Chapter 892 Spoil You
Nathan awoke early, remaining silent as he lay in Oliver's embrace.
Oliver, having freshened up in the bathroom, noticed Nathan scanning the room with wide eyes. When their gazes met, Nathan hesitated before looking away.
As Oliver grabbed his tablet to check his emails, Natalie woke up and immediately saw Nathan's big eyes. She cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek, "Baby, you woke up so early and behaved so well."
"Well-behaved my foot," Oliver retorted coolly as he glanced at Nathan. He complained to Natalie, "He kept kicking me all night."
"How is that possible? I didn't feel a thing," Natalie responded in disbelief. She had woken several times during the night and thought Nathan had been very calm, and she too had slept soundly.
Nathan, hearing his parents talk, began to make adorable sounds.
"Are you saying this just because you don't want our son to sleep with us?" Natalie asked, eyeing Oliver with suspicion.
"Natalie, in your eyes and heart, there's only Nathan!" Oliver exclaimed, his frustration evident. Natalie was accusing him of lying to her!
Oliver tossed aside his tablet and headed downstairs, his posture seemed to say, 'I'm angry. Come and coax me!'
Natalie placed Nathan in the crib, quickly washed up, and then descended the stairs with Nathan in her arms. As she entered the dining room, Marjorie, sipping her coffee quietly, noticed them and greeted cheerfully, "Nathan, come here, Grandma wants to hold you!"
Natalie passed Nathan to the maid, who then brought him to Marjorie.
After a brief moment of amusement, Marjorie handed Nathan to the maid to carry him due to her old age before she continued to play with him. Despite Nathan being her grandson, Natalie could not shake the feeling that Marjorie treated him more like an interactive smart AI toy.
"Grandma, where's Oliver?" Natalie inquired after sitting down and noticing Oliver's absence.
Marjorie nodded in the direction of the garage.
"He's waiting for you to comfort him! Don't mind him; he's almost thirty and still throws tantrums," she remarked with a smile, then added, "Nathan is so well-behaved and cute, unlike your father!"
Natalie was puzzled by how Emma thought Nathan and Oliver were different. The father and son not only bore a striking resemblance but also shared similar temperaments.
Despite Marjorie's advice to ignore Oliver, Natalie felt compelled to reach out. She prepared two sandwiches and headed toward the garage. Given its immense size, spanning three floors, finding Oliver initially seemed daunting. However, as soon as she entered the first floor, Natalie spotted a red Pagani with its lights glaring. There, in the driver's seat, was Oliver, a cigarette delicately balanced between his fingers, the ember glowing intermittently.
Oliver's expression was contemplative as he blew a perfect smoke ring. Noticing Natalie approaching, he quickly extinguished the cigarette and fully opened the Pagani’s convertible top to clear the smoke.
Natalie approached the driver's side and extended a sandwich toward him.
Oliver looked up quizzically, his eyebrow arched in silent inquiry.
"Breakfast," Natalie said, firmly placing the sandwich in his hand.
She leaned against the car door, her gaze soft yet teasing as she asked, "Oliver, why are you acting like a three-year-old?"
Oliver returned her gaze. Unbeknownst to Natalie, her current pose—leaning against the silver sports car, her attractive figure and striking features highlighted—made her look exceptionally captivating. Her allure was undeniable, reminiscent of her days as a car model, which had made her an object of admiration both in person and online. Her previous style had been pure and aloof, but now, it had evolved into something sexy and mature.
"Natalie, come here." Oliver beckoned, motioning toward the passenger seat.
"What for?" Natalie asked, cautious. She knew Oliver's moods well; his dark eyes looked stormy, an indication that he was anything but calm.
Oliver's lips curled into a slight smile, signaling his good mood. Before Natalie could react, Oliver suddenly exited the car and reached out to her. In a swift motion, he scooped Natalie by the waist and pressed her against the hood. His lips met hers in a fervent kiss, momentarily dissolving the tension between them.
After what felt like an eternity, Natalie's lips began to numb, and only then did Oliver finally release her. However, he didn't completely disengage; instead, he gently nuzzled her ear, saying, "They say pregnancy makes you stupid. Baby, are you stupid or not?"
He teased her, his breath warm against her skin.
If she was indeed stupid, she had nonetheless keenly felt the desire in his gaze just moments ago. If she was not, she had perceived it but had not shied away from it.
"You're the stupid one!" Natalie retorted playfully, tapping his chest with a laugh, "It's you who's being stupid, getting jealous of your own son!"
At this juncture, Oliver could not deny the jealousy he felt toward Nathan. Instead of avoiding the accusation, he gently squeezed Natalie's chin, lifting her face slightly to meet his eyes. He asked with a half-smirk, "So, Mrs. Windsor, you know I'm jealous? Are you deliberately making me jealous?"
