The Widower's Fury - Chapter 2

I could hear my niece crying before I even reached the principal’s office.

I hurried inside, scooped her into my arms, and gently squeezed her cheeks to calm her down.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. What happened?”

“What sort of family teaches a child to snatch things?”

The voice was familiar. Cool and clear.

Slowly, I turned and met Song She’s eyes.

He was seated beside his son. A scratch marked the boy’s face.

When the child saw me holding my niece, he turned away and buried his face in Song She’s suit jacket.

When he lifted his head again, he’d left a wet imprint of his crying face on the fabric.

It looked absurd.

The teacher played the security footage.

My niece had run over to play with him. Everything seemed fine, and then, a moment later, they were fighting.

She was so well behaved at home. I couldn’t believe she’d hurt someone unprovoked.

“Mr. Song,” I said in her defense, “let’s hear both children out. There must have been a misunderstanding.”

“What exactly were you fighting over?”

My niece wailed, “You!”

“He said you were his mommy! So I hit him!”

The little boy stared at us, his face cold, tears falling without a sound.

Hearing the reason, Song She frowned and looked to his son for confirmation.

“Because of her?”

“What on earth makes you think she’s your mother? My wife could never be someone like that.”

At that, the boy began crying so hard his nose ran.

Song She remained aloof and told him to deal with it himself.

I couldn’t bear to watch. I offered him a handkerchief.

He looked up at me and accepted it, carefully tucking it into his pocket. Then he wiped his tears and snot on Song She instead.

His father stayed expressionless. A vein bulged at his temple.

“We’ll cover the medical expenses,” I told Song She.

“You can’t afford them.”

He pulled his son to his feet and looked down at me.

“Besides, I’ve been using an alias here in Nan City. Yet you called me Mr. Song?”

“Whatever you’re scheming, stop. Stay away from my son, and don’t dream of getting into the Song family.”

Father and son left the office.

My back was still cold with fear.

My niece timidly asked what we should do. I comforted her, but inside, I was uneasy.

Song She was supposed to be in Jing City. Why had he brought his child to Nan City to settle here?

If necessary, I’d have to move out of my brother’s house.

The moment I made up my mind, I started looking for a nanny for my niece.

Then an unexpected call came late that night.

The man’s husky voice on the other end made my spine tremble.

“I’ll have to trouble you to come over. My son’s wound is inflamed. He refuses to let us change the dressing. He keeps asking for you.”

The Song family’s driver soon delivered me to their door.

At the sight of the hillside estate, I stopped short.

No wonder Song She had looked so disgusted with my fifty-square-meter rental when I’d kept him there. He’d complained that the place was cramped, with barely any room to move.

“If I ever drag you back to my house,” he’d said, “you’ll see how I actually live.”

I’d thought it was just a beastman’s vanity talking.

Looking at the Song estate, which covered more than ten thousand square meters, I reassured myself.

Thank goodness he’d lost his memory.

Thank goodness he didn’t remember my face.

I took a deep breath and entered. Someone led me to the child’s bedroom, where a doctor disinfected my hands and feet at the door, looking thoroughly skeptical.

“The young master keeps struggling. Please be careful. He may not let you touch him.”

Song She sat at the bedside, exhausted. He gestured at me.

“Hurry.”

The little boy lay frowning on the bed, the handkerchief I’d given him clutched to his chest.

The wound on his face had reddened.

Holding an antiseptic swab, I approached cautiously.

The child opened his eyes at once, his gaze sharp and cold.

“Get…”

Then he recognized me and changed course mid-sentence.

“Get out, Daddy.”

He pointed at Song She and stammered, “Daddy, c-could you please go outside?”

Song She frowned and warned me under his breath.

“There are cameras in here. Don’t try anything with my son.”

Then it was just the boy and me.

Before I could apply the medicine, he crawled over to the medical kit and busied himself dabbing it on his face.

After a while, he lifted his chin toward me, as though waiting for praise.

“I can do it myself! You’re not tired, are you?”

I looked at him. “Then why did you ask me to come?”

“I have a name. It’s Song Si’an.” He shyly held one of my fingers. “You smell so much like Mommy.”

“Do you already have a husband and a baby? That’s okay. More is better. My daddy’s really good at things.”

Song Si’an nodded earnestly.

“I’m good, too. I can rub your shoulders and feed you breakfast…”

I shook my head, cutting him off.

“Si’an, I’m sorry.”

The little boy went quiet. He was clever enough to understand what I meant.

Then his tears began to fall, one after another, like beads spilling from a broken string.

Every one of them landed like an ache in my chest.

But his father, Song She, had been so furious with me that he’d lost his memory.

If it came back…

He’d pay me back tenfold.

How could the head of the Song family tolerate being shut in a rental and pushed around by me for half a month?

With the Songs, his child would have wealth and comfort for life.

I stood to leave, fighting the urge to wipe Song Si’an’s tears.

Then the door opened.

Song She entered with a chill about him. He glanced at his son, who was still crying so helplessly, then looked coldly at me.

“To stop him mistaking random people for his birth mother, I’ve just had a sample taken from you. The maternity test results will be here shortly.”

When I remained standing, he motioned to a seat.

“Sit down and wait.”

I struggled to sound calm.

“…Could you tell me where the bathroom is?”

The little boy hopped off the bed and tugged my sleeve.

“I’ll show you. It’s easy to get lost here.”

Behind us, Song She drawled, “Impressive tactics.”

“Once the results are out, Miss Qiao, please stay away from both of us.”