A Mix-up Made Me His Enemy’s Woman 112
Chapter 112
Julian had just finished a meeting. It was almost 11:00 pm when he got home.
Evan’s misbehavior didn’t bother him much.
He didn’t think it was possible that Evan saw his mother. After all, he had been looking for her for three years.
As he took off his coat and hung it on the rack, he noticed a small, sneaky figure in the study. Moving quietly closer, he saw Evan rummaging through the pocket of his suit jacket.
Naturally rigid and especially strict with his son, Julian coldly asked, “Evan, what are you doing?”
Evan jumped in fright, quickly hiding his hands behind his back. “Nothing! Dad, why aren’t you asleep yet?”
“Hand it over.” Julian’s voice was icy.
Evan puffed out his cheeks and shook his head stubbornly. “There’s really nothing!”
As Julian stepped closer, he sternly asked, “Evan, have I not taught you that children must not
lie?”
He reached out and took the wallet from Evan’s clenched hand, frowning. “Why did you take my wallet?”
Inside were only some cash and cards, nothing unusual. That was what puzzled him. His son
had never lacked money.
Evan’s face flushed, and his eyes turned red. “Then give me Mom’s photo from inside! I’ve seen it before–it was a one–inch photo. Dad, give it to me!”
Julian’s pupils constricted. His breathing grew uneven, and only after steadying himself did he ask, “Who told you that photo was your mother? It was just a photo. I threw it away long ago.”
Evan suddenly grew emotional. “How could you throw away Mom’s photo! Dad, you’re horrible!” He sobbed uncontrollably. “There was only that one photo of her! How could you throw it away? That’s my mom. I know it! You’ve even talked to that photo! I hate you, Dad!”
With that, Evan ran back to his room and slammed the door.
A headache flared in Julian’s temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Evan, open the door.
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Chapter 112
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But the door remained locked, and Evan refused to talk to him.
Exhausted both physically and mentally, Julian finally gave up. “Tomorrow I’ll come home early, and we’ll talk.”
Inside the room, Evan cried until his eyes burned. Sniffling, a determined look flashed across his face. “Bad Dad. I’ll go find Mom myself.”
The next day, Bethany spotted Nora sitting alone in the cafeteria and carried her tray over.
“Is the food here to your liking?” Bethany asked, smiling.
“It’s pretty good. It suits me,” Nora replied. “The man from yesterday, was he your husband?”
Bethany nodded lightly. “Yes.”
“And that boy–he’s your husband’s nephew?”
“That’s right.”
Nora didn’t know why Evan lingered so strongly in her mind. She simply couldn’t forget those red, swollen, tear–filled eyes.
She asked, “Is he okay now?”
Bethany shook her head. “I’m not sure. He cried himself to sleep last night. When I left, he seemed calmer.”
Nora relaxed a little. “That’s good.”
“By the way, have you ever been back here before?”
“It’s not likely,” Nora said after a moment’s thought. “Maybe once when I was very young.”
“You don’t have an accent,” said Bethany.
People who had lived abroad for years often retained a faint accent, yet Nora had none at all, which genuinely surprised Bethany.
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