He stood up straight, his tall figure framed in the metal doorframe. Ivana Monroe tried several times to push him away, but the man remained as steady as a mountain. Content originally comes from N()velFire.net
Ivana was furious. She lifted her fair face and said unceremoniously, "This is a society under the rule of law, Leon Keane. You’ve intruded into a private residence, and I can call the police on you."
Ivana originally wanted to accuse him of kidnapping her child, but he hadn’t taken Timmy away while she was out, so it didn’t count as kidnapping.
Leon Keane’s handsome face curled into a faint smile as he pulled out a high-end metallic phone: "Do you need me to dial the police for you? It’s just as well that the police come. I’d like to ask them, does a father visiting his own child count as intrusion?"
Ivana laughed angrily, "What evidence do you have to say Timmy is your child? I carried him for nine months and gave birth to him. Wouldn’t I know better than you who his father is?"
"Mr. Keane, you are also a father, a person with kids. I believe you can understand more the importance of a child to their mother. I beg you, please don’t make things difficult for us, mother and son."
Leon Keane was taken aback. Seeing Ivana’s eyes gradually reddening, enduring the mist that threatened to turn into helpless tears, his heart suddenly ached.
Leon had an urge to hold her in his arms and comfort her.
"Do you still remember what Timmy’s father looked like six years ago?" He tightened his fingers and gazed into her eyes with deep, dark eyes. When he saw her eyes flicker slightly, he knew she was lying.
A person’s look doesn’t lie. If she truly remembered, she wouldn’t hesitate in front of him.
"This has nothing to do with you, Mr. Keane. I don’t want to recall the look of scum." Ivana felt a vague unease in her heart and reached out to push him out the door: "Mr. Keane, please leave, I need to take Timmy for lunch."
Leon Keane was pushed out just as he wanted to say, "Where do you want to go for lunch? I’ll take you."
The door closed, leaving him shut outside.
Leon Keane’s handsome face immediately turned gloomy. He stood for a while at the door, but the woman inside didn’t come out with the child.
Leon squinted his dark eyes. Did she say she carried Timmy for nine months? If he remembered correctly, Ian was also born prematurely, placed in an incubator at the hospital for half a month before his mother had the nanny bring him home.
Leon’s lips curved into a faint smile. There was no doubt Timmy was his son. He suddenly looked forward to the DNA results, curious to see Ivana’s reaction when presented with them.
At home, Ivana was frying steak and eggs for Timmy, while she made herself a bowl of instant noodles. She took off her apron and was just about to eat the noodles.
The phone rang; it was an unfamiliar number.
Ivana’s fingers shook, thinking it might be Leon. If he could find out where she and Timmy lived, of course, he could have her phone number.
After hesitating for a moment,
Ivana still answered: "Who is this?"
The mocking voice of Katherine came through the phone: "Miss Monroe, you really have poor memory for important people; we just saw each other at the office this morning."
Katherine went straight to the point, instructing her to go to Mrs. Vance’s house. She didn’t explain the specifics, only said that it was originally her job, but since Ivana planned to fire her, she was handing this over to Ivana. Before hanging up, she arrogantly added that she must arrive at Mrs. Vance’s house before one-thirty, or risk facing huge compensation losses.
After that, an address for Mrs. Vance’s house popped up on Ivana’s phone.
How could Ivana not realize the trick here? She looked at the time; there was only half an hour before one-thirty.
It would take at least twenty minutes to get to Mrs. Vance’s house by taxi, not including the time to find a cab.
"Mommy has to go to work. Be good and don’t open the door for strangers, understand?"
"I understand, Mommy, you haven’t eaten your noodles."
"Mommy will eat it when I get back tonight."
Ivana hurried downstairs, ran to the roadside, and waited a few minutes. No taxis came. Perhaps it was due to lunchtime when taxis took breaks.
A silver luxury gray Bugatti Veyron slowly stopped beside Ivana. The automatic window rolled down, revealing the driver’s perfect side profile to Ivana’s eyes.