Chapter 280: No One's Innocent

Chase looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “He actually knows how to cook?” What was even more surprising was his willingness to do so.

Sierra couldn’t help herself. “Mr. Yeager’s a great person. It’s just that some people never really bothered to understand him.”

Chase immediately picked up on the jab. He looked her up and down. “You know who I am?”

Sierra looked him straight in the eye. “I only know that if someone makes Mr. Yeager unhappy, then they don’t deserve to be happy either.”

That caught Chase off guard. He could see how serious she was. She wasn’t afraid to offend him to defend Jonathan.

Jonathan, now finished washing up, came out of the kitchen just in time to hear that. The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, the irritation in his heart easing.

As he changed his shoes, he said, “The filling’s ready and the dough’s resting. You and Dickson can go ahead and start. I’ll join you to wrap them when I get back.”

Sierra chimed in, “You make them the best. Ours always fall apart.”

Jonathan knew exactly what she was doing—telling him to hurry up.

“Got it,” he replied warmly, then closed the door behind him. The moment it clicked shut, all the warmth left his face. Only cold indifference remained.

He didn’t head downstairs. Instead, he led Chase into the fire escape and said flatly, “What do you want?”

Chase studied him for a long moment, his expression complicated. Ever since Cindy died, he’d never seen this version of Jonathan. Every time they crossed paths, he’d either been angry or icy cold. As he got older, he learned to hide his emotions, but that just made him more distant. Eventually, Chase came to believe those were the only expressions his son had left.

But today, he saw something else—warmth, even tenderness. The way Jonathan had acted in that apartment, cooking, joking, being present—that was new. The strangest part was, it didn’t seem out of place. It suited him. He could act that way with others. Just not with his father. That realization stung.

“Come on,” Chase said quietly. “We’re still father and son. Can’t we talk like people?”

Jonathan gave him a look like he’d grown another head. “Are you brain damaged? If so, go to a hospital. Don’t waste my time.” He checked his watch. “You’ve already burned five minutes and haven’t said anything useful. I’ve got dumplings to make.” He turned to leave.

Chase quickly stepped in front of him. “After today, I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” He took a deep breath. “I know you hate me. If you’ve got a problem, come at me. But your aunt and your brother… they’re innocent.”

Every word landed like a blow to Jonathan’s nerves.

Jonathan let out a low, humorless laugh and turned around, his eyes dark. “No one’s innocent. And don’t worry—this is just the beginning. I haven’t even gotten to you yet.”

His words sent a chill down Chase’s spine. “You really want to burn everything down? Jonathan, don’t force my hand.”

Jonathan scoffed. “You haven’t laid hands on me enough already?”

He remembered the day his mother died—how she’d killed herself, and how his father hadn’t even gone to see her because he was too busy with another woman and another child. Jonathan had lost it. He lashed out at Jose, and when Chase found out, he came home and beat him so badly he nearly died. He’d never forget that day. That was the day his father died too—at least in his heart.

Chase’s face went pale. He remembered it too. After Cindy’s suicide, the pressure on him had been immense. When he got word that Jonathan had almost beaten Jose to death, he saw it as nothing more than teenage rebellion. So he picked up a stick and “taught him a lesson.” He hadn’t expected Jonathan to stay silent, to glare at him with those hateful eyes that looked exactly like Cindy’s. He hadn’t meant to go that far. But by the time he realized what he’d done, Jonathan was lying in a pool of blood.

After that, Jonathan never went home again. The old man took him in. At first, Jonathan was furious. Then he stopped caring. Eventually, he looked at Chase like he was just some guy off the street.

Chase thought about all of it now, and his chest ached. “…I’m sorry,” he said quietly.