Chapter 603

The door to Finnegan's villa flew open with a heavy thud, then slammed shut behind him.

He collapsed onto the living room sofa, his hands buried in his already disheveled hair, knuckles white from the pressure.

Outside, the bright sunlight was blinding, and the picturesque blue skies and clear waters of Marigoldia stood in stark contrast to the storm brewing inside Finnegan.

"Finnegan," Mabel appeared at the doorway, her eyes swollen and red, her meticulously styled curls now a tangled mess against her face.

Seeing Finnegan's cold expression, Mabel's heart sank.

She slowly walked over to Finnegan, then suddenly dropped to her knees.

"I messed up, I know I did," Mabel's voice trembled with tears, her fingers shaking as they clutched at Finnegan's pant leg. "But Jett is innocent. He doesn't know anything. You've raised him for thirteen years; there has to be some fatherly bond."

Finnegan recoiled as if bitten by a snake. "Fatherly bond?"

His voice twisted with anger. "I've been raising someone else's kid for thirteen years, and you talk to me about fatherly bond?"

Mabel's tears fell in large drops onto the floor. "You're over fifty; you can't have another son."

She lifted her tear-streaked face, grasping at straws. "I swear I'll make sure Jett is devoted to you. He'll be better than a biological son."

Mabel thought this would sway Finnegan.

After all, Finnegan was nearly sixty. Having another child would be difficult, and there was no guarantee it would be a son. Even if he did have a son, raising a child would take a lot of effort.

But Jett was already thirteen, and Finnegan had a bond with him. Mabel remembered how Finnegan doted on Jett, surely, there was still some fatherly affection.

"Get out!" Finnegan kicked Mabel hard, sending her crashing into the table.

The sound of the glass shattering was like a sharp slap. "I'm going back to the States soon to find a lawyer and divorce you!"

Finnegan stood up, looking down at Mabel sprawled on the floor, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "I'd rather find another woman to have a son with than continue raising someone else's kid!"

Mabel's face turned pale. She knew Finnegan too well. The man who once carried Jett on his shoulders at amusement parks, who never hesitated to buy Jett the most expensive toys, would let all his love evaporate in an instant once he knew Jett wasn't his blood.

Finnegan turned and walked upstairs, his footsteps heavy as if he were trampling on the corpse of an enemy.

Half an hour later, he came downstairs with a suitcase, looking sharp in his suit, as if the man who had broken down earlier was just an illusion.

"Finnegan, I'm begging you," Mabel was still kneeling, her voice hoarse. "For the sake of our fifteen years of marriage."

Finnegan didn't even glance at her, heading straight for the door. "The lawyer will contact you."

The sound of the door closing wasn't loud, but it was final.

Mabel sat in a daze for a few minutes, then suddenly grabbed the broken glass on the floor and hurled it at the door.

"Bastard!" She screamed, her voice piercing. "You'll pay for this, Finnegan!"

After venting, Mabel collapsed on the floor, her carefully applied makeup smeared into a black mess.

Outside, Finnegan's car had already driven away, taking all his resolve and selfishness, disappearing down the road lined with palm trees.

The hospital's antiseptic smell was nauseating.

Mabel walked mechanically down the corridor, heading first to Jett's room.

Jett was still asleep, his head wrapped in thick bandages, his face pale.

Mabel gently stroked Jett's face, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes. Whose child was this? Fifteen years ago, during that chaotic time, she couldn't remember clearly.

"Mom?" Jett's eyes opened slightly, his voice weak. "Where's Dad?"

Mabel forced a smile. "Dad had to go back to the States for something. You rest up, okay?"

She quickly stood up, unable to face the expectation in Jett's eyes. "Mom's going to check on Upton, I'll be back soon."

The room guarded by the police felt colder than the others.

Upton lay on the bed, his face ashen, the bandages on his abdomen and the catheter telling of his humiliation.

Seeing Mabel enter, his eyes brightened for a moment, then dimmed again.

"Finnegan wants to divorce me," Mabel sat by the bed, her voice barely audible.

Upton grabbed Mabel's hand suddenly. "How dare he!"

The movement pulled at his wound, making him grimace in pain. "Mabel, don't be afraid. The holes in his company are enough to give him headaches. When you get back to the States, use that to threaten him. See if he dares to divorce you!"

Mabel's eyes brightened slightly, but soon dimmed again. "But you, here in Marigoldia."

"Money!" Upton gritted his teeth. "As long as the money is right, I won't be in jail for long."

A hint of malice flashed in his eyes. "The key is that bitch Zoey. She made me sterile, I'll make her feel the pain of losing a son!"

Mabel shuddered. "Are you crazy? Kidnap her son? We can't afford to mess with the Windsor family!"

Upton sneered, his face contorting into a sinister expression. "Those two brats aren't Henry's biological children. They're just kids Zoey brought from her previous marriage. Henry won't care much."

He lowered his voice. "Get professionals to do it, so it can't be traced back to us."

"No!" Mabel stood up abruptly, the chair scraping the floor with a harsh sound. "It's too risky!"

Upton stared at Mabel for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled. "Fine, I'll listen to you."

But his eyes were as cold as a snake's. "But Mabel, you need to gather the money quickly to get me out. I can't stand another day in this hellhole."

Mabel nodded and hurried out of the room.

She didn't see the madness in Upton's eyes behind her.

Outside the corridor window, the sunset stained the sea blood-red.

Upton struggled to the edge of the bed, pulling out a hidden phone from under the pillow.

He dialed a number, his voice hoarse. "It's me. Yes, I'll pay more, but it needs to be done quickly."

Hanging up, Upton looked out at the sunset, a twisted smile on his lips.

The pain in his abdomen and the emptiness below constantly reminded him of his humiliation, while the flames of revenge burned ever hotter.

"Zoey," Upton whispered the name, savoring it like the sweetest poison. "I'll make you beg me on your knees."

Far out on the sea, a yacht sailed towards the sunset, the white wake trailing behind it like an unhealed wound on the blue surface.

The lights of the resort began to flicker on, laughter and joy drifting on the wind, unaware of the dark conspiracy growing in the shadows.