Chapter 62: Dad Is… On a Date?

Cora’s father practically bolted.

Watching his hurried back, Cora only felt puzzled. Her mother sighed beside her. “Lately your dad’s been… dressing up. He never cared before—always said no one was looking anyway. But these past few days he’s bought a bunch of clothes. Said your grandmother gave him money.”

“When has Grandma ever been that generous?” Cora’s mouth twitched. “She usually shakes us down to feed Uncle’s family.”

“I know, it’s strange.” Her mother’s gaze wavered, then softened. “But if she’s finally being kind to your dad, that’s still something.”

Cora let it go and linked arms with her mother, steering her into the mall. Every time her mother saw a price tag she fussed that it was too expensive; every time, Cora ignored her, swiping the card for anything that fit. Protecting her mother—and making her happy—was Cora’s truest north.

After several outfits and shoes, her mother physically blocked the next purchase, laughing through her scolding. The two bodyguards trailing them had become makeshift porters, hands full of shopping bags.

“You’ve worked hard,” Cora told them, amused. “Please take these back to the hotel. Mom and I will grab a bite and then head over.”

One guard hesitated. “Mr. Watson asked us not to leave your side, ma’am.”

Ever since the car incident, Julian refused to let Cora wander the city alone. Her mother’s eyes warmed; she recognized care when she saw it.

“Then find a table nearby,” Cora compromised. “At least sit for a while.”

Her mother, mindful of Cora’s pregnancy, claimed she was tired and chose a cozy bistro to rest. They picked a corner, ordered a spread.

“This is too much,” her mother fretted. “We could’ve just gotten drinks.”

“Mom, you barely ate at lunch,” Cora said. “And I’m starving. We’ll nibble here and still eat at the hotel later. My appetite’s been better lately.”

“You’re eating for two. Of course you’re hungry. You eat—Mom’s fine with water.” The look she gave Cora was pure tenderness.

The plates arrived quickly. “Watch the table—I’m going to wash my hands,” Cora said.

“Go, go. Don’t be long.”

The restrooms were just around the bend. Cora was reaching for the door when a familiar voice drifted from the partitioned alcove nearby.

“That’s my situation,” a man said, careful, earnest. “If you’re willing, we can talk seriously.”

Cora’s hand froze on the handle.

Her father.

He was supposed to be “helping Grandma pick something out.”

A woman answered, bright with interest. “I’m happy with what I’ve heard. I’ve been widowed for years and I’m ready for a real family again. If you don’t mind that I have a child, I’ll be honest—I can give you another one after we marry.”

Marry?

Cora went numb.

She didn’t wash her hands. She slid into an empty seat by the divider, pulse roaring in her ears. From here, every word carried clear.

Her father chuckled, shy and vain at once. “I never had a child of my own. I’ve always regretted that. So yes… I want one.”

“Then why did you divorce?” the woman asked. “Because she couldn’t have children?”

“Yes,” he said, firm.

Divorced.

The word detonated inside her. Her father—dating? Telling a stranger he was divorced? Telling her he wanted a baby—now?

Why?

Her mother had given everything to this family—bent, swallowed, endured. How could he? He had always said one daughter—her—was enough. Where did that promise go?

Anger climbed her throat like fire. She clenched the chair so hard her knuckles ached, using pain to hold herself in place.

Is this fair to Mom?

Decades of work and humility. Obedient to elders, kind to a child that wasn’t even hers by blood. What sin deserved this sentence?

If he resented her infertility, why not leave then—when she was young—rather than now, when time had taken her softness?

And to do it in secret. To lie about his marriage while he shopped for a new life.

For the first time, Cora wished she didn’t share his surname at all.

Behind the partition, the conversation turned warm, eager—a duet of strangers imagining a future. Her father’s voice—usually stiff—grew smooth, fluent. Each casual promise drove a dull nail deeper into her chest.

Her phone buzzed. She flinched, fumbled it silent—then saw the name on the screen. Tears surged up, sudden and unstoppable.

In the lowest, loneliest moment, she wanted him.

She stepped away from the alcove and answered. Julian’s voice came low, steady, wrapping around her like a coat. “Why did you take so long to pick up?”

“Jule… what do I do?” She pressed her palm over her mouth, slipping outside the bistro. “I just saw my dad. He told us he was going to help Grandma with something, but he’s here. He’s—he’s on a date.”

Julian stared at the far wall of his office and exhaled. So she knew. If she also knew he’d been at it for more than a week…

“Don’t cry. Tell me where you are—I’m coming,” he said at once. “If you don’t want to shatter the picture-perfect family today, I’ll get you out of here.”

“I don’t know what to do. Do I tell my mom? If I don’t, I’ll feel like I’m betraying her. But if I do…” Her voice broke. “I’m afraid it’ll destroy her.”

“Come back to the hotel first,” he said. “Calm down. I’m on my way.”

Inside, her mother glanced at the restroom door, worry knitting her brows. Cora had been gone too long. She pushed back her chair to look for her—only to see Cora return with red-rimmed eyes.

“You’ve been crying,” her mother said softly. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Cora lied without missing a beat. “Messed up my makeup and got it in my eye.”

Her mother nodded toward the table. “Then sit. We shouldn’t waste this food. It’s expensive here.”

Cora picked up her fork and put it back down. The secret burned in her throat. She opened her mouth twice and shut it again, and each time her mother’s anxiety deepened.

“Sweetheart, did something happen? Don’t be scared—tell Mom.”

“Mom,” Cora blurted, “now that the debts are paid… why don’t you move to the city? It’ll be easier to look after me.”