?Chapter 1471:


    Beholding Locke’s face, Elissa experienced both exquisite tenderness and profound anguish mingling in her chest. This child—beautiful, living miracle—was her son.


    “Miss Hond.” Locke’s lower lip protruded dramatically, his toneden with childish indignation. “You disappeared for two whole days!”


    He cast an usatory nce toward Ernest before burrowing deeper against Elissa’s chest, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Dad’s mean. He’s useless with homework help, and he says my memorization is slower than a snail… Humph.”


    “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Elissa dipped her head to press her lips against Locke’s plump, velvet-soft cheek. “I haven’t been feeling my besttely.” The half-truth tasted bitter on her tongue.


    “Were you sick, Miss Hond?” Concern etched tiny wrinkles between Locke’s eyebrows as he studied her face intently. “Did you take medicine? Has the doctor made you all better?”


    “Yes, darling. I’mpletely recovered.”


    Elissa forced a reassuring smile, hoisting Locke higher in her arms as she ascended the staircase.


    Mother and son—though only one was aware of the sacred bond—huddled close, exchanging secrets and giggles, Ernest’s presence fading to insignificance behind them.


    After helping Locke finish his homework, Elissa left his room and descended the stairs.


    Just as she’d anticipated, Ernest’s solitary figure upied the living room sofa, clearly awaiting her appearance.


    “Mr. Flynn.” Elissa broke the silence before he could speak. “We need to discuss several matters.”


    Ernest was visibly startled at her directness, hisposed facade momentarily slipping. “Of course. Please.”


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    They positioned themselves on opposite chairs in an intimate drawing room, the ticking clock the only sound between them.


    “Please, make yourselffortable, Elissa.” Ernest set a steaming cup before her andunched into his apology, his voiceden with remorse. “I cannot express the depth of my regret. Your hatred and me are entirely justified.”


    Elissa offered no contradiction. “I would be dishonest to im I harbor no resentment or usations toward you.”<fn028a> The source of th?s content is </fn028a>


    Yet a weary exhale escaped her lips, the sound of someone surrendering toplicated truths.


    “Yet the fact remained that on that fateful night, I was the one who mistakenly entered the incorrect room.”


    If assigning culpability, she could no longer position herself as entirely meless in the equation.


    A spark of unmistakable hope ignited in Ernest’s gaze, transforming his entire demeanor.


    “Mr. Flynn,” she stated firmly,


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