Chapter 966: The Drunken Mr. Olteran

Chapter 966: The Drunken Mr. Olteran

Randall put his arm around Susan and walked to the door, hailed a cab, and left.

Everyone else headed out, and the family of three were the last to go, heading straight back to Cherry Villa — their own little home, just the three of them.

Patrick was usually a quiet man, but drunk and holding his sleeping son, he couldn't hide his love and kept kissing the boy over and over.

He actually kissed Teddy awake. Theodore stirred in a daze, scrunched up his little face, and burst into tears. Patrick held his son and asked softly, "Theodore, do you know who Daddy loves most?"

Theodore just kept crying.

Patrick went on anyway: "Daddy loves you and your mommy most."

Theodore cried even harder — all he wanted was a nap on his birthday, and even that was too much to ask.

Still drunk, Patrick held his son and gently rocked him: "Do you know, do you know who Daddy loves most?"

Vera quickly "rescued" Teddy from her husband's arms: "Honey, what's gotten into you? How did you get this drunk?"

Safe in his mother's arms, Teddy gradually stopped crying. His big eyes, still glistening with tears on his long curled lashes, stared at his dad with wide curiosity — this was nothing like the father he knew.

Patrick had drunk the most today. His brothers kept pouring for him, and he returned every toast, so he'd had plenty.

With no son in his arms, he turned his gaze to his wife: "Vera, do you know who matters most to me?"

Vera guessed carefully: "Me and our son, right?"

Patrick reached over and tapped little Teddy on the forehead: "The most important person can only be one. He'll have to wait in line. You're the only one who matters most."

Teddy, tears still fresh on his lashes, was speechless.

Vera couldn't help saying: "Maybe fib a little — your son is sharp as a tack, he understands everything."

Patrick looked at his son, then corrected himself: "Fine, you barely make second place."

Teddy flopped straight back into his mom's arms and clung to her like a little koala, done with his dad.

When they arrived at Cherry Villa, the housekeeper came out to welcome them.

Vera handed Teddy to the housekeeper and helped her husband back to the bedroom. She told the housekeeper, "Just put Theodore on the bed however. First bring Mr. Crandall a glass of warm water, then have the kitchen make something for the hangover."

Vera bent down, lifted her husband's legs, and pulled off his leather shoes, then slipped off his jacket and tossed it over Theodore. She helped Patrick lie down and tucked him in.

Teddy wriggled out from under his dad's suit jacket, stuck his little bottom in the air, and lay at the edge of the bed, keeping his mom company as she took care of his dad — who'd gotten happily drunk over his own first birthday party.

He crawled up and gnawed right on his dad's mouth.

Patrick opened his drowsy eyes and looked at little Teddy in front of him. Before Vera, he had never imagined he would have a happy little family — or a son this sweet and soft.

"Theodore, do you love Daddy?"

Teddy lay there bottom-up on the bed and mumbled, "Love."

His little face got a kiss from his dad.

Vera sat on the edge of the bed, seeing her husband this drunk for the first time: "Honey, were you really happy to see Randall today? Can you tell me — what was that thank-you speech from Randall all about?"

Patrick lay flat on the bed, looking at Vera trying to fish for information the roundabout way: "Vera, even drunk, your husband has more sense than you."

Vera gave his chest a playful slap, eyes shifting: "I wasn't fishing for anything."

Teddy propped himself up on his dad's chest, desperate to tell his mom all the little secrets he had stored up inside — but everything that came out was pure baby babble. Vera looked puzzled: "Baby, what are you trying to say?"

The hangover drink arrived, and Vera took it: "Honey, drink this — we still have things to do this afternoon."

Patrick hadn't forgotten. As he drank it, Teddy sat beside him, drooling with envy.

Patrick finally picked him up and held the bowl to his little mouth.

Theodore stuck out his tongue and lapped at it like a puppy.

One taste, and Teddy's whole face scrunched up — it was awful.

Patrick teased him and tried to give him more, but Teddy shook his head back and forth, absolutely refusing.

Patrick smiled with pure fatherly affection: "You little rascal, smarter than you look."

That afternoon, Patrick napped in the bedroom while Vera carried Teddy out so as not to disturb him.

Nandi had marked all the key points highlighted by the instructor, took photos, and sent them to Vera. She sat in the living room with Teddy standing beside her, working through the practice papers.

Noah had gotten home and fallen straight asleep on the couch, while Warren lay stretched out on another one.

Marigold was back at the station conducting an interrogation. The suspect, Erik, grew agitated: "Someone set me up — it had to be Randall!"

Marigold caught the familiar name — that guy from the party today?

"Which Randall?"

Erik was frantic: "He said he was Patrick's nephew, that his dad is some official — he set me up on purpose!"

Hearing the name "Patrick," every member of the Ernest team felt their heart drop, and more than one instinctively wondered whether Mrs. Olteran and Molly had anything to do with this one.

Inside the interrogation room, Marigold calmly closed her folder: "Your wife was the one who reported you."

"No! Officer, you have to verify that! My wife wants a divorce — she did this to hurt me. Her and Randall, they're working together against me!"

Marigold said firmly: "Tell me everything that happened, from the beginning."

Walking out of the interrogation room, Marigold looked at a missed call from Scott on her phone and hesitated.

Ernest came up beside her: "What are you spacing out for?"

Marigold glanced at her computer, then called Scott back.

After a few rings, he picked up, clearly drunk: "Hey, Marigold."

"Nothing urgent. I just wanted to ask — what's your nephew Randall's number? I've got a case where a suspect mentioned his name," Marigold said.

Ernest standing nearby was surprised — Randall had come to the station several times before, and his number had long been in the system. Why ask someone else?

Scott, still foggy, recited a string of digits, which Marigold didn't bother to memorize.

Scott had also drunk quite a bit today and had a pounding headache. He asked, "Marigold, anything else?"

"Oh, that's all. Thanks for the help." Marigold didn't hang up right away, then added, "Tell me your hotel room number too — I'll come take care of you when I'm done."

The last of Scott's drunkenness vanished the moment he heard that. He jolted upright in bed: "Haoting Apartments, room V3."

"Got it." Marigold hung up coolly.

Then she sat back down at her desk and pulled up Randall's number from the system.

And called.

Ernest felt like something had clicked. He turned to go find the forensic officer for a chat: "Looks like Marigold might be moving out of the staff dorms. Her and that Nangong guy — I think something's going on there."

The forensic officer was eating chips and asked Ernest: "You know why Sebastian is the team captain and you're still just Mr. Chase?"

"Why?"

"Because Mr. Chase minds his own business."