?Chapter 705:


    In the garden…


    Linda stood with her back to Ernest, her posture rigid, her breath uneven. Her eyes, swollen and red, glistened with unshed tears.


    “Linda…” Ernest’s voice was quiet, steady. He leaned on his cane, his other hand holding out a neatly folded handkerchief.


    “Don’t cry,” he said gently.


    “This is my fault. If you’re upset, take it out on me.”


    “Take it out on you?” she repeated, her voice shaking with frustration. She took a step closer, her gaze piercing.


    “The child is three years old.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed through it. “Where is his mother? You have him living with Quentin—but where is that woman?”


    Ernest’s expression darkened. His brows knitted together as a familiar face shed through his mind. For a long, heavy moment, he said nothing. Then, jaw set, he met Linda’s eyes with unwavering resolve.


    “There is no woman,” he said firmly.


    “You expect me to believe that?” Linda snapped, her voice tinged with disbelief.


    “No woman? What? You had a child on your own?”


    “That’s not what I meant,” Ernest said, shaking his head.


    He exhaled, his gaze steady as he exined,


    “I mean that I only acknowledge the child. As for his mother… I don’t know who she is, nor do I have any intention of being tied to her.”


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    Linda froze, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.


    “You… you mean that?” she asked, her voice faltering.


    “Yes.” Ernest met her gaze with unwavering certainty. He lifted the handkerchief in his hand and, with deliberate gentleness, wiped away the lingering tears on her cheeks.


    “The child was never nned,” he murmured. “His mother means nothing to me—just a stranger who happened to exist in that moment. Why would I ever choose her over you?”


    His words were measured, spoken with rity and conviction.


    Something inside Linda cracked. Her eyes welled up again, fresh tears spilling over as emotion surged through her.


    “Now what?” Ernest exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re crying again…”


    “Ernest!”


    Before he could say another word, Lindaunched herself into his arms, gripping him tightly as if afraid he might slip away.


    “You said it,” she choked out between broken breaths. “You said it yourself! Promise me you’re not lying—please, don’t lie to me again!”


    Ernest looked down at her, the weight of her desperation pressing against him. A soft sigh escaped his lips before he finally lifted his arm, his embrace steady, reassuring.


    “Yes,” he murmured. “I said it myself. I won’t lie to you.”


    Linda let out a shaky breath.


    “Ernest, I can’t imagine a life without you! You’re all I have! Please don’t leave me!”


    His hold on her tightened just slightly, his voice low, unwavering.


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