Chapter 533 Does Albert Know About This? What About the Children?
Under the warm glow of the dining room lights, the family gathered around the table, each face radiating pure happiness.
Doyle, who had stumbled into becoming Albert's birthday witness for the day, found himself seamlessly woven into their intimate circle.
The cake was brought to the table—a simple sponge base crowned with whipped cream and adorned with strawberries and blueberries that the children adored. Though modest, it carried immeasurable significance.
BoBo and CiCi beamed with pride as they presented their creation, their eyes sparkling with excitement. The gentle candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across their glowing faces.
When Albert closed his eyes to make his silent wish, time seemed to suspend itself. This moment held a warmth and happiness they hadn't felt in far too long.
Together they blew out the candles, and CiCi's curiosity bubbled over. "Daddy, what did you wish for?"
Albert's tender gaze swept discreetly across Yvette's face before he smiled. "If I tell you, it won't come true."
CiCi accepted the gentle refusal without disappointment, clapping her hands together. "Can we cut the cake together?"
"Of course." Albert guided CiCi's small hands as they sliced through the cake, dividing it into perfect portions.
BoBo presented the first slice to Doyle with ceremonial gravity. "Mr. Cunningham, this one's for you."
"Good Lord, Yvette, BoBo's manners are impeccable," Doyle marveled.
"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Cunningham." BoBo handed the next slice to Yvette with equal care. "Mommy, this is yours."
"Thank you, sweetheart." Yvette accepted the cake, her smile filled with maternal pride.
Just then, Doyle's phone buzzed insistently. He took a bite of cake, savoring the sweetness before excusing himself. "I need to take this call."
Albert's eyes followed Doyle's retreating figure with quiet observation, though he said nothing, continuing to help CiCi with the cake cutting.
"Are the extra pieces for the staff?" BoBo asked thoughtfully. "Can CiCi and I take some to them?"
Yvette ruffled both children's hair affectionately. "Go ahead, darlings."
As she watched her children carefully carry cake slices to the household staff, Yvette's gaze never wavered from their small figures.
Albert's voice, tinged with a bittersweet quality, reached her ears. "You've raised BoBo and CiCi beautifully."
His words hung unfinished in the air, but Yvette understood the unspoken continuation. He was thinking about the child they'd lost—how they might have raised that baby with the same love and care.
The same thought had haunted her countless times. Yvette lowered her eyes, masking the pain that threatened to surface.
Albert opened his mouth to continue when Doyle suddenly appeared, his expression taut with urgency.
Doyle approached Yvette directly, his brow furrowed with concern. "Yvette, are you absolutely certain you haven't been experiencing any physical discomfort? Absolutely certain?"
The anxiety in Doyle's voice triggered Albert's immediate alarm. He turned sharply toward Doyle. "What's going on? What do you mean?"
"You're saying my blood work shows abnormal values?" Yvette's voice remained steady. "It's alright—I'm aware of my condition."
She met Doyle's worried gaze. "If you're concerned, I can be admitted for more comprehensive testing."
Doyle studied Yvette's face, weighing his words carefully.
"Fine." He composed his expression with practiced neutrality. "I'll arrange your admission."
"Thank you, Dr. Cunningham." Yvette glanced around casually. "The children are taking their time—could you check on them?"
Albert caught the subtle exchange between them, suspicion flickering in his mind. When both Yvette and Doyle maintained their composed facades, he dismissed his concerns. "I'll go call them back for cake."
The moment Albert left, Doyle's mask slipped, revealing deep concern. "You know what's happening to your body, don't you?"
"I have a general idea." Yvette's voice betrayed the first tremor of vulnerability.
"Then you should have warned me sooner. With these abnormal readings, you need immediate evaluation." Doyle's expression grew grave. "You have to understand—you could deteriorate at any moment."
"I've been getting regular tests, but there's simply no treatment available," Yvette replied quietly.
"How can there be no treatment?" Doyle's frown deepened. "And why are your levels fluctuating so wildly? The report I received before coming here showed completely normal values. How could everything change so drastically in just a few hours?"
Though he left the question hanging, Yvette knew her current readings must be catastrophic—likely without a single normal parameter.
"That earlier test was taken right after I returned home." Yvette's voice grew thick with emotion. "Before David brought me back, he administered all the medications the Hayes family had been giving me."
Doyle stared at her in disbelief, struggling to process such a revelation.
"I need the complete truth, Yvette. As your physician, you must tell me everything you know," he said with quiet intensity.
"Of course." Yvette nodded, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper as she relayed everything Clifford had told her.
Doyle's face went ashen. "You're telling me you've suffered radiation poisoning from an unknown heavy metal compound—one that hasn't been studied and has no antidote?"
"Yes." Yvette's nod carried the weight of despair. "That's why I said there's no treatment currently available."
Doyle opened his mouth but found himself speechless. A deathly silence stretched between them—both physicians fully grasping the gravity of her condition.
Finally, Doyle drew a shaky breath. "Does Albert know? What about the children?"
The mention of her family sent a sharp pain through Yvette's chest—the very thought she'd been avoiding since her return.
"They don't know yet." Her lips barely moved as she whispered, "I can't imagine how they'd react."
"But you have to tell him. This isn't negotiable." Doyle's words carried unwavering conviction. "Albert isn't just anyone—he has resources beyond your imagination. Tell him now, and maybe he can find a solution. Don't wait until it's too late to speak, only to live with regret."
Though Doyle spoke in generalities, Yvette understood his meaning perfectly. She'd missed too many opportunities by not knowing how to find the right words.
She couldn't afford that luxury anymore. Every moment was precious now.
"I will tell him." Yvette's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you for covering for me just now. Today is his birthday—I couldn't bear to ruin it with this news."
Her resolve crystallized. "I'll tell him myself."
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