Chapter 35 Dinner at Their House
Chapter 35 Dinner at Their House
Flint stood by the car, his stance stiff, clearly waiting for them.
Jessica inhaled deeply, steeling herself, then reached for Arthur’s hand. Together, they walked toward the
car.
“Mrs. Hensley, Mr. Arthur, please get in,” Flint said, his voice polite as he opened the door with a swift motion.
The formality of his words struck Jessica like a wave crashing over her. She still couldn’t fully grasp it—she was married to Charles. Just a few days ago, they had been nothing more than boss and employee.
After she signed the marriage agreement, Charles had someone collect her ID. Soon after, their marriage license had arrived.
No face-to-face meeting. No need for any of that. It was all just for the child, she thought.
Arthur, ever the blunt one, didn’t pause. He jumped into the car with an eagerness that made Jessica smile. “Mommy, hurry up and get in!”
Snapping out of her thoughts, Jessica quickly followed, pushing away the swirling confusion in her mind.
Charles was already inside. As soon as they settled in, he signaled for the driver to begin.
Jessica glanced at him. The air between them felt charged, an odd tension filling the space.
Arthur, however, seemed unfazed. He locked his gaze on Charles, eyes wide with curiosity. “Mommy said you’re my dad?”
Charles gave a small nod. “Yep.”
Arthur didn’t hesitate. “Does that mean you’re going to take us home and take care of us?”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”
Arthur, never one to hold back, pressed on, “Are you going to marry Mommy?”
Charles turned to Jessica, his surprise evident. She didn’t tell him?
He gave a slight smile. “Your mom and I are already married.”
Jessica hadn’t expected so many questions from Arthur. She quickly turned his face toward her. “Sit still and stop asking so much.”
Arthur huffed, a touch of seriousness in his voice. “Mommy, I’m just making sure you’re happy. If he won’t take care of you, then he’s a jerk, and I’m not calling him my dad!”
Jessica’s heart swelled. She had always known how much Arthur cared for her.
Charles, amused, raised an eyebrow. “So, does that mean I have to throw a huge wedding to be responsible for your mom?”
Arthur, never missing a beat, responded with total sincerity, “That’s a must!”
Jessica quickly cut in. “Don’t listen to him. We don’t need a wedding.”
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To her surprise, Charles considered it with an almost serious demeanor. “Well, if everything’s fine, a wedding wouldn’t hurt.”
Jessica’s head began to throb. It was a fake marriage, after all. Did he really have to take this so seriously?
As the sun dipped lower, casting golden hues over the sky, the Maybach glided into the grand Hensley
estate.
The car glided to a halt in front of an elaborate fountain, its waters shimmering in the fading light. Through the tinted window, Jessica noticed a small group of servants standing by the entrance, awaiting their arrival.
Her nerves, which had subsided for a moment, flared back to life.
Charles and Arthur had already stepped out of the car. The two of them stood together by the door, waiting for her.
Taking a deep breath, Jessica braced herself and swung the door open. Then, something struck her. “Wait, it wouldn’t be right for us to show up empty-handed, would it?” She suddenly realized that she should have brought a gift.
Charles gave her a quick glance, understanding the unease that had crept over her. “You bringing Arthur is enough.
“We’re going in,” he added, turning toward Arthur.
Jessica watched him walk ahead, his confident stride betraying no sign of hesitation. She stuck her tongue out behind his back and followed him.
Inside, the butler and other servants greeted them with formal politeness. The living room was grand, and there, sitting in the center, was Dom, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rosary beads in his hand.
“Dad, we’re back,” Charles announced, leading Jessica and Arthur to stand before the imposing figure of his father.
Dom slowly raised his eyes, his sharp gaze cutting through the air. “Why did you bring her here?”
“Dad,” Charles responded, his tone unruffled, “I’d like to officially introduce her. This is my wife, Jessica. And this is my son, Arthur.”
Dom’s eyes flickered with surprise. “So she’s the one you said you were bringing home?”
He had already heard of Jessica from Jane, who painted her in the worst light: a manipulative, promiscuous woman who had ensnared his son.
Now, seeing her with a child in tow, Dom’s fury began to boil.
Charles’s composure remained intact. “Yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady.
Dom’s face reddened with anger. “Ridiculous! You married this woman? And she brings that child with her?”
Jessica gripped Arthur’s hand tighter. She had anticipated this moment, which was why her nerves had never fully calmed.
She shot a glance at Charles. Perhaps by tomorrow, they’d be signing divorce papers.
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The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Dom’s fury lingered in the air like a storm cloud. The servants, standing at the periphery, held their breath, too afraid to even move.
Charles furrowed his brow, about to speak, but before he could, a small, bold voice cut through the tension. “Grandpa, you can’t talk about my mommy like that! She’s a good woman!”
Dom, already furious, couldn’t believe his ears. A child-his grandchild-rebuking him? The nerve!
“Who are you calling Grandpa, brat?” Dom sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
Arthur puffed out his chest proudly. “If you don’t want me to call you that, I won’t. I already have a dad, and that’s enough for me.”
“Your dad?” Dom shot a frosty glare at Charles. Was this boy really Charles’s son? He could hardly believe it.
Charles met his father’s gaze without flinching, his expression resolute. “Dad, Arthur is my son. With Jessica.”
Dom’s eyes widened slightly, but his mind seemed to struggle with the reality of the situation. For a long moment, he stayed silent, his glare unyielding.
“What did you say?” Dom finally demanded, his voice stiff.
“Five years ago, I slept with Jessica. She had my child. Arthur is your biological grandson.” The words hung in the air like a declaration, a fact that could no longer be denied.
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Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She’s also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.