Chapter 209: Dumbfounded
Sophie Shaw was confused. "Why did we come here?"
"To show you the truth."
Alaric Blackwood parked the car in a temporary spot across from the Western-style house.
He was driving Evan Ford’s black Cullinan. It was much more low-key than his red supercar.
In the upscale residential area, the Cullinan sat quietly by the roadside like a slumbering beast, not drawing too much attention.
After sitting in the car for over half an hour, Sophie Shaw’s patience was wearing thin.
She tugged on the door handle. It was locked.
"Alaric Blackwood, what on earth are you trying to do?"
"Wait."
"For what?"
"They’re coming out," Alaric Blackwood said, staring toward the house and motioning for her to look.
She followed his gaze. Through the windshield, she saw Shayla Zane pushing a boy in a toy car, a large dog walking beside them.
The boy looked to be three or four years old. He had dark skin and was clearly not of Asian descent. He wore a bright blue padded jacket and sat in the toy car, his small dark hands gripping the steering wheel. A large dog was harnessed to the front, pulling him along, and the boy was having the time of his life.
"Max, slow down! Don’t let Daniel fall!"
Shayla Zane chased after the toy car, shouting at the boy and the dog to be careful.
Sophie Shaw stared at the little dark-skinned boy in the car, utterly gobsmacked.
Seeing her stunned expression, Alaric Blackwood unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward her.
He draped an arm over the back of her seat, his lips almost brushing her ear as he murmured, "See clearly now?"
"..."
"Shayla Zane and I, two Chinese people. Can we have a dark-skinned, mixed-race child?"
Sophie Shaw pressed her lips together tightly. "..."
"I told you we didn’t need a paternity test. Daniel isn’t my son. Do you believe me now?"
"...I do."
"I told you my first time was with you. Do you believe me?"
Sophie Shaw didn’t answer.
’Actually, she wasn’t sure.’
On their wedding night, she had been under the influence of drugs, her consciousness hazy.
Seeing her silence, Alaric Blackwood suppressed a surge of anger, started the car, and drove away.
...
That Saturday, everyone was busy.
Anne was busy with blind dates at a café. She had already met two that morning, with two more scheduled for the afternoon.
She was nearly finished with her cup of coffee when the first date of the afternoon finally arrived.
The man was late, and he apologized as soon as they met.
"I’m so sorry, something held me up. You haven’t been waiting long, have you?"
He was quite tall and wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, with a very gentle, scholarly appearance. His profile said he was a middle school history teacher.
Anne waved her hand. "No, I just got here a little while ago."
The man sat down across from her, adjusted the glasses on his nose, called over a waiter, and ordered a drink.
"Miss Austin, your profile says you graduated from high school?"
’Trust a teacher to focus on that. He went straight for her education, right out of the gate.’
Anne nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I graduated from high school."
"And your occupation is a makeup artist and assistant for a celebrity?"
"Yes."
The man didn’t seem interested in which celebrity she worked for and continued his questioning. "Why didn’t you go to college? Did you not get in, or...?"
"I got in, but my family’s financial situation didn’t allow for it, so I didn’t go. I studied makeup for a year and then started working full-time."
"You also have a younger brother?"
"I do."
"What’s his education level?"
"He just graduated from college."
"What was his major?"
"Physical Education."
"That’s a tough major for finding a job."
The man muttered, then asked, "And your parents have passed away?"
"Yes."
"So it’s just you and your brother?"
"There’s also an uncle we’re not really in contact with."
"I see."
The man didn’t say a single thing about himself, just kept asking questions. The more he asked, the more insecure Anne felt, and she lost any desire to ask him anything in return. After a short while, the date was over.
The man left without a moment’s hesitation, though he did flash her a phony smile before he went. "Miss Austin, I’ll be in touch."
’Be in touch, my ass,’ she thought.
He was clearly unsatisfied with her personal situation; it was just a polite way of brushing her off.
About ten minutes later, she met the second one.
Her second date was a flamboyant man, dressed very fashionably. His hair was dyed a hazy blue, and he had tattoos on one side of his neck and his fingers, giving him a sketchy vibe.
He looked completely different from his dating profile picture.
The Monarch chewed gum the entire time they talked, smacking his lips and giving her a headache.
"Your face is okay. As for your body..."
The Monarch squinted as he sized her up, his gaze insolent. "Stand up. Spin around and let me get a good look."
Anne didn’t comply. "We can end this now."
"?"
The Monarch hadn’t been very interested in her to begin with, but her preemptive rejection piqued his curiosity. "Got a temper, huh? You dare refuse me? By the way, how tall are you?"
"Five-three."
Anne’s tone was growing impatient.
When the Monarch heard she was five-three, he clicked his tongue. "A bit short."
"How tall are you?"
"Five-eleven. Tall enough, right? The height difference between us is a bit much. They say a short mother makes for a short litter."
Anne gritted her teeth.
The Monarch stared at her for a moment before gesturing again for her to stand and spin. "Let ol’ grandpa here see how slim your waist is and how big your ass is."
"..."
"My mom always says a big butt means you’re good for bearing children."
SPLASH—
Anne’s temper flared. She grabbed the coffee from the table and threw it all in the Monarch’s face.
"What the fuck!"
"My limited-edition outfit!"
The Monarch yelped and shot up from the sofa. He snatched the napkins from the table and, while dabbing at the coffee stains on his clothes, started yelling at her. "What is wrong with you? You have no class!"
"If it’s not working out, we can just call it quits! How could you throw coffee on me?"
"You little shorty that nobody wants! Your outfit is so tacky... and you dared to stain my limited-edition clothes..."
The Monarch was still snarling and cursing when—SLAP! SLAP!—two heavy slaps struck him across the face, leaving him completely stunned.
Anne was stunned, too.
’She hadn’t been the one to hit him.’
Although she had desperately wanted to, she figured she probably couldn’t win a fight and had been about to just grab her bag and leave. She never expected a tall figure to walk over without a word, grab the Monarch by his blue hair, and land two crisp slaps across his face.
The Monarch snapped out of his daze and glared at the man who had suddenly appeared, his eyes burning with rage. "Who the hell are you?"
Evan Ford’s face was cold. "A passerby."
"A passerby? Why the fuck did you hit me? Did I do something to you?"
"You’re ruining my mood to enjoy my coffee."
He had found the man’s disrespectful comments toward women incredibly irritating to listen to.
He had arrived at the café at two in the afternoon, set up on a blind date by the old madam, but his date had never shown up.
The spot where he was sitting had his back to Anne. The back of a sofa and a large pillar stood between them, so neither could see the other.
However, once Anne’s blind date started, he recognized her voice and had been listening to her conversations in silence.
But the more he listened to her conversations with the two dates, the more annoyed and angry he became. In the end, he couldn’t hold back any longer and walked over to deliver two ’loving’ slaps to the Monarch.