Chapter 307

The morning sun cast golden rays through the kitchen window as Evelyn finished breakfast with the children.

Henry had been the one to suggest enrolling Lily in the same preschool as him.

It made things easier—no more rushing between different drop-offs and pick-ups.

On the surface, life seemed unchanged after Clara’s passing. Yet beneath it all, nothing felt the same.

"Winter’s over, Evelyn," Michael said as he pulled the car onto the main road. His voice was light, almost playful. "Time to leave the sadness behind. From now on, every day will bring you good fortune."

Evelyn shot him an unimpressed look.

"Do you ever talk like a normal human being?"

Michael cleared his throat, shifting into a more serious tone. "I know you’re still grieving. But we have to keep moving forward. There’s so much beauty ahead—new people, new joys."

"Eyes on the road," she reminded him flatly.

"Right." He turned on the radio, filling the silence with soft jazz.

After a moment, Evelyn spoke again. "Thank you, Michael."

"Hmm?" He turned the music down.

"For being there for the kids. And for me."

"Why the sudden gratitude? Your kids are my kids. Even if you weren’t here, I’d raise them myself," he said, his voice firm with conviction.

Evelyn gave him a long, knowing look.

Michael coughed awkwardly. "You know what I mean."

"I do."

At Mooncrest Manor, Eleanor had arrived in high spirits, clutching a 4D ultrasound scan.

She waved it excitedly at the staff. "Doesn’t he look just like Dominic? The resemblance is uncanny!"

The servants nodded enthusiastically, fueling Eleanor’s delight.

Dominic, hearing the commotion from upstairs, descended with measured steps.

"Dominic! Look at your son!" Eleanor rushed toward him, shoving the scan into his hands. "Zoe had this done yesterday. The doctor says he’s perfectly healthy!"

Dominic’s brow furrowed as he studied the image of the tiny, wrinkled fetus.

He saw no resemblance whatsoever.

If not for Sophia, he would never have allowed Zoe to keep this child.

"Is that all you have to say?" Eleanor huffed. "Zoe is carrying your child. Even if you don’t care about her, how can you be so indifferent to your own flesh and blood?"

Then, with a triumphant smile, she added, "I moved her into the guest house last night. As far as I’m concerned, she’s already part of this family."

Dominic had no energy to argue. His expression remained icy.

"Do what you want with that child. Just don’t involve me."

"What kind of attitude is that? This is your son!"

"Did any of you ask for my opinion before deciding to keep it?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "I won’t disrespect anyone’s choices, but don’t expect me to pretend this is what I wanted."

The ultrasound slipped from Eleanor’s fingers, fluttering to the floor.

An hour later, she was escorted out by the driver.

The manor fell into heavy silence.

Dominic checked his watch. Nearly noon.

Then, his phone rang.

The family doctor’s name flashed on the screen.

"Dominic! Have you heard about Eric Montclair? The accident on set two years ago left him in a coma—but he’s woken up! It’s a miracle!"

Dominic’s grip tightened around his phone. His voice was barely steady as he demanded, "Who treated him? Who’s his doctor?"