Hi Ex, Your Uncle Is My Hubby Now - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Instead, he bent down, opened a drawer beneath the desk, and pulled out a small model race car. "This is Corey's birthday gift. Take it with you when you go home tonight," he said, setting it on the desk.
Corey Bell was Aiden's son, eight years old this year—and practically raised under Jeremy's roof.
Aiden accepted the gift with a broad grin. "Thank you, Mr. Tucker. When there's a chance, I'll bring Corey by so he can thank you properly."
"He's always welcome," Jeremy replied.
Then, as if casually remembering something, he glanced down at the string of beads on his wrist and asked, "Any updates on Doctor Patt's whereabouts?"
Doctor Patt was a legendary figure in the world of traditional medicine.
He was the honorary director of the Traditional Medicine Clinic and had made countless contributions to the field.
His name appeared in the acknowledgments of numerous medical texts, and he had received multiple prestigious national awards.
Yet, no one knew his age, where he lived, or even what he looked like.
He was notoriously low-profile—never appeared in public, never granted interviews—and corresponded with the Clinic only through handwritten, anonymous letters, as if pulled straight from another era.
Each letter sparked new breakthroughs and stirred the entire medical community.
His awards still sat in the Traditional Medicine Clinic's exhibit hall, waiting for the day he might finally appear and accept them in person.
Jeremy had seen countless doctors since falling ill, but none could offer a cure.
Doctor Patt had become his final hope.
At his question, Aiden's brow furrowed. He looked down, embarrassed. "He's too private, too elusive. So far, I haven't found a trace."
But Jeremy didn't seem surprised—or disappointed.
"If a man wants to disappear, finding him won't be easy. If we do manage it, it's fate. If not... then perhaps that's fate too."
When his illness first hit, Jeremy had fought it with everything he had.
But the disease was relentless. No matter how strong his will, eventually, he had to bow to it.
The next morning, early.
Irene arrived at the studio. She had just pulled her laptop from her briefcase when the door swung open.
The voice came first, dripping with sass. "Well, well. Our dear Miss Jackson remembers she still has a job?"
Irene looked up and saw Anthony.
Anthony—better known in social circles as "Princess Anthony".
Young, loaded, and obsessed with beautiful things.
Two years ago, he'd set out to choose a business partner from Aurelith University's famously competitive architecture program. His top requirement?
"Must be absolutely stunning."
In Anthony's words, "Being a corporate drone is already soul-crushing. The least I can do is partner with someone pretty enough to lift my spirits."
So, Irene—equal parts talent and eye candy—won the beauty contest and landed the gig.
Seeing him now gave Irene a strange sense of déjà vu.
For Anthony, it had only been two days since they last saw each other. But for her, it felt like a lifetime.
In her previous life, under Dorian's toxic manipulation, she had asked Anthony to dissolve their partnership during their wedding preparations.
Anthony had cursed her out—right to her face—and then shut down the studio the very next day. He took the entire team and returned to Viremont City to restart his own empire.
As the youngest heir of the powerful Murray family, Anthony thrived effortlessly, even in Viremont City.
The next time Irene saw him was at her funeral.
He had always been flamboyant and full of flair, but that day, he showed up in a plain black suit, holding a single white chrysanthemum.
He placed it gently in her empty coffin and whispered, grief thick in his voice, "Irene, my wife was a taekwondo champion. She passed away four years ago—probably running the underworld by now.
"When you get down there, find her.
"Her name is Jaycee Ford. Just say you're with Anthony. She'll take care of you."
After that, Irene never saw him again. Even Dorian rarely mentioned him.