CHAPTER 11: CHAPTER 11: IT MIGHT BE HIS CHILD

Rachel spoke while constantly observing Declan’s reaction.

He didn’t even look up, saying indifferently, "Leave."

As if unwilling to talk too much about matters related to Poppy.

Rachel was somewhat puzzled; did Declan not know Poppy was also at the company?

But Declan’s face looked unpleasant, so she didn’t dare to ask further. Rachel whispered, "Then I’ll wait for you to get off work together. Auntie said to."

Declan replied with a casual hum, not refusing again.

After Rachel left, Declan stared at the report on the screen with deep concentration; every word in the all-English report he knew, but when pieced together, none seemed to enter his mind.

Poppy said she didn’t know he was here?

Why didn’t she just say she didn’t recognize him?

Declan irritably tugged at his tie, giving himself some breathing room.

From childhood, he was proud, a favored one; Old Master Hawthorne’s sons were all disappointing, and just when it seemed the Hawthorne Group was going to decline, Mr. Hawthorne had Declan.

He was born a genius, getting whatever he desired since young.

During college, he did part-time work, also as a way for the old master to silence other family members and pave his path.

Declan indeed did not disappoint.

Upon graduation, he took control of the Hawthorne Group, disregarding the troubles and criticisms from the old cronies.

Except for these past three years, during moments of midnight dreams, he often dreamed of a woman called Poppy Hale.

Her smile was radiant as a flower, bright and charming; during their school romance, she was attentive in all aspects, careful in everything, gradually invoking different feelings in Declan.

However, she broke up with him suddenly and discarded him after use, even seamlessly transitioning to marriage and childbirth.

Declan lit a cigarette.

Smoke curled around his fingertips, the nicotine’s bitterness added a foggy hue to the depths of Declan’s eyes.

Poppy appeared to care a lot about her useless husband.

Caring to the extent of wanting a clean break from him.

Feeling a subtle displeasure rise, Declan took out his phone and dialed Mason Rivers.

Mason soon picked up, the background sounded noisy, with soft and coy women’s voices swirling around the receiver.

"Declan, what’s up?"

"During college, was Poppy already with her current husband?"

Mason had just drunk quite a bit of wheat juice, and his mind was stuck, blurting out words without much thought.

"Definitely, otherwise how could she have had such a grown daughter right after breaking up with you! I’ve seen her daughter’s picture, cute, but not in good health."

"The way Poppy conceals her husband, he might be as frail as Lin Daiyu, stumbling after a few steps!"

"Declan, you might not know, the child’s poor health could be because Poppy wasn’t well cared for during pregnancy, or it’s due to the father’s poor health."

Declan’s face sank.

He quickly hung up the phone.

On the other end, Mason was still calling out "Hello, hello", only realizing moments later that he might have said something wrong, but with the call of a nearby young model, he tossed the thought aside and went to enjoy himself.

Completely forgetting what he had just said.

Declan, however, found the age of Poppy’s daughter somewhat peculiar.

They broke up in March.

At that time, for his birthday, Poppy even booked an expensive couple’s hotel.

Once Declan entered, he carefully checked all the surveillance, ensured safety, and didn’t hold back anything.

Poppy complied with all his demands, even taking the initiative, making Declan often dream of that day.

Usually dreaming of that time, he would have to change the sheets in the morning.

Declan took out his phone, checked the pregnancy dates and the approximate due dates.

If her daughter was born in December or January of the following year... it was possible that Poppy’s child might be his.

Thinking of this, Declan extinguished the cigarette in his hand, picked up the blazer on the chair, and walked out the door, dialing Heather Underwood, "I’m going to pick up Iris Quill, you don’t need to go."

"Ah?"

Heather was confused on the other end.

Could it be that Declan had developed feelings for Iris after picking her up once?

Unfortunately, the little chubby always trembles at the sight of Declan, but thinking of her mother-in-law’s spoiling of Iris at home, more interactions between Declan and Iris could only be beneficial.

Heather showed interest, "Are you really considering having kids? Declan, if you like children, you might as well have one yourself."

Declan directly replied, "I’m hanging up."

He hung up the phone and headed for the elevator, leaving work just like that.

Morgan Sloan looked at the lights going out in the CEO’s office with surprise, "President Hawthorne is leaving so early today? Just like that?"

Beside him, Rachel was touching up her makeup, hearing this, the powder compact in her hand fell to the ground, smashing to pieces.

-

Drove to the kindergarten.

Declan’s Wrangler parked by the roadside, his long legs stepping down from the car, clad in a suit that rendered him elegantly aloof, his demeanor cold and hard, combined with his unsmiling face and perfect physique, causing many kindergarten teachers to swoon.

He had been accustomed to being the focus wherever he went from an early age.

Striding into the yard, he found Iris standing by the swing, pushing Florence.

At the sight of Declan, Iris’ face soured, "Uncle."

She didn’t dare ask why it was Declan picking her up again, standing obediently to the side, trembling with fear.

"Hmm."

Declan wanted to pat Iris’s head, but upon finding the little chubby’s head covered in sweat and dust, he withdrew his hand, turned it in a circle in the air before placing it gently on Florence’s tidy head.

Florence’s bright eyes, her small face still carrying a sickly pallor, and the moment she looked up at Declan, the resemblance to Poppy was uncanny.

Declan squatted down and said, "Little friend, when is your birthday?"

Florence didn’t understand why this very handsome uncle was asking, but she honestly replied, "May."

May?

Calculating the dates, by then he and Poppy had been broken up for nearly half a year.

Despite it being midsummer, a gust of wind brought cold sweat to Declan.

He should have known, Poppy’s abrupt breakup with him without warning was because she had found someone else.

Florence observing his cold expression blinked and asked, "Uncle, do you know my mom? Once when mom was drowsy, she said Florence was born in the very cold winter!"

Winter?

May is certainly not in winter.

But if it was December and January, it would indeed be winter.

Did Florence accidentally mishear the season, or did Poppy intentionally say the wrong month?

Declan’s heart skipped a beat.

He retracted his hand, squatting down to face Florence directly, his voice hoarse, "I know, uncle was your mom’s classmate in school. Little friend, where’s your dad?"

Florence thought about what her mother usually said to her.

No matter who asked about her dad, she should always say that dad was unwell, lying at home.

Even if the household consisted only of her, mom, and grandma, she couldn’t tell the truth.

Otherwise, they would look down on mom, bully her and Florence.

Florence answered as Poppy had taught her.

"Dad’s at home."