Chapter 239

Chapter 239

The two women tiptoed to take the baby from Frederick's arms, gently laying him in the crib.

"Mr. Johnson, we really can't thank you enough for today."

Beatrice's voice was low, filled with genuine gratitude.

"Don't mention it." Frederick flexed his somewhat numb arm.

Behind his lenses, his eyes reflected the sleeping face in the cradle, his gaze lingering, reluctant to look away.

That dinner was like a switch, completely dissolving the barrier between the two courtyards.

The days that followed took on a routine warmth.

Frederick threw himself wholeheartedly into playing the role of 'all-capable neighbor David Johnson.'

When a section of Beatrice's yard fence came loose in the wind, the next morning, it was reinforced solid with fresh branches.

When Nina complained about the slippery path down the mountain, the following day, shallow anti-slip grooves had been chiseled into the steepest stone steps.

He always finished everything silently at dawn or during their afternoon naps, then slipped away just as quietly.

Like a steadfast guardian keeping watch at the edge of this backyard.

His payment came at dusk, when Nina's clear voice called across the courtyard wall: "David, dinner's ready!"

Frederick would set down whatever he was working on and, limping on that leg, walk over unhurriedly to sit at the stone table.

He was no longer as stiff as that first time. Occasionally, he'd even take the bowl from Nina's hands and head to the kitchen to ladle soup himself.

Watching him navigate so familiarly, Beatrice found it both amusing and comforting.

This David was seamlessly weaving himself into their lives, gentle as spring rain.

The most common scene at the dinner table was Beatrice and Nina eating while David handled baby duty.

Little Ray seemed particularly fond of this quiet David.

As long as David held him, Ray rarely fussed.

Frederick's movements evolved from initially clumsy to increasingly practiced.

He could hold the baby with one hand while steadily managing the bottle with the other, his feeding posture even more textbook-perfect than Beatrice's, the actual mother.

"David, with skills like yours, you could open a baby boutique in the city and put everyone else out of business."

Nina gnawed on a pork rib while teasing through a mouthful of food. "Back in the military logistics, were you specifically assigned to look after the commanding officers' kids or something?"

Frederick was concentrating on burping Ray when the words made him freeze mid-pat.

He nearly blurted out, 'I was the commanding officer.'

He cleared his throat, using that earnest tone to reply, "Nothing like that. I just... raised my own, so I've got experience."

Listening from the side, Beatrice felt a flicker of doubt.

After these days together, she'd noticed that aside from his limp and scarred face, this David didn't really seem like a retired soldier.

His table manners, even at this rustic stone table in the countryside, still carried a refinement ingrained deep in his bones.

He spoke deliberately, clearly, and occasionally, when he looked at Ray, that deep tenderness in his eyes always hid some complex emotion she couldn't quite read.

He was too lonely.

Besides them, Beatrice had never seen anyone come to visit him.

He was always alone, keeping to that empty courtyard like an island.

That evening after dinner, Ray fell asleep in Frederick's arms again.

Frederick sat in a chair in the courtyard holding the baby, gently rocking.

The moonlight was beautiful, filtering through gaps in the leaves to cast dappled shadows.

Beatrice gave Nina a look, sending her inside first.

She grabbed a small stool and sat down beside Frederick.

"Mr. Johnson." She spoke softly.

"Yes?" Frederick responded without turning his head, his gaze still on the child in his arms.

"You've been here a while now, and you're always alone... What about your family?" Beatrice asked carefully, afraid of touching on painful memories.

Frederick's rocking motion stopped.

The courtyard went so quiet that only cricket chirps and wind through the trees remained.

After a long while, he finally spoke slowly, his voice much lower than usual, as if soaked in the night.

"I don't have family anymore."

Beatrice's chest tightened.

"My wife..." He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as if organizing his words or perhaps suppressing emotion.

"After our child died, she didn't last two more years. She passed too."

His tone was matter-of-fact, without excessive grief, yet it cut like a dull blade, slow and deep.

"It was heartbreak. The doctor said she died of sorrow. Couldn't hold on."

Beatrice felt her nose sting.

She could imagine the wrenching pain of a mother losing her child.

