?Chapter 2814:


    “It’s hard to say. Children get issues now and then as they grow. If the fever breaks overnight, there’s little to worry about. But if it continues, you’ll need to bring him to the hospital for further tests.”


    Lines creased Ernest’s forehead as he absorbed the words.


    “I understand.”


    When the call ended, he handed the phone back to the servant with a quiet nod.


    “Clear the room.”


    “Yes, Mr. Flynn.”


    Silence settled quickly after the servants left.


    Lowering his gaze, Ernest studied the small figure resting in his arms. Locke whimpered faintly, his eyelids lifting just enough to reveal a weak glimmer.


    “Locke?”


    “Daddy.” The fever left Locke’s voice rough and fragile, as if it might break.


    “I don’t feel well.”


    “You’re burning up,” Ernest murmured, brushing the sweat from the boy’s temple.


    “But you’ve already had medicine. It’ll help bring the fever down.”


    The doctor’s words echoed in his mind—if the fever eased, there would be no cause for rm.


    “Tell me, how do you feel now?”


    “I’m thirsty.” Locke’s lips pushed into a small pout.


    “Okay.”


    Still holding him close, Ernest reached for a cup and carefully offered it to him.


    “Here. Have a sip, Locke.”


    “Thanks, Daddy.” Locke cupped it in both hands and drank eagerly.


    Watching him, Ernest couldn’t help noticing how unusually considerate Locke was. The nannies always said he was easy to care for—never demanding, never difficult.


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    “Do you feel a little better now, son?”


    “Yes, Daddy.”


    The difference was clear. Earlier, he could barely lift his eyelids, but now a trace of strength had returned. Ernest felt a flicker of relief.


    “Would you rather lie down in bed, or stay with me like this?”


    “Stay with Daddy.” Locke reached up and wrapped his arms around Ernest’s neck, clinging tightly.


    A faint smile tugged at Ernest’s lips.


    “Then Daddy will hold you. Close your eyes now, my boy. When you wake up, you’ll feel much better.”


    “Alright.” Locke obeyed and rested his head against his father’s shoulder, yet his wide eyes remained open, watching quietly.


    “Locke?” Ernest tilted his head, puzzled.


    “Why are you still awake?”


    “Daddy, I miss Mommy,” Locke whispered, his voice hoarse and small, his mouth still in a pout.


    He looked up at his father.


    “Do you miss her too?”


    The question caught Ernest off guard, leaving him silent for a moment.


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