Hearing the voice, Jonathan Shaw hid the triumphant slyness in his eyes. He rubbed his eyes, looking perfectly innocent. "What’s wrong, Daddy?"
Cyrus Ford’s eyes were as dark as ink. He observed the sleepy-eyed Jonathan, his tone rising slightly, carrying a deeply hidden chill. "Did you wet the bed?"
Innocence was written all over Jonathan’s little face. He retorted righteously, "No, how is that possible? It’s completely dry under my butt!"
"Then what is this about?" Cyrus glanced around the room. His indifferent tone sounded as if he had seen through everything.
Jonathan deliberately followed Cyrus’s gaze. As the instigator, he was actually quite pleased with his masterpiece. "The result isn’t bad at all!" he thought. A gleam flashed in his eyes. Feeling a certain someone’s murderous glare, he became even more determined not to confess. So, he shook his head, pretending to suddenly realize what was going on. "What! Daddy, you’re an adult. Even if you wet the bed, you can’t blame it on me!"
Cyrus narrowed his eyes slightly. A freezing chill instantly filled the room, and a dangerous aura gradually enveloped the little guy. Before Jonathan even had time to secretly gloat, he suddenly felt a coldness at the back of his neck. Cyrus picked him up by the collar like a little chick.
Jonathan felt indignant and wanted to scream and struggle, but he caught sight of Cyrus’s stern, sharp, and utterly intimidating expression. Always good at reading the room, Jonathan immediately wilted. He allowed Cyrus to push the door open and toss him out.
With a loud THUD, Jonathan landed perfectly on the floor. He rubbed his butt. The fall hadn’t actually hurt, but he deliberately let out two sobs, his eyes instantly turning red.
Not far down the hallway.
Zoe Shaw had been looking around all along, searching for traces of Jonathan. Hearing the commotion in the corridor, she decisively approached, only to see Jonathan sitting by the bedroom door with an accusatory expression. "Great," she thought. "He actually messed up so badly that he got thrown out." Zoe lightly massaged her forehead. Her butterfly-like eyelashes fluttered gently, rendering her momentarily speechless.
Based on her understanding of Jonathan’s little devil-like temperament, Zoe had no idea what kind of "good deed" he had done to be treated this way. But it was fine; she would just consider it as Jonathan helping her vent her anger. Tormenting Cyrus a little wasn’t a bad thing. Thinking of this, Zoe pondered for a moment. She guessed it was impossible to successfully take Jonathan away today. This matter required a long-term plan. However, tonight wasn’t completely fruitless. At the very least, she had confirmed Jonathan’s situation.
"Time to slip away!" she thought. Zoe scanned her surroundings. Before anyone could spot her, she walked away with quick, elegant steps.
Unaware of his mommy’s presence, Jonathan puckered his lips. He tactically cleared his throat first before bursting into a loud, dramatic wail. "WAAAH! This is so unfair! An adult wets the bed and actually blames it on a kid! And he won’t even let me go inside to sleep! WAAAAH!"
In the quiet villa, Jonathan’s howling from upstairs echoed through the air. Cyrus’s brow twitched. Forced to endure it, he walked out and coldly commanded, "Shut up." Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping(.)com.
Jonathan had been crying and howling for a while now, but it was all wails and no tears. It wasn’t until he saw Cyrus’s face, which was as dark as the night sky, that he forcefully squeezed out two actual tears. "WAAAH! Daddy, it’s too dark out here. I’m so scared..." Jonathan tried to play the victim to win some sympathy.
Beyond annoyed, Cyrus picked him up with one hand again and brought him back inside. "Sleep on the sofa," he said, his tone laced with a hint of warning.
Jonathan couldn’t believe it. "Is this scumbag daddy really so cold-blooded?!" he thought. He puckered his lips again, and his sharp, childish voice instantly pierced Cyrus’s eardrums. "WAAAH! WAAAAAH!"
"I’ll sleep on it." Cyrus kept his face taut and unceremoniously tossed the boy onto the bed.
If the butler had been there, he would have definitely scooped Jonathan up and laughed out loud. This kid was exactly like Cyrus when he was little!
Hearing this, Jonathan rolled around on the bed. His small body sank slightly into the mattress as he satisfyingly snuggled into the soft blankets. "So comfortable!" he thought. "There’s no way I’m sleeping on any sofa!"
Just as Jonathan decided to let Cyrus off the hook and get a good night’s sleep, the door was abruptly pushed open.
Claire Lockwood stood there in a silk nightgown. Her originally seductive figure, however, was marred by a bizarre color difference between her neck and her heavily powdered face. Feeling anxious, she approached Cyrus with a delicate, boneless grace. "Cyrus, I simmered some chicken soup for you. But I just heard a child’s voice in your room. I couldn’t have misheard, could I?"
Suddenly, Claire’s footsteps halted. Her eyes were fixed on Jonathan, who was lying on the bed. Her hands unconsciously tightened their grip on the soup tray. "It’s actually true!" she thought. "There really is a child in Cyrus’s room who looks exactly like him, just as the maid said!"
She bit her red lip, seemingly finding it hard to believe. Her body swayed unsteadily, on the verge of collapsing. "No," she told herself. "I can’t give up on Cyrus so easily. I absolutely will not burn bridges over such a trivial matter."
Claire took a deep breath, quickly snapping out of her anger. Keeping her smile intact, she asked, "Cyrus, where did this child come from? He looks so much like you. Is he your little brother?"
Seeing that Claire’s twisted body was about to press against his scumbag daddy, Jonathan scrambled up. He quickly rushed between the two of them and nonchalantly wedged them apart.
"Miss, could you bend down a little?" Jonathan asked. His eyes were innocent, making him look pure and naive.
Completely off guard, Claire squatted down. She even smiled gently, thinking her maternal glow had won over this little brat. "What’s wrong, little one?"
Jonathan reached out and wiped a hand across Claire’s face, rubbing her thick, white liquid foundation into clumps. "Miss, I’m helping you scrub the dirt off!"
His mockery struck right at her weak point. When dealing with annoying people—other than Cyrus—Jonathan’s combat power was always exceptionally strong. He was absolutely ruthless.
Claire’s face instantly dropped. "How can you be so ill-mannered!"
Jonathan’s bewildered gaze darted back and forth between the two adults before settling on Cyrus. He aggrievedly pouted his lips. "Daddy, did I do something wrong?"
Daddy?!!
Claire’s smile had never been so stiff. "What on earth did I just say..." she thought. Trying to salvage the situation, she stood up and reached out to link her arm with Cyrus’s. To her surprise, he imperceptibly took a step back, maintaining his distance from her.
"Cyrus, this child is really too impolite, which is why I..."
Cyrus lowered his eyes. "Is there anything else?"
Hearing the obvious order to leave in Cyrus’s words, a look of unwillingness flashed across Claire’s face, but she didn’t dare to go against his wishes. "Nothing else. Just remember to drink the ginseng soup. I... I’ll head back first."
Cyrus didn’t respond. He simply stared at the little guy in front of him with sharp, cold eyes. The slyness that had just flashed across that little face wasn’t fake. So, Jonathan had done that on purpose.
Claire dragged her feet as she left. Her mind was entirely focused on the fact that she had to get information out of this little brat to see who his mother was. "I have to get rid of them as soon as possible!" she thought. "No matter what, I can’t let anyone threaten my position!"