Chapter 23 Are You Hiding Something From Me?
Observing her silence, Martin's expression turned icy cold. "Why the silence, Patricia? Are you concealing something from me?"
Patricia forced herself to remain composed and smirked. "Who are you to me? Even married couples have their secrets. Why shouldn't I have something to keep from you?"
Her response essentially confirmed it, and Martin's face darkened further. "Don't attempt to confuse me. You know precisely what I'm referring to."
Patricia played dumb. "I'm not a mind reader. How am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"
Martin grabbed her wrist. "What's on your phone, Patricia? Don't try to deceive me. I'm not stupid."
"Ouch... it hurts..." Patricia winced as he squeezed her wrist tightly. She took a deep breath. "Release me and don't resort to physicality. If you truly want to know, I'll show you. It's nothing significant anyway."
Upon hearing this, Martin gradually loosened his hold. Once he let go, Patricia took out her phone and handed it to him with an exaggerated gesture. The phone displayed only a photo of Randy peacefully asleep.
The little boy's head was tilted, a sweet smile on his face as he dreamt. Patricia explained, "I couldn't resist taking a few more photos when I saw how peacefully Randy was sleeping. Am I not allowed to indulge myself?"
Martin, however, wasn't easily fooled. "Then who were you speaking with?"
Patricia sighed, appearing exasperated. "I gave birth to this adorable and handsome son. Can't I simply admire him on my own?"
Martin regarded her with a mixture of belief and doubt. Something didn't sit right with him, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Unbeknownst to him, Patricia silently assessed his changing expressions. Seeing that he didn't seem to suspect anything, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Fortunately, her phone had a privacy screen protector. Martin likely had only caught a fleeting glimpse, making it easier for her to convince him.
Concerned that her deception might unravel if she stayed any longer, Patricia prepared to depart. "Mr. Langley, is there anything else you require? If not, I'll return to my room."
With a furrowed brow, Martin asked, "Must we maintain such a distant relationship?"
"Why not?" Patricia asked with an arched eyebrow and a half-smile. "Should I address you as 'Darling Martin' like Debbie does? Or perhaps 'Husband'? Spare me, I might have nightmares."
Martin ground his teeth in frustration. For a fleeting moment, he entertained the thought of strangling the sharp-tongued woman before him.
"It's unrealistic for ex-spouses to remain friends after divorce," Patricia said, approaching him. "Especially between you and me; reconciliation is out of the question. I will never forgive you for what you did to me. You can pretend it never happened, but I cannot."
She sneered and left coldly. Martin couldn't fathom the source of her intense animosity towards him. His anger flared, and he took deep breaths repeatedly to regain his composure.
Despite their divorce, he had offered her a generous settlement. Why did she harbor such deep-seated hatred? It was as if he were her mortal enemy. Just as Patricia entered her room, her phone in her pocket began to ring.
The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number, yet it was etched in her memory. She would never forget it, not even in death. She silently watched the numbers flashing on her phone screen, refusing to answer or hang up.
Suddenly, Martin's voice came from behind her. "Is it Gavin calling? Why aren't you picking up?"
Patricia responded with self-mockery, "It's been five years, not a single call, and now he calls just because Debbie has suffered. What do you think he wants from me?"
Martin frowned, discontented. "A father who doesn't love his child isn't a father. Don't think so poorly of him."
"Think?" Patricia sneered, pulling Martin to the balcony. Without waiting for her to initiate the conversation, she answered the call with the speakerphone on. Gavin couldn't wait to speak.
"Patricia, how could you broadcast our family affairs everywhere? Have you ever thought about my reputation?"
Five years had passed with no contact between father and daughter, and now, their first interaction consisted of admonishments rather than concern or comfort. Patricia shot a mocking look at Martin.
Martin remained silent.
Expressionless, Patricia said, "Are you calling me just to scold me? If that's the case, I'm busy and don't have time to listen."
Gavin hesitated momentarily, seemingly unable to grasp that his typically obedient daughter was defying him. "What's with this attitude? I've raised you all these years, and you won't even let me speak a word?"
Impatient, Patricia retorted, "If you don't get to the point, I'm hanging up."
Fearing that Patricia might actually hang up, Gavin, despite his anger, had to temporarily suppress it. "It's been five years since our father-daughter reunion. Now that you're back, let's meet. Tomorrow at 11 am, I'll be waiting for you at home."
His tone carried a commanding air, coupled with a hint of reluctance. Patricia, too, was curious about the changes her father might have undergone during their five years of separation.
She agreed to meet with him. "Fine, I'll be there on time."
The call concluded. Patricia glanced at Martin and said, "Do you still think I'm the only one with a low opinion of him?"
Martin asserted, "Misunderstandings can be resolved between father and daughter. There's no need to treat each other as enemies. I've observed how Gavin has been during these past five years. He's always been searching for you."
Patricia found his naivety amusing. Deep down, she knew her father's true nature. He was a complete hypocrite; otherwise, he wouldn't have allowed Debbie and Joe to keep their surnames all these years. Martin had a soft spot for Debbie, and Gavin was unaware of Martin's true identity.
Patricia couldn't be bothered to explain further, so she decisively said, "Since you hold him in such high regard, why don't you accompany me to visit the Watson family tomorrow? I'll let you see their true colors."
"It's your family matter. It has nothing to do with me!" Martin said and left without looking back.
Patricia seethed with anger; she took a few deep breaths to calm herself before heading downstairs to the kitchen. She prepared a seafood bisque for Randy using the available ingredients, placed everything in a pot, and set the stove to the lowest setting.
After tasting a sip of the soup to ensure its flavor, she left the kitchen. As soon as she departed, a suspicious figure sneaked in. Seeing no one around, the intruder surreptitiously poured a small bottle of transparent liquid into the soup and disappeared without a trace.
During dinner, the family of three gathered around the table. Randy sipped the soup Patricia had prepared, his eyes nearly widening to his ears. "Mommy, you're amazing, your cooking is so good, and this soup is delicious!"
Patricia observed him savoring the soup with a satisfied expression, her heart brimming with happiness. "You're quite the flatterer."
Martin, with a hint of disdain, scooped up a spoonful of the creamy soup and brought it to his lips. The rich fragrance enveloped his senses, and the silky texture melted on his tongue. It became evident why Randy consistently praised Patricia's cooking.
It turned out Randy's compliments were not mere flattery; Patricia's culinary skills were genuinely exceptional. Martin polished off two bowls in rapid succession, and just as he contemplated a third, Patricia shot him a glare and said, "What's the rush? Are you planning to finish it all? I prepared this soup for Randy. Why compete with him?"
Martin reluctantly set his bowl aside and glanced at Randy, who continued to sip his soup, unable to resist the temptation. However, Randy's small appetite limited him to just two bowls.
He personally went to the kitchen and scooped a bowl for Patricia, saying, "Mommy, you should drink too."
Patricia was moved by his gesture, affectionately tousling Randy's hair before accepting the offered bowl. She took a sip, and as the soup graced her taste buds, a subtle suspicion crept in. She dismissed it as her imagination and took another sip.
Yet, a faint sweetness lingered. While the seafood's savory flavor nearly masked it, Patricia could still discern the slight sweetness with each sip. Troubled, she returned to the kitchen and scooped a spoonful of soup from the pot, confirming the presence of that peculiar sweetness.
Something was amiss. Patricia distinctly remembered not adding any sweet seasoning to the soup.
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