Chapter 5

He furrowed his brow but ultimately didn't open the door.

Having been disturbed by the child all night, he had a splitting headache and was utterly exhausted, yet his mind was exceptionally clear, and he felt no desire to sleep.

He went to the master bedroom and took a shower.

Meanwhile, after calming the child to sleep, Blanchie tiptoed out to the living room, planning to pour herself a glass of water.

After all, she hadn't eaten anything for most of the day and was both startled and scared, which had drained her energy.

However, just as she gently closed the door, she saw Allen sitting coldly on the sofa, with a first aid kit on the table.

He raised his eyes without a hint of warmth, his tone indifferent, "Come here, let me treat your wounds."

At that moment, Blanchie wanted nothing more than to stab him; she had no intention of letting him treat her wounds.

But not daring to confront him openly, she had to suppress her anger and replied softly, "It's just a small scrape; it's nothing serious."

Allen opened the first aid kit, his voice cold and stern, "Do you want the child to hear?"

The child was not just Blanchie's soft spot; he was her Achilles' heel.

Sure enough, her anger instantly dissipated, and she took a few steps forward, sitting next to Allen.

Allen took out some alcohol to disinfect her wounds and then sprinkled on some powder.

Throughout the entire process, the once delicate Blanchie didn't cry out in pain; she didn't even furrow her brow.

After applying the medicine, Allen methodically put everything back in the kit.

His fingers were long and well-proportioned, with distinct joints, quite attractive.

But Blanchie had no mind to appreciate it.

Her throat felt as if it had been poisoned, dry and uncomfortable.

Just as she was about to stand up to get a glass of water, her wrist was suddenly grasped tightly.

Allen yanked her, pinning her down on the sofa.

With him on top and her below, their eyes met—Blanchie's gaze was cold and filled with hatred, while Allen's eyes burned with a deeper resentment.

Just as Blanchie was about to speak, Allen unexpectedly pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss was almost aggressive, fiery and suffocating.

It wasn't until Blanchie was nearly out of breath that Allen slowly released her.

He was satisfied with her usual inexperienced reaction, reaching out to rub her swollen lips with his finger, his gaze intense as he said slowly, "You can't bear to part with the child?"

Blanchie wanted to roll her eyes at him.

The child was born after she had gone through hell and high water, raised day and night, changing diapers and dealing with everything that came with motherhood. How could she possibly let go?

Not even a hundred Allens could compare to one Jason in her heart.

Yet, she loved Allen deeply.

Yes, she loved him dearly.

With a thousand words unspoken, Blanchie simply nodded.

Allen sneered, suppressing the burning desire in his eyes: "As long as you make me happy, I can let you stay as a nanny."

Blanchie's eyes brightened. If she could be the child's nanny, there would still be many opportunities to take him away.

After all, she no longer cared about the Davis family.

She raised her eyes to meet his gaze: "How do I make you happy?"

Allen chuckled coldly, his tone icy: "Do you need me to teach you how to please a man?"

Blanchie was proud by nature, and if it had been in the past, his words would have earned him a slap.

However, Allen underestimated the weight of a child in a mother's heart.

Without even thinking, Blanchie reached out and tugged at Allen's bathrobe tie—

Allen's gaze darkened, and the feelings he had suppressed for five years could no longer be contained. He swept Blanchie up in his arms and headed toward the bedroom.

Blanchie was used to waking up early.

Even after the extraordinary and thrilling events of the previous day, her biological clock remained unaffected.

She tiptoed out of bed, gently closed the bedroom door, and cautiously made her way downstairs.

There were servants downstairs, but they were all very polite to her.

Blanchie felt quite uneasy, but she steeled herself and went into the kitchen to make breakfast for her child and herself.

She made egg sandwiches, moving with practiced ease, and the taste was excellent.

Just as the sandwiches were finished, she heard her son's voice at the kitchen door: "Mommy!"

Jason had already washed up, having been woken by Allen. His eyes were still a bit red from crying the night before.

Allen was momentarily distracted by the sight of Blanchie in an apron.