And this David, after enduring the loss of his son, had lost his wife, too.

No wonder he carried that heavy, inescapable melancholy.

So for ten years, he'd been getting through it all alone.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't know what comforting words to offer, and could only give this dry apology.

"It's okay. It's all in the past." Frederick's voice regained some steadiness.

He turned his head to look at Beatrice, pulling his face into a smile uglier than crying. "Now when I see Ray, I feel like life's still got something worth looking forward to."

Beatrice looked at the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, particularly deep in the moonlight.

The sympathy in her heart nearly overflowed.

"Then... don't you have any other relatives? Like siblings or anything?"

Frederick shook his head, then seemed to remember something.

"Actually, there's a niece. My older brother's daughter. Her parents died young, so I basically raised her. She works in Silverwave City, keeps pretty busy, but manages to visit now and then."

No wonder he'd moved to this remote mountain village—probably to escape that city filled with painful memories.

The last trace of doubt in Beatrice's heart completely vanished.

Looking at this David before her, she felt only deep compassion.

"You're a good person, Mr. Johnson." She spoke from the heart. "From now on, consider this your home too."

Frederick's heart took a hard hit from those words.

He looked at her clear eyes, filled with pure, uncomplicated kindness and trust.

That trust was a web he'd carefully woven with lie after lie, and he himself was drowning in it, unable to escape.

How he wanted to tell her he wasn't 'David Johnson'—he was Frederick.

He wasn't her neighbor but her husband.

The child in his arms wasn't just comfort for his loneliness but his own flesh and blood.

But he couldn't.

He could only suppress the surging waves in his chest, returning his gaze to Ray, murmuring in a voice only he could hear, low and greedy.

The night deepened. Frederick returned to the neighboring courtyard, still carrying the faint scent of cooking and soap from Beatrice's home.

He stood in the yard without immediately going inside, instead turning to look toward that patch of forest bathed in moonlight and the window glowing warmly beyond it.

"Home..."

He repeated the word in a low voice, tasting on his tongue not warmth but the bitterness of lies.

He walked inside without turning on the lights, went straight for his phone, and dialed that familiar number.

The call connected almost instantly.

"Mr. Stuart." Liam's voice was tense.

"I need a niece."

Frederick's voice was unnaturally calm in the darkness.

Deadly silence on the other end.

Liam wondered if his auditory nerves had finally died gloriously under his boss's relentless mental assault.

A niece?

Was this some new parenting curriculum?

Or a new chapter in his boss's wife-chasing saga requiring role-play?

"My older brother's daughter. Parents died young, I raised her, she's interning in Silverwave City."

Frederick filled in the backstory with economy.

"Find a female intern. Sharp, clean background. Bring her tomorrow."

Liam's brain raced, piecing together these details, instantly comprehending.

He felt less like a secretary and more like a Hollywood producer casting for his boss's rural romance drama.

"Understood, Mr. Stuart." He drew on every ounce of professional restraint to suppress his complaints.

The next morning, an unremarkable taxi stopped at the village entrance.

A young woman in a white dress stepped out, early twenties, long hair flowing past her shoulders, wearing thin-framed glasses, quiet and sweet-looking.

This was Flora Bailey, selected by Liam overnight from dozens of company interns.

An intern who'd only been with the company a month and had seen Frederick in person maybe twice total.

Flora clutched her gift, palms slick with sweat.

Last night she'd been woken by Liam's middle-of-the-night call, listened to a half-hour briefing, and before dawn was stuffed into a car.

Her head was full of Liam's haggard face and his repeated warnings: "Remember, that's your uncle, not the boss! Get one word wrong, and we can both pack our things and head home unemployed!"

Frederick had already changed into his getup and limped out from the courtyard, waving her over.

Flora saw him and her legs went weak, nearly dropping the gift.

This was the boss?

He wore a wrinkled jacket, tacky black-framed glasses, and a vicious scar across his face...

"Uncle David." She approached, her voice thin as a mosquito's whine.

Frederick looked her over and nodded. "Don't be nervous. Just pretend you're visiting family in the country."

The more he said that, the more nervous Flora became.

She felt less like she was visiting relatives and more like attending a life-or-death final interview.