Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 268: Chapter 268
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"Natalia!" Shirley called out. Seeing that I had not returned to the hospital room for quite some time, Shirley was worried and came downstairs to look for me. Her eyes widened at the sight of the dirt on my clothes. "What happened? I just saw you talking to the cops!"
"Mom, I'm fine. I just took a little tumble," I reassured her softly, then recounted everything that had happened, from the moment I saw Forrest to the call I made to the police.
Shirley was clearly shaken, pressing a hand to her chest as she listened.
As soon as I finished speaking, Shirley immediately grabbed my hand, her voice trembling. "How could you confront someone so dangerous? What if something had happened to you? What would I do without you?"
Seeing Shirley on the verge of tears, I quickly wrapped my arms around her. "Mom, I'm sorry," I said soothingly. "I promise I won't make you worry like this again."
I comforted Shirley for quite a while before she finally calmed down.
It's no wonder that Mom is so worried—York is still recovering in the hospital, and now I've just run into that criminal. If I were in her shoes, I'd be just as worried—my heart would be pounding like crazy.
At the thought of that, I gave Shirley a reassuring pat on the back and asked, "Mom, how's York doing?"
"He's awake," Shirley said with a sigh of relief. "Your brother wanted a moment alone with June. Since you hadn't come back in a while, I used that as an excuse to come downstairs and give them some space."
I nodded.
It was painfully clear that June cared deeply for York—anyone could see that. But York's feelings? I was not so sure. And honestly, it was not my place to figure it out.
Suddenly, a thought struck me. I turned to Shirley, eyes wide in shock. "Mom, when York needed a blood transfusion earlier, the hospital didn't have enough in stock. I wanted to donate, but the doctor said... our blood types don't match..."
I phrased it carefully—partly because the implications were too much for me to process just yet, and partly because I wanted to gauge Shirley's reaction.
Just as I expected, Shirley's expression changed abruptly upon hearing this.
She pressed her lips together, gazing at me for a long moment before letting out a slow sigh. "York isn't my biological child."
"What did you say?" Even though I had tried to prepare myself, I was still taken aback.
"You two aren't biological siblings," Shirley said solemnly. "Your father and I adopted York. I was devastated for a long time after I thought you were dead. One day, your father took me out to clear my mind, and we found a little boy in a village house. He was about three or four years old, burning with fever and barely conscious. The villagers told us he and his mother had only each other to rely on, but she had passed away a month earlier. With no other family, the boy was left alone in that house, surviving on occasional handouts from neighbors.
"He was so terribly ill at the time—it instantly reminded me of losing you as a baby," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "The boy looked so pitiful, so I asked your father to take him to the nearest hospital. After his fever broke, I stayed by his side day and night for three days, barely sleeping. When he finally opened his eyes and saw me, the very first word he spoke was, 'Mommy'.
"Mom, I'm fine. I just took a little tumble," I reassured her softly, then recounted everything that had happened, from the moment I saw Forrest to the call I made to the police.
Shirley was clearly shaken, pressing a hand to her chest as she listened.
As soon as I finished speaking, Shirley immediately grabbed my hand, her voice trembling. "How could you confront someone so dangerous? What if something had happened to you? What would I do without you?"
Seeing Shirley on the verge of tears, I quickly wrapped my arms around her. "Mom, I'm sorry," I said soothingly. "I promise I won't make you worry like this again."
I comforted Shirley for quite a while before she finally calmed down.
It's no wonder that Mom is so worried—York is still recovering in the hospital, and now I've just run into that criminal. If I were in her shoes, I'd be just as worried—my heart would be pounding like crazy.
At the thought of that, I gave Shirley a reassuring pat on the back and asked, "Mom, how's York doing?"
"He's awake," Shirley said with a sigh of relief. "Your brother wanted a moment alone with June. Since you hadn't come back in a while, I used that as an excuse to come downstairs and give them some space."
I nodded.
It was painfully clear that June cared deeply for York—anyone could see that. But York's feelings? I was not so sure. And honestly, it was not my place to figure it out.
Suddenly, a thought struck me. I turned to Shirley, eyes wide in shock. "Mom, when York needed a blood transfusion earlier, the hospital didn't have enough in stock. I wanted to donate, but the doctor said... our blood types don't match..."
I phrased it carefully—partly because the implications were too much for me to process just yet, and partly because I wanted to gauge Shirley's reaction.
Just as I expected, Shirley's expression changed abruptly upon hearing this.
She pressed her lips together, gazing at me for a long moment before letting out a slow sigh. "York isn't my biological child."
"What did you say?" Even though I had tried to prepare myself, I was still taken aback.
"You two aren't biological siblings," Shirley said solemnly. "Your father and I adopted York. I was devastated for a long time after I thought you were dead. One day, your father took me out to clear my mind, and we found a little boy in a village house. He was about three or four years old, burning with fever and barely conscious. The villagers told us he and his mother had only each other to rely on, but she had passed away a month earlier. With no other family, the boy was left alone in that house, surviving on occasional handouts from neighbors.
"He was so terribly ill at the time—it instantly reminded me of losing you as a baby," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "The boy looked so pitiful, so I asked your father to take him to the nearest hospital. After his fever broke, I stayed by his side day and night for three days, barely sleeping. When he finally opened his eyes and saw me, the very first word he spoke was, 'Mommy'.
End of Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son Chapter 268. Continue reading Chapter 269 or return to Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son book page.