Chapter 296 Take Her Child
Agnes fell asleep, but Harper couldn't. She lay awake, thinking she should find a father for Agnes soon. She knew Allen would agree, but she had to wait until after the divorce.
Harper felt troubled by her unexpected husband. She buried her head under the pillow.
At the bar, three men sat drinking. Wesley poured another round and noticed Francis drinking heavily. "Why are you drinking so much today?" he asked.
Francis stayed silent, his face cold.
"Isn't Harper's return a good thing? Why the long face?" Wesley pressed.
Francis suddenly asked, "Can a pregnancy last two years?"
Wesley laughed, "Even eleven-month pregnancies are rare. Would the baby go straight to kindergarten after it is in the womb for two years?"
Francis's hope vanished. He downed his drink.
Wesley guessed, "Did you see Harper's child?"
"Yes," Francis replied blankly.
"Who does the child look like?" Wesley asked.
Francis thought of the child's almond eyes, long lashes, and smile like Harper's. "She probably looks like her mother."
Francis had investigated Allen and seen photos. Though he didn't want to admit it, Allen and Harper looked somewhat alike. He couldn't tell if Agnes resembled Harper or Allen, but she seemed more like Harper.
Robert chimed in, "Ever think the child might be yours?"
Francis felt a pang and took another gulp. He had investigated. The birth certificate, hospital records, and birth video were all clear. After Harper left, he knew the child couldn't be Keith's. Keith was always scheming, and his last act might have been to plant doubt in Francis's mind. But many things were unclear before Harper "left."
Wesley saw the look on his friend's face and knew Francis had definitely investigated. He leaned back and said, "You're still dragging out the divorce. What do you think about the child?"
The Getty family hadn't had a legitimate child yet. If Francis didn't want a divorce, custody would be an issue. With Dylan dead and Ryan causing trouble, Ryan wouldn't accept Harper's child, whether it was his or not.
Thinking of Agnes, Francis felt a warmth in his heart. "If Harper agrees, the child will be under the Getty family name," he said.
Wesley was surprised. "Don't tell Harper that," he warned.
"Why?" Francis asked.
"Are you stupid?" Wesley laughed. "She'll think you want to take the child from her."
He raised an eyebrow, thinking Harper's kid must be adorable. He definitely had to meet her sometime.
Halfway through their drinks, Robert's phone rang. Whatever he heard made his face darken. He hung up and left.
Wesley watched him go and sighed. After Molly passed away, Robert had been self-destructive. Wesley tried to help, but it was no use. Eventually, both Robert and Francis were in bad shape.
Luckily, Francis had pulled himself together for Abigail, and things got better. Robert, on the other hand, seemed to live only to take care of Leah.
Robert stormed into a club, kicking doors of the private rooms inside. The people inside were startled and cursed at him. He ignored them, looking for someone.
The club's manager, Patricia Torres, saw the commotion and rushed over, offering a cigarette. "Mr. Perot, what are you doing?"
Robert's face was cold. "Where's Heather?"
Patricia broke into a cold sweat. "Heather took the night off for a friend's birthday party."
"Birthday party?" Robert sneered.
Patricia insisted, "Yes, she went to a friend's birthday party."
Seeing waiters behind Robert apologizing to guests, Patricia was furious. She had asked Heather to accompany Trevor Adams, but Heather protested. She believed Robert was called here by Heather, to find justice for her.
Patricia didn't dare offend Robert but planned to deal with Heather later.
Robert sneered, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, she really..."
Before she could finish, Robert smashed a fat man's head into an ashtray. Blood flowed, and the man screamed.
Robert, with a cigarette still burning, looked like a grim reaper. "Still celebrating a birthday?"
Patricia, terrified, shouted, "No, no! Heather is in room eight."
"Mr. Perot," she cried, "Please, I can't afford to lose a night's business!"
Robert let go and headed to room eight.
Inside, Trevor was tearing off Heather's clothes. Before he could do more, Robert threw him out the door.
Heather, curled up on the sofa, looked at Robert with pitiful eyes. "Robert, you finally came."
"Yes, I'm here," he said, reaching out to caress her face.
Heather's tears fell silently. Suddenly, Robert's hand froze, and the room turned cold.
Heather felt a sharp pain in her chin. Robert's eyes were icy as he gripped her chin tightly. "Don't cry," he said. Crying made her unlike Molly.
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