CHAPTER 12: CHAPTER 12: THAT UNCLE ASKED WHEN MY BIRTHDAY IS

Iris Quill stood beside her.

Muttered, "Your dad doesn’t come to pick you up, do you really have a dad?"

"Yes," Florence Lynch said naively, "Without a dad, how could I have been born?"

That made some sense.

Iris nodded, considering herself persuaded by Florence.

The thought that Florence didn’t have a dad was wrong; grandma was incorrect. Every kid has a dad.

It’s just that Florence’s dad is as unwell as Florence.

Declan Hawthorne stood up, lifted his eyes, and saw Poppy Hale just entering the park.

She was carrying the bags Amber Yates had brought in the elevator, clearly filled with clothes that Amber’s daughter no longer wanted, brought for Florence.

During school years, Poppy Hale’s biggest hobby was buying new clothes.

Every time she bought a new dress, she would wear it to show Declan.

Some dresses were too short, too transparent, too thin, exposing too much skin, and would meet a different fate. Declan loved to rip open those fabrics, seeing Poppy’s embarrassed yet cooperative look.

But now, the gray dress she wore was also an online purchase from her university days.

The dress was far more worn, stretched out, and misshapen compared to the past, something Poppy would have discarded with disdain.

Her long hair was casually draped behind her, with pale skin marked by hair ties, so white it resembled porcelain, so striking that Declan couldn’t overlook her presence.

The downfall to such a state was probably the work of her husband.

When Poppy saw Declan, she immediately tensed, stepped back while holding Florence, and politely said, "President Hawthorne."

Afraid that Declan might detect something unusual.

Florence now was everything to Poppy, the anchor of her soul. Without Florence, neither Poppy nor Mrs. Hale could survive.

Declan nodded slightly, "I came to pick up Iris, and also to check on your daughter’s recovery. She’s very adorable."

"Thank you, President Hawthorne. Florence is doing well; the compensation was sufficient."

"If there’s anything else you need, feel free to contact me."

Poppy’s hand guarded the back of Florence’s head as she nodded, "Okay."

Just as she was about to leave with her child, Poppy heard Declan casually ask, "Does your husband not care for the child?"

Poppy was taken aback, muscles tensing, before forcing a smile, "Why would you say that? Of course, he cares, President Hawthorne. I’ll be going now."

Cradling her child, Poppy dashed away without pause.

Afraid that if she stayed before Declan for a few more minutes, she’d lose her composure.

Also afraid that Declan might confront her about the slap in the storage room that afternoon.

Thankfully, he didn’t, and Poppy felt relieved.

Florence, lying on Poppy’s shoulder and unseen by her, waved goodbye to Declan and Iris standing there.

Declan hesitated for a moment, then raised his finger to wave back at Florence.

The little girl was indeed very endearing.

Yet, the seed of doubt had been planted—Poppy, are you lying?

He intended to find out exactly when that little girl’s birthday was.

On their way home, they stopped by the market to buy two racks of ribs. Florence’s baby-like voice said, "Mom, that very handsome uncle just asked what month my birthday is."

Poppy’s hand trembled as she scanned to pay, taking several tries to hit the payment code on the meat stall, with a stiff smile on her face.

"Did he? What did Florence say?"

"Of course, it’s May, Mom. Isn’t my birthday in May?"

Of course, it wasn’t.

Florence was born in December, but to prevent anyone who knew her from picking up on this detail and causing unnecessary trouble, Poppy had always told Florence she was born in May.

Anyway, no one would check Florence’s birth report.

Due to health reasons, Florence was smaller, so no one would question her age.

Besides, Poppy’s own birthday was in May, as was Mrs. Hale’s, which made Florence happy to have everyone’s birthday together.

Declan’s inquiry about her daughter’s birthday made a faint premonition arise in Poppy’s heart.

After all, if Florence’s age matched, what Declan could think of, Poppy could too.

Thankfully, fortunately, her daughter was too young to realize her birthday should be in a different month—so Declan should have dispelled his doubts by now.

