"Could you exin the inspiration behind your papercutting design?"


    The host couldn''t understand signnguage.


    But Henry could.


    Yet he kept silent. He didn''t want to answer Jessica using signnguage, not in front of everyone.


    His nerves were stretched too thin-he was terrified someone would connect the dots between him and Jessica.


    One of his ssmates'' mothers was here today. If she realized Jessica was actually his mom...


    His problem was no longer that his mother couldn''t speak, but that he''d been lying to everyone.


    That''s the trouble with lies: tell one, and you''ll need a thousand more to keep it covered.


    The host noticed Jessica using signnguage and turned to Henry in surprise. "Henry, do you know Miss Jessica Greene? She''s using signnguage to ask you something—can you understand signnguage? That''s amazing! Would you mind tranting what she just asked?"


    The host held the microphone out to Henry, and the entire room waited for his


    answer.


    Henry was furious.


    His mom knew he was in this papercutting contest, yet she''d stille as the head judge. As if that wasn''t bad enough, now she was intentionally using signnguage to speak to him.


    He decided to brazen it out. "I''m sorry, I don''t understand what the judge is saying."


    The host, clueless, withdrew the mic and turned to Jessica. "Miss Jessica Greene, could you please use your speech device to ask your question? Henry doesn''t know signnguage."


    Just then, Herbert stood up, but before he could make a move, Timothy was already on his feet. He strode over to Jessica, coldly ring at Henry.


    Timothy leaned over the table, one arm resting protectively behind Jessica, his voice low andmanding as he spoke into the microphone. "I can understand signnguage. I''ll trante for Miss Jessica Greene."


    Jessica found herself wrapped in Timothy''s arms, and for a moment, the room''s atmosphere turned tense and strange.


    Vince raised an eyebrow.


    Marquis stared,pletely baffled by Timothy''s actions.


    Henry, standing on stage, felt sweat breaking out across his forehead. He had no


    idea what his father was nning.


    Timothy''s voice, cold and forceful, echoed through the hall.


    "Henry, Miss Jessica Greene wants to know the inspiration behind your papercutting design."


    The image Henry had made-amb kneeling to nurse-had infuriated Timothy.


    If Henry understood the greatness of a mother''s love, how could he stand here and pretend he didn''t know signnguage?


    Vince had been right: when a child makes a mistake, you need to correct it immediately.


    Lately, Henry had been nothing but a disappointment.


    Suddenly, standing there under the harsh lights and everyone''s eyes, Henry burst into tears.


    The host hurried over tofort him.


    Timothy''s voice cut through the noise, stern and unyielding. "Stop crying."


    She jumped to her feet and rushed


    Ine


    over, her voice urgent. "Timothy, what are you doing? He''s just a childAre you trying to scar him for life in front of all these people?"


    Timothy''s lips were pressed into a hard, thin line. At his rebuke, Henry choked back his sobs, but tears still trembled on hisshes.


    Looking at his son''s small, trembling shoulders, Timothy felt an ache he couldn''t ignore.


    Henry was Jessica''s darling, but he was his as well.


    He remembered the moment Henry was carried out of the delivery room, the first time he''d ever truly felt what it meant to be a father. Hard as he tried, even he had teared up.


    After the host had calmed Henry


    down, he turned, all business, to Timothy "Mr. Lawson, I''m sorry, but you''re not a judge. Please don''t disrupt our contest-would you mind returning to your seat?"


    She spoke in a low voice, "Timothy, if Henry''s done something wrong, or if he''s upset you, you can deal with it at home. There are so many people here-do you really want to risk leaving him with dasting scars?"