And The Daddy Is… The Infertile Guy?!

Chapter 93

Gwendolyn hesitated a bit before turning her back to Howard. Her fingers grazed the edge of her coat as she slowly slid it off, along with her sweater, leaving her in just a bandeau.

Her smooth, pale back was all shocking scars.

Howard extended a gentle hand, carefully pulling strands of her long hair to drape over her shoulder. He scooped a generous dollop of ointment and began to spread it across her wounded back.

With the tip of his index finger, he delicately lifted the strap of her bandeau, spreading the ointment with slow, tender movements.

Gwendolyn shivered involuntarily. The coolness of the ointment was a welcome relief against the searing pain of her wounds.

“It’s the first time that a woman has taken a hit for me,” Howard said, his voice low and eyes clouded with a dark intensity that lingered.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and Gwendolyn found herself seated on his lap. She turned and glimpsed his expression, but a cold kiss fell upon her rounded shoulder.

“Mr. Chadwick…” Her hands instinctively covered her chest, her body tensing.

He embraced her from behind impulsively, his eyes closing, feeling a profound sense of calm wash over him.

countryside tomorrow,” he murmured against her neck, his breath warm on her skin.

return, always asking about

hospital already,” he assured her softly. He seemed weary, holding on to her as

letting

the internet exploded with a sensational headline. The Chadwick

whistle–blower presented irrefutable evidence of Howard’s rebellion, branding him the family’s black sheep. Accompanying photos showed Howard emerging from the Chadwick Mansion, battered and bruised.

his fate with the family’s ancestral mandate, a

of the Chadwick family had fallen from grace. Those who grew up

the

of Bayridge City, the socialites mocked Howard, who had always been the benchmark for others‘ children. At

made at a secluded booth in a dimly lit bar,

“Cheers!”

Mr. Bainbridge, the future head of the

Howard grovels, he can never

Bainbridge and Vivien, basking in their glow. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and