How to Destroy a Cheater Without Saying Goodbye novel Chapter 96

"Brother?"

Blanche stopped in her tracks. That familiar voice—she looked up and realized the man standing in front of her was Fernando.

Before she could react, little Terrell darted over and grabbed Fernando's hand. "Pretty lady, this is my dad."

"You're Terrell's father?" Blanche stared at him, stunned.

He had a child? And just a few days ago, he'd confessed his feelings to her—a married woman?

Terrell was in the same preschool class as Healy, about five years old.

Six years ago, Fernando had practically made a vow to dedicate his whole life to scientific research, claiming he'd never consider any romantic entanglements.

Back then, Blanche had admired his integrity, how honestly he'd turned away so many admirers.

But now, seeing Terrell, she realized he must have already had someone in his life at that time. That was the only way to explain a son Terrell's age.

Was he one of those celebrities who'd lie to the public just to protect his partner?

For Blanche, who'd always admired him, this wasn't just surprising—it was shattering.

Fernando caught the doubt flickering in Blanche's eyes. He hadn't planned to keep anything from her. "Yes," he said simply.

"Auntie, can you be my mom?" Terrell looked up at Blanche, gripping her hand, his face full of innocent hope.

"Terrell, sweetie, I'm Healy's mom. I can't be your mom." Blanche crouched down, her voice gentle, trying to explain. Terrell's lips trembled, disappointment clouding his eyes.

"Then… will you help me blow out my candles?" he asked softly, eyes shining with hope.

He really envied Healy—she had such a wonderful, pretty mom. And yet Healy never seemed to appreciate it, always complaining about her to Lara.

"Of course," Blanche said, ruffling Terrell's hair.

They gathered around the table—blowing out candles, cutting cake, watching Terrell and the other kids playing together, their laughter filling the room.

Blanche and Fernando sat off to the side, a heavy, awkward silence hanging between them.

"Where's Terrell's mom?" Blanche asked quietly.

"She was a war correspondent. She died," Fernando replied, his voice even, unreadable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something painful."

"Yes."

Her lashes fluttered as she spoke.

Fernando's big, calloused hand slid up her arm to rest firmly on her shoulder, gripping a little too tightly, his eyes shining with a boyish joy, as if he'd just received a treasured gift.

He caught the surprise in Blanche's face, realized what he was doing, and quickly let go. The strong, sharp lines of his face softened with a hint of awkward shyness, something Blanche never expected to see from him.

In Blanche's memory, Fernando had always seemed to care only about his research—unyielding, strict, the very picture of discipline.

Years of military training had given him a certain stoic toughness, adding an edge to his presence that made people instinctively respect him. Ever since he'd declared his life would be devoted to serving the greater good, no one had dared entertain romantic hopes about him.

"I'm so happy," he said quietly.

"I thought you'd never be able to let go of him."

"Laney, all I want is for you to leave him, to keep him from hurting you again."

"I'll wait for you—as long as it takes. I've already waited this long. What's a little more?"