Chapter 925

Peter’s expression darkened at Hayden’s playful jab, but Hayden merely smiled lightly, as if relishing the discomfort. “From what you’ve said, Mr. Mitchell, you must be quite the romantic,” he teased.

The tea began to boil, releasing a rich fragrance into the air. Hayden had done his homework on Peter. Despite his dignified reputation, Mr. Mitchell had married three times, fathered no children with his wives, and even had an illegitimate child with a mistress. This mistress bore him a son and then tried to leverage the child to gain the title of “Madam Mitchell.” Peter, stubborn and prideful, refused her demands and even sent people to take the child by force.

But the mistress, knowing Peter’s methods, preemptively entrusted the child to someone else. When Mitchell’s men came to seize the boy, an explosive argument broke out. In a fit of rage, Mitchell struck her, and in defiance, the mistress stabbed herself in the chest, intending only to scare him. Unfortunately, the blade pierced her heart, killing her instantly.

The boy vanished without a trace afterward, leaving Peter to search tirelessly. Years later, his second wife bore him a son, and only then did he relinquish his obsession. Yet, his luck with descendants remained poor—his only son fathered a single child who now lay comatose, unable to wake.

Hayden’s offhand comment about “romantic devotion” hit a nerve. Peter coughed lightly, masking his discomfort. “Young man, it’s unwise to comment on matters you don’t fully understand. Don’t preach what you haven’t lived.”

Hayden poured the tea into two cups, the steam curling gently upward. “If hearsay isn’t reliable, why not share your version of the story, Mr. Mitchell?”

Peter regarded the steaming tea, his expression unreadable. “I’m not here to explain myself to you. If there’s anything to be said, it should be said to that girl.”

“My wife isn’t in a position to meet strangers right now. You should know her situation,” Hayden replied, dropping all pretense.

Peter locked eyes with Hayden, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve known your grandfather for many years. You carry a hint of his younger self’s spirit.”

As Hayden suspected, Peter’s appearance wasn’t a coincidence. It was orchestrated by the Hart family patriarch. “You’ve already paved the way with him. Seems you’re quite determined,” Hayden said, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

Peter shook his head, his lips curling into a faint smile. “No wonder you’ve been acting so audacious—you’ve misunderstood me.”

Hayden turned the teacup in his hands. “Then why don’t you clear up the misunderstanding?”

“I’m not here for what you think. I genuinely want to recognize her as family, to bring her into the Mitchell lineage, and to make up for what I owe her father,” Peter said, taking a sip of tea.

Her father—Peter’s long-lost son. Now, with her father gone, his focus had shifted to her…and her unborn child.

“Interesting timing. Why now? Why not sooner?” Hayden’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

The seasoned elder remained unperturbed. “Fate works in strange ways. I’ve spent my whole life searching for my other son, only to come up empty. Then, after my only grandson’s accident, suddenly there was news. Perhaps the heavens haven’t abandoned the Mitchell family after all.”

Hayden smirked but said nothing.

Peter continued, his gaze piercing. “Hayden, even if she refuses to acknowledge me, it doesn’t matter. Just knowing she’s my granddaughter, a part of the Mitchell family, is enough for me.”

Hayden’s lips twitched into a faint, cynical smile. So that’s it. The child she carries has Mitchell blood. My wife, her parents gone, now burdened with relatives she never asked for. It was ironic. Laughable.

“If all you want is to know, then there’s nothing more to discuss,” Hayden said, rising from his seat.

Peter stopped him. “What does that girl want to say to me?”

Hayden paused, his eyes cold and calculating. “She hasn’t decided yet. And honestly, I don’t think it matters.”

Peter’s expression didn’t change, but the atmosphere grew heavier. He sipped his tea again, his gaze distant, as though considering his next move.