Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 83: Chapter 83

A surge of warmth spread through my chest. I looked up and met Aiden's gaze, a tender smile tugging at his lips.
"By the way," he said abruptly, his tone serious. "Are you sure it's safe for you to live alone? Why don't you move in with me?"
I blinked, caught off guard by such a startling proposal. "There's no need. I'm not a child; I can take care of myself."
Aiden's gaze was gentle yet intense. "Natalia, my parents have adored you since you were a child. They wouldn't mind at all. You can stay as long as you want, and we could even bring Benedict home with us," he said earnestly.
His words made my nerves tighten. A wave of unease swept over me as I caught an emotion in his gaze that I had never noticed before—a sense of deep affection and longing.
My mind flashed back to that night when he was drunk.
In the past, I had been blind to everything but Quinn, oblivious to the affections of anyone else. But now, as I rediscovered myself piece by piece, I had become more attuned to the emotions around me.
Could it be that the woman Aiden loved was... me?
It was only then that I began to realize the depths of his feelings. My chest tightened at the thought, but I quickly brushed it off. The realization left me shaken and awkward.
I was silent for a moment. "Even if your parents don't mind, wouldn't your future wife have a problem with it?" I quipped weakly, forcing a smile in an attempt to ease the tension.
Aiden paused, his gaze unwavering as he said, "Natalia, I've only ever loved you."
I froze, my eyes wide as his words hit me, my heart racing. The man I had always seen as a brother was now confessing to me.
Aiden seemed resolute, as though revealing a long-held secret. "I knew you loved Quinn, so I never said anything. As long as you were happy, I was willing to keep my feelings to myself forever.
"But he hurt you. He doesn't deserve you, Natalia. Now that you're free, I can't keep quiet anymore."
His voice softened as he asked, "Will you give me a chance to take care of you?"
Our eyes met, and I felt the weight of his sincerity, but feelings couldn't be forced.
"I'm sorry, Aiden," I murmured, lowering my eyes to avoid his gaze.
Aiden was undoubtedly an ideal partner, a man worthy of trust and devotion. But in my heart, he was—and would always be—like a brother to me.
"It's because of Quinn, isn't it?" he asked.
I pursed my lips, unsure of how to respond.
"I thought so. You still can't forget about him." Aiden let out a rueful laugh. "Don't apologize. I expected this. I just needed to tell you how I feel. Keeping it in any longer would've been unbearable."
I could never love anyone else the way I loved Quinn, and I would spend my life trying to get over him. I nodded, at a loss for what else to say.
With a heavy sigh, Aiden tried to lighten the mood. "It's all right," he said softly. "You don't have to feel pressured. You don't have to accept me but don't reject my feelings either. I'll wait for as long as it takes for you to move on."
With that, he stood up and looked at the time. "I need to get back to work. If I hear anything new about U3, I'll let you know right away," he said with a smile before leaving.
I watched his departing figure as I wrestled with the chaos of emotions swirling within me.
Later that afternoon, while I was resting in my apartment, I received a call from the police. "Ms. Hinton, this is the Eastside Police Department. We need your cooperation in Jenna Patton's case."
So, there had been progress in the investigation. My pulse quickened, but I agreed without hesitation. No one wanted the truth to come to light more than I did. After confirming the address, I called for a cab and headed over immediately.
At the station, the officer in charge asked me to recount everything that had happened in the hospital that day, and I answered as truthfully as I could, leaving no detail out.
"Have the blood test results come back yet?" I asked after giving a full account of the events.
The officer didn't answer directly. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and questioned, "Did you and your adoptive parents have a strained relationship?"
I stiffened. Her scrutinizing gaze unsettled me. "My conscience is clear. I've never hurt anyone," I said indignantly.
With a grim expression, the officer said, "The results aren't back yet, but the hospital's surveillance footage shows you were the only person who entered the room during the hour Jenna Patton was poisoned."
"And that proves I'm the culprit?" I countered.
"Ms. Hinton, there's no need to get defensive. This is just standard procedure," the officer replied, closing her notebook. "That will be all for today. Thank you for your cooperation."
After the interrogation was over, I left the police station. Before I could get a cab, I was ambushed by a swarm of reporters waiting outside. Cameras flashed incessantly, and microphones were shoved in my face.
"Ms. Hinton, did you poison your adoptive mother? Why would you do such a thing? What's your motive?" a reporter asked. "Is it true that you've been struggling with mental health issues since the loss of your child and your divorce?"
"Does your identity as an adopted daughter have anything to do with your divorce from Mr. Madden?" another reporter asked. "Ms. Hinton, please say something to the camera!"
The reporters' voices were deafening. The bidding event had caused such a stir, and with reporters already present and a live broadcast underway that night, the story quickly became a sensation.
Within days, my name had gone viral. What I hadn't anticipated was how fast the reporters had caught wind of my interrogation and camped out in front of the police station.
I tried to keep my composure. "I didn't do it," I said firmly. "I'm waiting for the police to clear my name."
The reporters were relentless, shouting more questions. Pushing away the microphones, I tried to make my way through the crowd, but I tripped over someone's foot. I stumbled forward, bracing for a hard fall—only to be caught by a firm, familiar grasp.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me before pulling me into his chest. The faint scent of mint washed over me. I raised my head and met Quinn's deep-set eyes.
My heart skipped a beat. Did he come all the way to pick me up after hearing the news?
"Come with me," he said. His arm stayed protectively around my shoulders as we pushed through the throng of reporters toward his car.
As if they had just gotten the scoop on explosive news, the reporters trailed behind us, their cameras flashing wildly.
Someone asked pointedly, "Mr. Madden, are you and Ms. Hinton getting back together?"
Quinn's expression was cold. Without turning around, he said tersely, "No comment."
The ambiguous response only seemed to fuel the frenzy. Unruffled, he opened the car door and ushered me inside before driving off, leaving the chaos behind.