CHAPTER 53: CHAPTER 53: THE MALE HOMEWRECKER

Declan Hawthorne looked at her.

He didn’t miss a single change in her facial expression.

Unfortunately, he didn’t find any clues.

Poppy Hale appeared calm, "I don’t know, I’ve never met Florence’s grandmother either."

"Never met?"

Even if the marriage was short, it shouldn’t be that you haven’t met the other’s parents.

Poppy Hale picked up a mille-feuille bun and peeled it off layer by layer to eat.

She used the act of eating to disguise her expression.

And her trembling hands.

Fortunately, for the past two years, she’d heard that question countless times, not just from neighbors, and she’d rehearsed the answers several times in advance.

She was adept at handling it.

But facing Declan Hawthorne made her a little flustered.

"Yes, you’ve met Florence’s father, he doesn’t like me. Having a child was an accident, he doesn’t know I had a child, and I don’t need him to be responsible for my daughter."

The large dining room only had the two of them.

Declan Hawthorne had barely eaten a few bites, and after hearing her words, he put down his chopsticks completely.

"He doesn’t know you got pregnant and gave birth?"

He heard his own voice echoing within his chest.

Poppy Hale’s eyelids raised gently, she met Declan Hawthorne’s deep gem-like eyes and smiled at him.

"He doesn’t know. Didn’t I say, I love Florence’s dad. I wanted to have a child for him, President Hawthorne might not understand a woman wanting to use a child to keep her husband’s heart right?"

Poppy Hale shyly tucked her hair behind her ear, her long lashes fluttering.

"Saying all this probably made President Hawthorne laugh."

Probably because of the cup of iced milk mixed with coffee that she had drunk, on an empty stomach, her stomach churned.

He once thought he understood Poppy Hale.

But at this moment.

She sat less than half a meter away, smiling like a flower, with tiny sparkling stars in her eyes.

Talking frankly about another man.

He heard himself ask, "Don’t you regret it? Even now, you don’t regret it?"

He didn’t love her, even abused her, but she was still willing to have his child?

He knew the question he was asking, wondering what he expected.

Maybe she regrets it, but she had no outlet to express it.

Poppy Hale shook her head.

"No regrets."

It was as if she was talking about something unrelated to herself, or as though she was seeing someone else through Declan Hawthorne, using some trivial reasons to speak her inner truth.

"At least now, my child belongs only to me. Even if one day I’m estranged from the child’s father, become strangers, or grow to dislike each other, it’s okay."

"I have Florence."

Poppy Hale spoke earnestly.

She looked at Declan Hawthorne.

The man before her had shed his former youthful awkwardness, and his every move exuded a mature grace and the demeanor of an upper-class young gentleman.

Perhaps this was just one of Declan Hawthorne’s many properties.

It became his temporary place to stay just because it was close to the company.

A rough estimate put it at around 300 square meters.

The house she and Mrs. Hale lived in was only about 60 square meters.

Between them wasn’t just the 200 square meter difference.

The phone flashed, Florence called in.

Poppy Hale didn’t avoid it, she said sorry and answered the phone.

"Mom, why aren’t you at home?"

"Mommy’s working overtime, Florence, have dinner with grandma and then go to kindergarten, okay? I’ll pick you up in the evening."

"Okay, I’ll be good, don’t work too hard, love you, kisses."

Florence held Mrs. Hale’s phone, smooching several times, sticky and sweet.

When Poppy Hale talked to Florence, her voice was also sticky, and the mother and daughter kissed over the phone for a while before Mrs. Hale took the phone.

"Don’t tire yourself out. If you keep doing this every day, I won’t have the surgery."

Mrs. Hale was worried that her illness was holding back Poppy Hale.

Making it so she couldn’t go home even at night, still needing to work overtime.

She also complained about Poppy Hale’s boss.

"Was it that young man from last time making you work overtime at this hour? Oh dear, such a hassle. Seemed like a good person, why doesn’t he do the right thing?"

Poppy Hale listened, somewhat guilty.

After all, she came to his home and accidentally fell asleep there.

She covered the receiver with her hand, said a few words casually, and hung up the phone.

Having seen she was done eating, Declan Hawthorne stood up.

"Let’s go, to work."

"President Hawthorne..."

Poppy Hale hesitated, her eyes flickering.

Morgan Sloan was still standing downstairs.

If Poppy Hale followed him down, she would most likely run into Morgan Sloan.

"How about I wait a few minutes before going down?"

Declan Hawthorne glanced at her humorously.

He didn’t expose her thoughts.

She thought Morgan Sloan really couldn’t recognize her?

Not to mention working together for a few years, Poppy Hale still used a perfume few others used, Morgan Sloan—the cunning guy—might not have thought about it immediately, but by now, he probably already realized.

Declan Hawthorne said nothing.

"Sure, wait five minutes before you head downstairs."

Poppy Hale patted her chest.

"Thank you, President Hawthorne."

Seeing her relieved expression, Declan Hawthorne turned on his heel and left first.

Downstairs, he got into the car.

Morgan Sloan glanced back, probing, "President Hawthorne, isn’t Young Hale going to the office?"

After he left, Morgan Sloan indeed thought for a long time.

He kept feeling that the woman in Declan Hawthorne’s arms looked familiar, very familiar.

Recalling the long curly hair, love of wearing fitted dresses, the pair of white high heels at the door, and the bag on the sofa.

Morgan Sloan felt like his heart was being pounded with thunder.

President Hawthorne and Young Hale actually got together?

But doesn’t Young Hale have a husband and child?

The more Morgan Sloan thought about it, the more he felt, as the Chief Eunuch, he should seek a clear message from the Emperor.

To see what Declan Hawthorne’s attitude really was.

If it’s just for fun, and Young Hale agrees, then it’s an adult’s game.

He couldn’t interfere.

If it’s serious...

Impossible, what about Young Hale’s husband?

Morgan Sloan also didn’t dare voice these thoughts.

He couldn’t directly ask President Hawthorne if he planned to be the male paramour.

That would be too... intense.

Declan Hawthorne glanced at the report in the car, casually flipping through it, "She’s taking the subway."

Morgan Sloan was stunned.

This isn’t right, Young Hale was at President Hawthorne’s house last night?

Her morning clothes weren’t the same as yesterday’s.

So, did Young Hale have a change of clothes at President Hawthorne’s house?

"So, you two...?"

Declan Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, looking over. "What do you want to ask?"

Seeing this, Morgan Sloan bravely opened his mouth, "Why not have Young Hale go to the office together, it’s crowded on the subway at this time."

Declan Hawthorne’s residence was in a famed bustling area of Arvum, and although the subway station was at the community entrance, it was also the famous death line number one.

At the entrance of the subway station, people had to queue for controlled entry.

Waiting half an hour to even enter the subway station.

Taking breakfast onto the subway, the boiled eggs would turn into egg pancakes.

Declan Hawthorne pulled out his phone, dialing Poppy Hale’s number.

"Come down, get in the car. Otherwise, I’ll dock your pay."

Finishing, he hung up the phone.

Morgan Sloan opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but held back.

President Hawthorne’s attitude didn’t seem to indicate any opinion about Young Hale.

But seeing Young Hale’s look that morning, it clearly wasn’t innocent.

A few minutes later, Poppy Hale got in the car from the rear.

Sitting next to Declan Hawthorne.

The atmosphere between them was somewhat awkward.