Chapter 32
"Stay away from her." Marcus's tone turned harsh. "That woman is bad news. She's only getting close to your father for the Sharp and Hale families' money!"
"Really?" A perfectly calibrated confusion crossed Matthew's small face. "But I think Dr. Wells is really nice. She even tells me stories."
"What do you know!" Marcus's voice grew colder. "She's a con artist! Your mother is the one who loves you most in this world!"
Matthew fell silent for a moment. "Grandpa, what proof do you have that Dr. Wells is a con artist?"
Marcus choked.
"And what proof do you have that Bianca... is my biological mother?"
The question struck like thunder, making Marcus's ears ring. He stared at the child in disbelief. That look, that tone—where was the seven-year-old boy?
"What are you talking about!" Marcus's voice cracked with shock.
"I'm not talking nonsense. If she's really my mother, why doesn't she know when I was born? Why does she only cry when asked about giving birth to me?"
"Grandpa, you say Dr. Wells is a fraud. So what do you call a woman who can't even remember when her own child was born?"
Marcus found himself speechless, his face alternating between red and pale. Watching the old man rendered mute with anger, Matthew dropped his final bombshell.
"How about this," he said with a slight smile—one that held a sharpness beyond his years. "Let's go to the hospital tomorrow. Her and me—we'll do a DNA test."
"As soon as the results prove she's my real mom, I'll believe everything you say and never see Dr. Wells again."
"Do you dare?"
Marcus had lived over sixty years and weathered countless storms, yet in this moment, a seven-year-old's "Do you dare?" sent a chill down his spine. Those eyes—identical to Lucas's—held no childish innocence, only penetrating clarity and sharpness.
Did he dare? Of course not! Once they did the test, everything would be over! The alliance between the Hale and Sharp families, the business empire he'd spent years building—it would all crumble in an instant!
Marcus forced himself to calm down. He picked up his teacup and took a sip, using the motion to mask the storm raging inside him.
"Dami, what nonsense." He set down the cup, forcing a benevolent smile back onto his face. "A paternity test would break your mother's heart. Think how upset she'd be."
"Oh." Matthew nodded as if accepting this explanation, then immediately followed with another question. "Then why can't she remember when I was born?"
"Well..." Marcus struggled, his mind racing. "Your mother... she's always had a weak constitution. The hemorrhaging when you were born damaged her health. Memory loss is normal."
"Really?" Matthew tilted his head. "But I heard the nanny say that giving birth is instinct for women, like how chickens lay eggs. How could she forget? Is my mom a fake chicken?"
Marcus's jaw dropped. Was this child a demon? Each analogy more cutting than the last!
Looking at that innocent face, he felt fear for the first time. This wasn't a seven-year-old child—this was a monster in a child's skin!
Just as he struggled to come up with an explanation, Bianca descended the stairs carrying a fruit platter.
"Dami, what are you and Grandpa chatting about so happily?"
The sharpness instantly vanished from Matthew's face. "Grandpa's telling me stories!"
Marcus watched the seamless performance shift, feeling ice creep from his feet to the crown of his head. When had Dami become so unreadable?
The next day, Juliana arrived at the Sharp estate as agreed. This time, not to see Ashley, but to treat that arrogant, troublesome man—Lucas.
He was leaning against the headboard reviewing documents. When she entered, he merely lifted his eyelids, gesturing for her to begin.
Juliana set down her medical kit and started a series of professional examinations. His pulse remained erratic but was much steadier than yesterday—clearly those needles had worked.
Next, she pulled out her stethoscope and told him to remove his shirt. Lucas complied, untying his robe to reveal his muscular upper body.
Juliana's movements faltered. The man's torso was covered in scars, old and new. Some were faint surgical scars, but more were vicious, clearly inflicted by blades. Especially near his left shoulder, close to his heart, was an old penetrating wound. The surrounding skin had deformed.
While listening to his heart and lungs, Juliana spoke casually. "Mr. Sharp, these scars... don't look like something a businessman should have."
"Mind your own business." Lucas's tone was cold.
That attitude again. Juliana withdrew the stethoscope.
"Your old injury has affected your organs. Combined with chronic sleep deprivation and constant mental stress, your body is severely depleted. I recommend starting with herbal medicine to restore your health."
As she spoke, she pulled out pre-prepared medicinal ingredients from her kit. "These are herbs I've prepared for you. For the first week, they need to be brewed in my special medicine pot, three times a day, one bowl each time."
She poured the herbs into the pot and began working with practiced efficiency. Lucas watched her busy figure in silence.
Half an hour later, a bowl of dark, murky liquid appeared before him.
"Drink it." Juliana's tone carried no emotion.
Lucas took it. Among the medicinal smell, he detected a hint of something familiar—some kind of sedative herb.
"What did you put in this?"
"Something to help you sleep."
"What exactly?"
"An herbal remedy."
"Take it away." Lucas pushed the bowl back, his attitude firm. "If you can't even name it, how good can it be?"