Chapter 144
Growing up, Owen had never heard his dad speak in such a gentle tone...
If his dad had been that tender and patient with him, how could Owen ever conceive of fleeing home day after day?
Yet—
Owen cast a glance at the beautiful little girl and shrank inwardly.
If only he were a fraction as attractive as little sister Angela, Dad would surely cherish him as well.
Isn't it just his luck to be so unappealing?
Angela let go of the puzzle piece in her hands and stood, her gaze fixed on Ivan as she tentatively took the first step forward, only to hesitate and draw back.
She glanced down and cautiously peeked at Todd.
To an outsider, the look held no apparent meaning.
Yet Todd saw right through it.
He had told his sister before that this guy wasn't worth their affection.
So she hesitated.
Todd's emotions were in turmoil.
He stood up, took Angela's hand, and murmured, "Sis, wherever you want to go, I'm with you."
The young girl pursed her lips, a smile curving at the edges.
Clutching Todd's hand, she hastened toward Ivan.
"Angela's such a good girl."
Ivan breathed a sigh of relief he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Just moments ago, he had worried she wouldn't come over, which would make his comments to Haley quite the joke.
Thankfully, the little lady had spared him the embarrassment.
He lifted his hand to tousle her soft hair, his tone increasingly gentle: "Angela, did you speak in my office that day?"
Angela blinked her long, fluttering lashes, her clear eyes awash with confusion.
Haley took her hand, whispering, "Angela, tell Mommy you can talk, okay?"
The little girl remained still, unchanged.
A crease formed between Todd's brows.
Could it be that his sister had spoken in Ivan's presence?
Did this man have such a profound influence on her?
Todd's lips tightened as he said, "Sis, if you can talk, just say one word. Don't worry Mommy."
If this man could engage his sister with the world, Todd might just tolerate his presence in their lives...
Ivan squatted down, his tall, powerful legs awkwardly folded in a half-kneel.
His deep-set eyes locked onto Angela, his emotions a mystery to onlookers.
With a voice deep and tender, he spoke deliberately: "Angela, I know you like me. I'm Mr. Winston. You haven't called me that yet."
Angela's unfocused gaze slowly sharpened.
She stared at Ivan, her pink lips parting as if to shout but without making a sound.
The room fell silent in anticipation.
Ivan pressed on: "Angela, louder, Mr. Winston didn't hear you."
Never in his twenty-odd years had he exhibited such patience for anyone or anything. This was a first.
His eyes blazing encouragement, he watched the little girl before him.
As if compelled by an unseen force, her normally quiet voice began to emerge.
Her lips barely moved as she whispered, "Daddy, Mr. Winston."
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