Chapter 94

The nurse saw Jessica signing and, blinking in sympathy, lamented, "She's so beautiful—what a shame she can't speak."

Henry could read Jessica's sign language. She was telling the nurse that she was his mother. He tensed, terrified she'd use her voice synthesizer and reveal the

truth.

Annoyance crept into his voice. "What are you waving your hands around for? No one else understands your sign language."

Jessica pulled out her phone, intent on using her voice ring to speak.

But Henry snatched her phone away before she could, turning to the nurse with a bright, practiced smile. "Ma'am, she's our housekeeper. My dad likes a quiet home, so he hired someone who doesn't talk."

Jessica froze.

Did he just say she was the housekeeper?

She'd seen this plot play out on TV-sons, ashamed of their mothers after making something of themselves, introducing them to others as the help or distant relatives. The mothers never got angry; they'd just cry quietly, terrified of embarrassing their child.

despised those ungrateful sons with

that one day, she'd find herself in their

of those silent tears-the pain was like a knife

nurse gently wrapped gauze around Henry's arm and dabbed his

Henry, worried he might be scared

not a little kid anymore. I'm tough—I'm not

smiled approvingly.

and his brows furrowed, but he

mother for six years-she knew better than anyone when he was putting on a

the needle in place, Henry puffed up a little

his hair. "You did great, Henry. Last

nurse last time that Sheila was his mother, and

and he grinned. "Well, with your mom around, you're supposed to act a little

up, but then glanced at

my dad on a

clenched into fists before she could stop

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