"I want to change his kindergarten," he said softly.

Blanchie frowned and replied, "This semester is almost over. Can we wait until next semester to change? It wouldn't be good for the child."

Jason broke free from Allen's grip, ran over, and tightly hugged Blanchie's leg, burying his head in her embrace as he whispered, "Mommy, I don't want to change kindergartens. Can I not have Daddy anymore?"

The child sounded wronged but was too afraid to cry out loud, his pitiful appearance made Blanchie's heart ache.

"Jason Smith, that's your new name," Allen said succinctly, looking at the child. "You are a member of the Smith family, and you need to learn to accept reality. It's for your own good, as well as your mommy's."

With that, he turned and left the kitchen.

Once Allen was gone, Blanchie squatted down and leaned close to her son's ear, whispering a few words.

After she spoke, Jason's dull eyes brightened, sparkling with excitement. He nodded heavily and affectionately linked pinkies with Blanchie.

"Alright, go wait outside. Mommy will bring out breakfast," Blanchie said gently.

Jason happily ran out.

In the living room, Allen was sipping coffee while looking at his computer.

When he saw Jason come out, clearly more excited than before, a flicker of emotion passed through his deep-set eyes. However, he remained expressionless, making it hard to discern his feelings.

At that moment, Blanchie brought out the breakfast.

"Sweetheart, come here! Here are your favorite sandwiches and steamed eggs with orange."

Jason dashed over eagerly.

The two of them sat down, chatting and laughing softly while enjoying their sandwiches.

Allen sat there for quite a while, and only after they had eaten half of their meal did he put down his tablet with a cold expression and ask in a frosty tone, "What about mine?"

As soon as he spoke, Blanchie and Jason's expressions turned awkward.

Blanchie didn't dare to meet his gaze, weakly replying, "You… you had the servants prepare yours, didn't you?"

Implying that there was nothing prepared for him!

Allen felt a pang of bitterness rising in him, glancing coldly at Blanchie and Jason, who both had greasy smiles on their faces, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"Daddy, how about I share mine with you? I can't finish all of this," Jason offered, although he had no fondness for this father figure. However, since Mommy had said to appease him first, he cleverly offered his sandwich.

Blanchie couldn't let her child go hungry. She quickly assessed the situation and said, "No, no, sweetheart, you eat first. I'll go make another one."

Just as Blanchie stood up, a clear voice rang out from outside the door: "Allen, have you had breakfast? I made some light snacks."

Blanchie turned to see who it was.

It was Leslie.

Blanchie couldn't muster a pleasant expression for the woman trying to take her son away. Her demeanor was somewhat stiff as she sat back down and continued eating her sandwich.

Seeing this, Allen felt a surge of anger inside him.

He stood up and walked over to Leslie, taking the thermal box from her hands, his voice gentle as he asked, "Why did you come so early?"

Leslie smiled gracefully and replied softly, "Did you forget? Today is our wedding dress fitting day, so of course, I had to come early."

When she mentioned the wedding dress fitting, Allen instinctively glanced at Blanchie's face.

Unfortunately, Blanchie showed no reaction; she was gently wiping the corner of Jason's mouth.

Once Jason finished eating, Blanchie pulled him up and looked at Allen. "Since you have things to do, I'll take Jason to kindergarten first."

As she was about to leave, Allen suddenly grasped her wrist.

His hand was hot, and he held it tightly. Blanchie's calm heart suddenly raced, and a strange flush appeared on her face.

She was a bit afraid that Allen would do something inappropriate at that moment.

After all, he had a fiancée. Although she was merely stalling for her son, it still filled her with shame.

"I'll take him. You can accompany Leslie for the fitting and give your opinions. After all, you're a top graduate in fashion design," Allen said slowly and deliberately.

Leslie seemed oblivious to the tension between them, smiling pleasantly as she said, "That would be wonderful. With Miss Blanchie's help, I'm sure we can find the perfect wedding dress."

Jason had no interest in accompanying his father's current partner to choose a wedding dress. Just as Blanchie was about to refuse, Allen seemed to see through her thoughts.