"Who's deliberately making you jealous?!" Natalie exclaimed, feeling unjustly accused. She had been far too preoccupied to provoke Oliver's jealousy intentionally.
"But you only hugged Nathan last night. And this morning, you only kissed Nathan," Oliver continued, his voice laced with a hint of grievance.
He was, indeed, jealous of Nathan, and his emotions were clear as day.
Natalie tilted her head, a smile threatening to break through her restraint. She then took the initiative, wrapping her arms around Oliver's neck, her eyes sparkling with mirth. With a playful tug, she brought his head down a bit and stood on her tiptoes, peppering his face with kisses.
Oliver, momentarily taken aback by her initiative.
"Now can we call it even? I hugged you and kissed you too," Natalie declared, a playful challenge in her voice, "I even kissed you more times than Nathan!"
His response came with a smile as he tightened his grip around her, pressing her close.
"Not enough yet."
His expression seemed to say, 'Kiss me more.'
Natalie obliged, tilting her head to grant him two more kisses. When preparing for the third, Oliver swept in and returned her affection with fervor.
However, Natalie had to put a gentle stop to his escalating desire, mindful of the setting. They were alone in Oliver's garage, a place where no one would intrude without invitation, yet she felt the need to maintain some control.
"Nathan is getting older. He can't sleep with us anymore in the future, understand?"
She nodded, though internally she disagreed.
Nathan was only six months old, still very much a baby in her eyes. While she understood Oliver’s point, her willingness to follow through was another matter entirely. Teaching independence to a child was one thing, but she felt it unreasonable to expect such maturity from someone so young. It seemed to her that Oliver's insistence was less about Nathan’s development and more about his own selfish desires, even bordering on a disdain for their son's needs.
…
At the hospital.
Susan endured the pain and changed her clothes using only one hand before she snuck out of the hospital while the staff was distracted.
The outside world buzzed with activity as she caught a taxi to the Paykston Hotel.
As the scenery flashed past outside, Susan felt cold and disgusted. She had thought it would be difficult to avoid the Hastings family to meet with Randy Wright, but the Hastings had been notably absent in recent days.
Arriving at Room 1702, Susan steeled herself and rang the doorbell.
Randy, who appeared in his thirties despite being middle-aged due to his diligent self-care, answered the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist.
However, to Susan, a designer accustomed to the physiques of male models, Randy’s figure, which was passable, was underwhelming at best. His ordinary looks were compensated somewhat by a scholarly demeanor, but Susan knew all too well the façade he presented to the world.
"Randy," she called out coldly.
Randy let her in and instructed, "Go take a shower."
Susan's expression shifted as she showed him her still-bandaged arm. "Look, my injury hasn't healed yet."
"Do you want me to sleep with you if you don't shower?" Randy's disdain was palpable as he responded.
"I don't," Susan gritted her teeth and replied as she lowered her head, "What I mean is, I'm not comfortable. Can we do it next time?"
"I don't need your hand," Randy retorted. He, a renowned plastic surgeon with a gentle temper, had a bad temper behind closed doors.
In a sudden and aggressive move, he grabbed Susan by the neck, shoved her against the wall, and her head was hit with a loud thud, causing her immense pain.
As Randy issued another chilling command for Susan to wash up, his smile twisted into something sinister. He looked like the devil as he taunted maliciously, "Don't forget, your face that looks a lot like Mrs. Hastings is a gift from me. If others find out your face is fake, do you think you can still stay with the Hastings family?"
Randy relished in belittling Susan. He continued, "Susan, stop pretending to be innocent in front of me. I was your first man, and I know you very well!"
Susan clenched her hands tightly, hiding her boiling hatred. Randy was indeed the first man in her life, but not by choice—he had forced her, and that dark beginning had bound her to him in the worst way. She thought of resisting countless times, but she could not. She owed her face to him, and she had to compromise with the devil in front of her. He had crafted her face, after all. He had a hold over her, and she had no say in the matter.
Susan lay on the bed. Her spirit was as bruised as her body. She was consumed by a sense of injustice and directed her bitterness toward Natalie, whom she blamed as the catalyst of her misery.
…
Meanwhile, Jane packed her bags, bought a ticket at the airport, and only informed Flora and Natalie of her departure as she was about to board her flight. She told them she was headed for a field trip to the border.
"Passengers of Flight CA4323 to Southvale, please board as soon as possible."
The announcement rang out as Jane cast a forlorn look back at Paykston Airport. She had no particular attachment to the airport or Paykston, but she dreaded her destination—Southvale. After Anthony and Aurora's engagement, Jane had thought she would never return to Southvale, particularly to the Clark family.
Yet, fate had other plans.
…
Upon her arrival at the Clark family mansion, it was clear that her presence was expected.
"Madam, Ms. Dewar, Miss Watkins is here," a servant said after leading Jane to the living room.
There, Jane was met with various gazes—shock, curiosity, amusement, and mockery from the many guests invited by Ann.
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