This way, he would stay away from her daughter.

Florence asked quietly, "Mom, do you not have a good relationship with that handsome uncle?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because every time you see him, you get nervous. And when you get nervous, you pinch my bum."

Every time Poppy got nervous, she couldn’t help clutching whatever she held in her hands. On several occasions when she encountered Declan, she was holding Florence.

Over time, what she clutched became the little bottom of Florence.

Poppy hurriedly apologized, "I’m sorry, Florence, did I hurt you?"

"No, but Mommy doesn’t like that uncle."

A child’s definitions are always simple and direct. Mommy smiles when she sees her and Grandma—that’s liking them.

She gets nervous when she sees the handsome uncle, which means she doesn’t like him.

Poppy felt complicated inside, "And you? Do you like that handsome uncle?"

"If Mommy doesn’t like him, then I don’t either."

Florence thought for a moment, then kissed Poppy on the cheek, affectionately saying, "I only like Mommy."

Poppy’s heart melted as she carried her daughter all the way home.

Florence added, "Mom, that handsome uncle is Iris Quill’s uncle, and I too have an uncle!"

The key Poppy inserted into the lock almost slipped, requiring several attempts to turn, but the door wouldn’t open.

"...Uncle?"

"I heard Iris Quill call him that."

Inside, Mrs. Hale, who heard the commotion, came to open the door, taking the groceries from Poppy’s hand, "Back? I’ll cook, you play with Florence for a bit."

"Let me do it, don’t tire yourself out."

Mrs. Hale put on a stern face, "I’ve been home all day, how could I be tired? Do you think I’m useless? I’ve got to be of some use!"

In her younger years, Mrs. Hale was married to Mr. Hale, a formidable woman who had started a business with her husband and achieved great success.

After her husband’s passing, family hardships, and poor health weighing down her daughter, Mrs. Hale had felt ashamed. If she did nothing, she would have felt even worse, overthinking things.

Understanding this, Poppy didn’t stop her, "Fine, don’t overwork yourself, just call me if you need anything."

"Go rest, you’ve been working all day. I can at least make a meal."

Mrs. Hale went into the kitchen, while Florence, already forgetting the earlier incident, went to play with her little toys.

Poppy’s mind kept wandering, her heartbeat quickening, palms breaking out in cold sweat.

It turned out the chubby kid wasn’t his son.

So was Rachel Rivers involved with him?

It didn’t matter; he was handsome and rich. If it wasn’t Rachel, there’d be someone else.

In any case, she and Declan would never have any connection again.

Declan’s wife.

Just thinking of that status, Poppy’s hands couldn’t hold Florence’s toy blocks steady, trembling several times before failing to fit them together.

The overhead bulb flickered noisily.

To save money, Poppy had rented a shabby little place. The landlord, now abroad, left repairs to her.

She instructed her daughter to play by herself while she went to the small balcony to find a replacement light bulb.

Her daughter was very well-behaved.

Poppy glanced back, seeing Florence grasping one little block at a time, happily playing by herself.

No cause for worry, but it stirred endless heartache in Poppy.

Amidst the clutter on the balcony, she found a bulb matching the model. While reading the instruction manual, she noticed the brand of the bulb.

Hawthorne’s Bulbs.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence, or maybe because the Hawthorne Group’s business was so extensive, inescapably showing those two words everywhere.

Having read the group’s introduction before, Poppy knew Hawthorne’s scope covered everything—big things like real estate, healthcare, and automotive, to games, and small things like soap, bulbs, and napkins, all had Hawthorne brands involved.

Poppy thought of Declan.

As the heir to Hawthorne, Declan held immense wealth, perhaps seeing money merely as numbers.

Poppy recognized Declan’s watch; one timepiece was enough to buy the entire building she lived in.

This highlighted their past affair as absurd and fleeting.

Declan wasn’t short of money; everything with her was just a young master’s fleeting game.

Her involvement with Declan had actually been an accident.