Chapter 188
Chapter 188
Ryan's words landed without much force, but they hit like a small stone dropped into still water — ripples spreading out in silence, reaching every nerve in the room.
Bianca's face went almost colorless in that instant. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, then she swallowed it back down.
Her hand at her side tightened around her skirt, knuckles going white. She stood frozen, eyes locked on the child in Ryan's arms, terrified of what he might say next.
Henry was already sensitive about this subject. Now suspicion was creeping in.
Marlowe sat at the head of the table, her utensils hovering in midair. The look in her eyes shifted slowly from doubt to something more calculating.
She glanced at the baby, then at Bianca, her gaze lingering on Bianca's drained face for a few seconds. A glint of something unreadable flashed in her eyes.
"The child is so young. How can you already tell who she looks like?"
Ryan turned around unhurriedly, still holding the baby, facing Marlowe with the same easy smile — though something in his eyes carried a quiet, deliberate weight.
"She may be young, but you can already make out the features. Look at those eyes, that little nose — she's the spitting image of Bianca."
He looked down and played with the baby, who giggled and grabbed his tie with both hands.
"Am I wrong?"
Bianca finally couldn't hold it together. She stepped forward and reached for the child, her voice tight with barely contained urgency. "Let me take her. She's hungry."
Ryan didn't hand the baby over right away. He played with her for another moment, then smiled and passed her across.
"What's the rush? I'm not going to run off with her."
Bianca grabbed the baby and pulled her close, arms wrapped tight around the small back, fingertips white from the pressure. She stepped back twice and managed a pale, strained smile.
Gloria hadn't said a word this whole time.
She sat at the table with a glass of water in front of her, her right hand resting lightly against the side of it, fingertips tracing slow, idle circles along the rim.
Her eyes seemed to be on the baby, but she was quietly taking in every face in the room.
When she judged the moment was right, she picked up the glass and took a calm sip. She set it down and spoke in an even tone.
"Alright, Ryan, stop talking nonsense."
"The baby's too young. Her features haven't settled yet — you can't tell who she looks like."
"Besides, babies change every single day. Today she looks like one person, tomorrow someone else entirely. Wait until she grows up and it'll be obvious."
It sounded like she was coming to Bianca's rescue. But every word was a quiet insinuation.
Henry's expression had already darkened.
He sat across from Gloria, his utensils set aside and untouched, eyes resting on the baby with an unreadable depth.
The smile that had lingered from playing with the child earlier was still on his lips — but it had frozen there. The warmth in his eyes was draining away.
A newborn's face is all scrunched up, features crowded together. There really wasn't much to read into it.
"My mistake. I spoke out of turn."
Ryan smiled, handed the baby back to Bianca, and watched her force a smile with an expression of quiet amusement.
"Just something I said off the top of my head. Don't take it to heart."
He walked back to the table, sat down, cut a piece of steak, and chewed it with a loud crunch — completely unbothered, as if those words had truly meant nothing at all.
Marlowe's gaze grew heavier.
She lifted her soup bowl, took a slow sip, and as she set it down, let her eyes drift almost imperceptibly back to Bianca.
Bianca stood there holding the baby, her face ashen.
"Let's eat. The food's getting cold."
Gloria took a bite of vegetables and looked over at Ryan.
"You don't come by often. Eat up. The kitchen made soup today — try some."
Ryan settled back into his seat, picked up the bowl, and smiled. "Thank you."
The meal continued, with everyone lost in their own thoughts.
Toward the end of dinner, the baby started to fuss. Bianca seized the chance like a lifeline, stood up with the child, and said quickly, "Mrs. Marlowe Tudor, she's tired. I'll take her upstairs to sleep."
Marlowe gave a small nod. Her eyes followed Bianca's back all the way to the staircase, watching until she disappeared around the corner before slowly looking away.
Ryan let out a quiet laugh — one that carried something harder to name.
Marlowe glanced at him, turning over Bianca's strange reaction in her mind, feeling more unsettled by the minute.
After dinner, Ryan didn't linger. He stood up and said his goodbyes.
Gloria walked him to the door. They stood together in the entryway.
"Nice performance," Ryan said under his breath, a small, knowing smile on his lips.
"Yours too." Gloria's reply was cool and even.
Ryan gave a short laugh, let the exchange drop, and left.
Gloria closed the door. When she came back into the living room, Henry was standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a glass of water, staring at nothing.
"He's gone?"
"Yes."
Gloria walked past him. He reached out and stopped her.
"What is it?"
She looked up at him.
Henry looked down at her. "Who do you think the baby looks like?"
Something shifted inside Gloria, though her face stayed still.
She tilted her head slightly, as if thinking it over, then gave a small shake of her head.
"Babies' features haven't developed yet. You can't really tell. And does it matter who she looks like? She's a Tudor either way."
"That's not what I'm asking."
Henry cut her off, his voice dropping.
Gloria looked at him quietly and waited. A few seconds passed. He didn't go on.
"Then what are you asking?"
Henry opened his mouth. No sound came out.
Gloria turned slightly, stepping out of his line of sight, her voice flat. "You already know whose child she is. Better than anyone. Don't you?"
Henry went still for a moment.
Gloria didn't wait for a response. She turned and went upstairs.
Henry stood where he was, his grip on the glass slowly tightening.
She was right.
He knew exactly whose child it was.
So why had Ryan's comment hit him so hard?
Why, the more he looked at that baby's face, the less she seemed to look like him?
He drew a slow breath and pushed the thought down.
---
At the same moment, upstairs in the guest room.
Marlowe sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, the screen going dark and lighting up again.
Ryan's words kept circling in her head, like a snake that had slipped in and wouldn't leave — coiling tighter, pressing harder.
The more she thought about it, the more something felt off.
She hesitated for a long time. Then she made the call.
"Look into Bianca for me. Everything — especially the time before she got together with Henry. I want every detail."
The voice on the other end answered once, asked nothing, and hung up cleanly.
Marlowe set the phone face-down on the nightstand and lay back on the bed, staring up at the crystal chandelier with dark, flat eyes, something cold and calculating turning over behind them.
Gloria was already enough of a headache. If Bianca was hiding something too...
She stopped herself from following that thought any further.
---
At the same time, in Gloria's room.
She came out of the shower with her hair half-dry, loose around her shoulders, wearing an oversized robe. She leaned against the headboard and picked up her phone.
The screen was lit. A message from Leopold.
[Marlowe's people are already moving. They're digging into Bianca's years in the entertainment industry.]
Gloria read it. The corner of her mouth curved slightly.
[Let Bianca know.]
Leopold replied immediately: [You want her to know Marlowe's looking into her?]
[Yes.]
[If she knows, won't she just destroy the evidence?]
Gloria settled back against the pillow, a faint smile on her lips, and typed slowly.
[That's exactly the point. Let her know. Let her panic.]
She paused, then kept going.
[When someone panics, they make mistakes. And mistakes leave trails. As for destroying the evidence —]
Her smile deepened.
[The faster she destroys it, the more suspicious Marlowe becomes.]