeing his wife approaching, Williams snapped out of his thoughts. He uncrossed his legs and relaxed his brows. “Jane.”

“Williams, I’ve been thinking seriously these past few days about Tom wanting to return to the lab. I want to talk to you about it.” Jane sat down in a chair after much deliberation. “Of course, this isn’t his idea; he hasn’t asked me to do anything for him.”

Williams remained silent but looked at his wife warmly, willing to hear her thoughts.

The elegant middle-aged woman glanced towards the pool and began softly, “Since he doesn’t want to manage the company anymore, you’re still young and fully capable of handling it yourself. Why not… let him go? Don’t force him.”

“It doesn’t matter whether he manages the company or not; I can return as chairman and take over all affairs.” Williams was still young at heart and physically robust in his fifties or sixties-prime time for business battles with experience and connections.

He said worriedly, “But he’s my only son. If he becomes a professor at the Chemical Institute, it means leading his team back into the lab. You know how risky lab work can be.”

Jane’s mood also grew heavy upon hearing this.

Her husband continued, “Even if he succeeds 999 times out of 1, 000 experiments, just one failure means we lose our son.”

Jane fell silent, a trace of sadness appearing in her eyes.

This was a selfish consideration from a father’s perspective-an instinctive one.

He explained further, “I’m not insisting he takes over the company; he can leave if he doesn’t like it. But he can’t engage in such dangerous work anymore.”

Their son had graduated from Stanford University’s Chemistry Department-the best in the world-only top talents were admitted back then.

During Tom’s school years, Williams had always been on edge and hadn’t slept soundly even once.

“But he’s been passionate about chemistry since childhood and has an extraordinary talent,” Jane resigned herself to saying. “Without contributions from people like him, society’s most urgent issues in the 21st century would never be resolved. Do you believe in fate?”