Chapter 188: Do You Hate Me Too?
Elena assumed Nathaniel had brought the child home secretly, fearing the mother was unsuitable for public exposure.
Nathaniel felt helpless. Is she still willing to acknowledge the child if it isn’t mine? he wondered. "Don't concern yourself with this," he said, immediately hanging up. Restless, he scrolled through his phone's photo gallery. His hidden album contained three photos: Cecilia's pregnancy report, a picture of Elliot, and a silhouette of a young girl. He stared intently at Elliot's photo. Is he really Calvin's son? he questioned, skeptical but afraid to verify it. Confirmation of no relation would extinguish all hope; thus, verification was avoided. Unbeknownst to him, Elena, overjoyed at the other end of the call, declared, "No matter what, I must find that child!" She immediately instructed her secretary to begin an investigation, determined to locate the child using any resources necessary. Her desire for a grandson wasn't solely about Nathaniel's legacy; it was primarily to reassure the Rainsworth elders about her genes. Decades earlier, she'd given birth to twins, but her younger son had a genetic disorder, causing friction with her mother-in-law. Even after Nathaniel's ascension, the elders alluded to his childlessness, suggesting health issues. Too proud to admit any genetic problem, Elena never shared her burden with Nathaniel.
Returning home, Cecilia found the living room lights on. Nathaniel, in casual clothes, sat on the couch, engrossed in a book. He didn't look up as she entered, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Approaching him, she said, "I'm back. I saw the flowers outside; they're beautiful," a subtle attempt to please him. He closed his book, acknowledging her with a hum. His voice was magnetic, but his eyes held complex emotions. Cecilia sensed something was amiss. "On my way back, I found a nice Japriumian restaurant and got you something," she offered, placing a bag on the coffee table. Knowing he usually skipped supper, she tried her luck. He pushed the food away. "I don't want to eat," he said, his voice deep and indifferent. Only he knew the reason: his mother's call revealing Cecilia's child with another man.
As Cecilia turned to leave, he grasped her wrist. She stopped, turning to face him, her expression perplexed. He asked, his words clear and measured, "Did my child really die at birth?" For the first time, Cecilia saw pain etched on his face. His final question hung heavy in the air: "Do you hate me too?"