Guinevere smiled brightly as she looked at Weston and then at Zack. “Really?” she asked with a hint of excitement in her voice. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t mentioned it! Do they really look alike?”
“Of course they do!” the nanny replied eagerly, nodding several times. “They’re father and son, after all!”
Guinevere’s joy was evident, her smile wide as she beamed at the two of them.
Meanwhile, Wendy, who had been watching closely, suddenly spoke up, her tone sharp and matter-of-fact. “No,” she said, her voice cutting through the room. “I don’t think he looks much like Weston. He looks more like his grandfather!”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Everyone froze, and the tension in the air was palpable. Wendy, seemingly unaware of the weight of her words, continued to playfully poke at Zack’s eyebrows.
“Look at these thick eyebrows,” she said, smiling at her grandson. “And these dark eyes! You look just like Grandpa, don’t you, darling?”
Weston’s expression darkened. His mouth pressed into a tight line as he remained silent. His gaze turned colder, more piercing than ever. It wasn’t focused on Zack, nor on Guinevere, but instead on his mother. He studied her face closely, searching for any sign of abnormality. Yet she seemed completely unfazed, acting just like any other grandmother, doting on her grandson with a warmth that made her appear entirely innocent.
It was a rare occasion where the whole family was together, though Chris had come home late. Still, as the head of the family, he had to play his role. After dinner, the women crowded around Zack, fawning over him and playing with him. Weston exchanged a glance with his father, and Chris immediately understood. The two quietly slipped out of the house, heading towards a private corner of the garden.
Chris broke the silence first. “You’ve been doing very well at work lately,” he said, clearly trying to make small talk. “The directors at the company have been singing your praises. They say the last project was a huge success, practically wiping out our competitors. How did you manage to convince them to buy that piece of land?”
Weston rubbed his temples, clearly irritated. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about work,” he replied, cutting his father off.
Chris’ expression shifted, and he frowned. “What is it, then? Did something happen?”
Weston looked directly into his father’s eyes, his voice steady but tense. “Are you sure Mom has no idea about that matter?”
Chris blinked, momentarily confused. Then, realization dawned. His face paled as he understood what Weston was referring to. “I’ve told you a thousand times,” he said, his voice rising with panic. “Your mother must never know about this! She will never be able to handle the blow!”
Weston’s voice turned mocking as he interrupted his father. “Today, she said that Zack looks a lot like his Grandpa.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. The tension between the two men was palpable, and Chris looked horrified, as if he had just swallowed something unpleasant.
Weston’s gaze hardened. “You’d better make sure Mom doesn’t find out about this,” he added, his voice cold. “Otherwise…” He left the threat unfinished, confident that his father understood exactly what he meant.
He turned to walk back inside, but Chris called out to him.
“You’ve really been through a wringer because of this,” Chris said, his voice tinged with regret. Weston didn’t respond. His mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the pain still lingering in his chest.
Chris continued, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. “But no matter what, Zack is still a member of the Ford family,” he said. “You should hurry and marry Guinevere. Soon, you’ll have your own child with her…”
Weston stopped, his words cutting through the air. “She can’t have more than one child because of her medical condition,” he said bluntly, his tone final. “You should have known that. You wouldn’t have begged me to marry her otherwise.”
Chris shifted uncomfortably, knowing Weston was right. Guinevere could only have one child, which meant the Cohen family wouldn’t be satisfied if she didn’t marry Weston and give them a legitimate heir.
With a final glance at his father, Weston turned and left, not in the mood to deal with his father’s discomfort. But as he walked away, his mind drifted back to someone else—someone who could only have one child.
He remembered how Stella had begged him, tears in her eyes, to let her keep their child. The memory of her, of the accident, still haunted him. He closed his eyes, but the image of her falling from the building flashed in his mind once again. It was a pain that seemed to stab at his heart every time he thought of it.
Weston stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat. The pain was so sharp, it was as though someone had just thrust a knife through him.
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