CHAPTER 65: CHAPTER 65: INTERFERING IN SOMEONE ELSE’S MARRIAGE

The two kids clamored for more crispy meat.

Declan Hawthorne stood up, grabbed two pieces, and placed one in each of their bowls.

He said naturally, "Let me know if you want anything. Let Aunt Poppy eat her meal."

Poppy Hale was momentarily stunned.

As a mother, she had grown accustomed to focusing entirely on her children during meals.

At home, she and Mrs. Hale would take turns eating.

When they went out, Poppy mainly tended to the kids, only eating a few hurried bites after they were full.

She often neglected herself.

She didn’t expect Declan Hawthorne to notice.

Poppy Hale lowered her head to eat, catching a glimpse of Declan patiently slicing meat, serving soup, and picking animal-patterned custard buns for the kids.

He gently wiped the soup from Florence Lynch’s mouth with a napkin.

He asked softly, "Do you want more?"

Florence nodded, then shook her head.

"No more, I’m full. Uncle, you eat it."

As she spoke, she picked up a small pig bun still coated with some soup from her bowl and fed it to Declan Hawthorne.

Poppy was about to stop her when she saw Declan open his mouth and eat the bun.

He was incredibly patient and even indulgent.

There was a curve at the corner of her mouth, but it felt a bit stiff.

Declan Hawthorne would surely be a great father someday.

He would have a courteous wife.

One who matched him well, walking hand in hand through life.

Poppy Hale got up to pay the bill.

The shop owner laughed warmly, "Oh, your husband already paid! You have such a good-looking family!"

The family’s attractiveness stood out like a bright landscape.

Lotsa diners in the restaurant stole glances at them.

Since the shop was across from the kindergarten, some parents of Florence and Iris Quill’s classmates were there as well.

They bumped into a table of them on their way out.

The kids jumped up to greet the two children as their parents exchanged smiles.

The gaze of the other parent lingered between Poppy Hale and Declan Hawthorne, smiling, "Florence’s mom, are you related to Iris Quill’s dad?"

Poppy Hale shook her head in denial.

"No."

The parent replied with a meaningful "Oh," nearly wearing disbelief on their face.

Iris’s dad’s eyes never left Florence’s mom.

They must have argued.

Some things only get more tangled the more you explain, so Poppy Hale just nodded in acknowledgment and left with the two kids.

After stepping outside, Poppy Hale held Florence.

"I have something to do with Florence, so we’ll go first, President Hawthorne, goodbye."

Holding her daughter, she strode into the nearby subway station.

With her head nestled on Poppy’s shoulder, Florence waved to Declan and Iris.

The little one, like an adorable doll, made everyone smile warmly.

Declan Hawthorne lifted his hand to wave goodbye.

His heart softened.

He drove back to the Hawthorne Family home.

He handed the sleeping Iris to the nanny.

Declan tossed his suit jacket aside.

Mrs. Hawthorne sniffed, "You smell like beef soup. You took Iris for a beef hotpot? I thought you said you disliked the smell of beef?"

When Declan was young, he took the Hawthorne kids to play on the estate. Justin and Tristan Hawthorne foolishly provoked a calf, shouting noisily.

Declan went to save them and got kicked by the calf.

He lay in bed for nearly half a month afterward.

Since then, the Hawthorne kids avoided beef and lamb.

Despite preparing it in different ways, Declan never wanted to eat it until today?

Declan casually loosened his tie, a nonchalant gesture, still suave.

"Others chose the place, I just paid."

Mrs. Hawthorne wasn’t concerned about what he ate.

He was grown; he wouldn’t starve himself.

"You called saying you were going on a date with a girl, and? You didn’t even bring her home for me to see!"

These past few days, Mrs. Hawthorne could think of nothing else.

As soon as she lay down, she dreamt of Declan bringing the girl home.

Saying they were getting married soon, asking Mrs. Hawthorne for a betrothal gift.

Awakening, Mrs. Hawthorne began calculating how much would be appropriate.

"Is $8,880,000 enough for a betrothal gift? Is it too meager?"

Declan rubbed his temples.

"It was just a date, not the beginning of a relationship."

Meaning, the girl had no intention of saying yes to him.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s excitement deflated.

"Can you even do this? How can you not win over a girl?"

Declan’s throat was dry, his eyes tinged with a bitter ache.

With a hoarse voice, "I missed the time when she liked me."

Mrs. Hawthorne frowned, "What do you mean ’missed’? Surely you didn’t not like her when she liked you?"

The man sat up from the sofa, picked up the glass on the dining table, and drank the water in one go.

He drank hurriedly, causing beads of water to trickle down his neck, soaking his shirt collar.

He lifted his hand to wipe his mouth.

"Let’s not talk about that. How’s my cousin?"

"The process is progressing. Your aunt plans to go back to The Western Expanse once the cooling-off period is over and the divorce is through."

Speaking of The Western Expanse, Declan smirked slightly.

Unclear whether deliberate or not, "Mom, do you think if I had a daughter, she’d look like someone from The Western Expanse?"

"Of course! If you had a son, maybe not, but daughters take after grandmothers, so she’d look like me!" Mrs. Hawthorne delightedly pulled out her phone.

"Look here, today I saw a little girl who is gorgeous, resembling a child from The Western Expanse!"

She turned on the screen, and its large senior-friendly font almost made Declan dizzy.

Mrs. Hawthorne found a post she had saved on social media.

It was by a blogger named Autumn, showing her two kids.

One was exquisitely beautiful, with lashes like fans when looking down, slightly deep browbones, and a smile remarkably similar to Mrs. Hawthorne’s own wide grin.

"The other child is also pretty, but not as much as this one. What luck she has to have such beautiful daughters."

Mrs. Hawthorne looked on, filled with envy.

Holding the phone, she enlarged Florence’s face, showing it to Declan.

"If you ever have kids, they’re likely to look like this."

Declan’s Adam’s apple moved.

The previously suppressed restlessness surged up again.

"Then let her be your granddaughter, what do you think?"

Mrs. Hawthorne thought he was joking and ignored him.

"How could that be? I see this blogger Autumn and her husband look happy together. You’re thinking of breaking up a marriage? That won’t do!"

Declan looked indifferent, but said, "She’s not hers."

"Huh?"

"I said this girl isn’t her daughter. She’s the daughter of another employee at our company."

Mrs. Hawthorne didn’t recognize Florence as Iris Quill’s classmate from the photo Heather Underwood had shown her earlier.

"But doesn’t that family have their own? Such a pity."

No pity.

Declan turned the water glass in his hand, his gaze deep, shimmering with secret intentions known only to him.

Only he knew.

He wasn’t joking.