?Chapter 851:


    “Oh, thank goodness!” N breathed in relief and scooped Locke into her arms. “Sweetheart, look. Your daddy’s home!” She quickly handed the crying child to Ernest.


    “Daddy…” Locke whimpered, twisting his little body and curling up tightly in Ernest’s embrace.


    Ernest’s heart clenched as he held him close. “I’m sorry, Locke. Daddy’ste.”


    “Daddy.” Locke sniffled against his father’s chest. “I have a fever. I don’t feel good.”


    “Daddy knows.” Ernest gently stroked his back, and then carefullyid him down on the small bed. “Let’s take your medicine, alright? Once you do, the fever wille down, and you’ll feel much better. I promise.”


    “You’ll feed me?”


    “Yes, I will.”


    Locke sniffled. “Then I’ll take the medicine.”


    “Good boy,” Ernest said with a smile.


    N turned quickly to the servant. “Hurry, get the medicine ready again!”


    “Yes, Mrs. Flynn!” the servant answered.


    In no time, N handed the medicine to Ernest. “Here. Give it to him.” Ernest sat at the bedside and gently coaxed Locke as he fed him the medicine. The boy didn’t protest and drank it all immediately.


    N watched with a soft smile, though her chest tightened just a little. “Oh, look at that… Locke listens to you. I couldn’t get him to calm down at all.”


    Locke’s cheeks were still flushed with fever, but he clung tightly to Ernest’s hand.


    Seeing the way they were bonded, N stepped back with a knowing smile. “Now that you’re here, he can rest easy. We’ll leave you two alone.”


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    With that, she slipped out of the room with the servants, leaving the father and son in peace.


    Ernest sat at Locke’s bedside, carefully cing a fever patch on his forehead.


    “Daddy,” Locke said, his voice hoarse from the fever, “are you really my daddy?”


    Ernest froze for a second but then understood. He nodded slowly and answered, “Yes. I’m your daddy. Your real daddy.”


    Locke’s lower lip trembled. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Though still little, he knew those words meant something important.


    Sniffling, he looked up again. “Then, Daddy… where’s my mommy?” He hesitated, then added in a soft voice, “Not thatdy… I mean my real mommy. The one who gave birth to me.”


    Ernest stiffened.


    How was he supposed to answer that?


    He knew exactly who and where Locke’s real mother was. But the rtionship between them wasplicated—if there was ever a rtionship to begin with.


    “Daddy…” Locke whispered, his voice barely holding together. When no answer came, his mind filled the silence on its own. “Is my mommy… dead? Is she not around anymore?”


    “No, she’s not!” Ernest replied immediately.


    Elissa was very much alive. Just not well.


    Locke’s lips trembled again. “Then… does Mommy not like me?”


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