Chapter 3

No sooner had I packed up the watch than Mr. Henderson came in with a package.

"Master Ryan, this package is a bit damaged. The delivery person required a signature. Could you please check if everything inside is alright?"

I took the package from Mr. Henderson, my mind puzzled. I hadn't ordered anything recently.

I instinctively knew it couldn't be Chloe's; she never bought things online. I personally purchased all her daily necessities; she wouldn't touch such things.

It wasn't until I saw the recipient's name on the shipping label that my shocked expression softened. It was indeed Chloe's package.

At Mr. Henderson's urging, I opened the box. Inside were two pairs of children's shoes.

Mr. Henderson looked equally surprised: "This... could it be that Miss Chloe is pregnant? Didn't she say she could never—"

Before Mr. Henderson could finish, Chloe’s call came through.

Her voice was hurried, laced with a hint of nervousness:

"Ryan, did a package just arrive at the house? Did you…"

I didn't wait for her to finish. I already knew what she was going to say. Looking at the children's shoes in the box, I calmly replied:

"Just got it. Don't worry, I've signed for it."

She paused, then after a long silence, said, "Good. Don't overthink it. Those are gifts for a friend's children. He helped me out a great deal before, and I'm just showing my appreciation."

A bitter laugh escaped me. They were clearly for Dylan’s twin boys, yet she still came up with such a flimsy excuse.

I couldn't help but snap back, "Is that friend named Dylan?"

At my words, Chloe’s tone instantly changed: "Ryan, what are you talking about? Are you mad I didn't spend your birthday with you? Didn't I promise you I'd make it up to you when I get back from my time off?"

"Stop dragging Dylan into everything! How many times do I have to tell you, we're just friends!"

I tightened my grip on the gift box, smiling as I asked, "Then why were you in such a hurry to call back? Aren't you just afraid I'll go confront Dylan?"

I expected her to explode, but she merely mumbled a few words:

"You're being completely unreasonable! I just didn't want you to overthink things when you saw it. I can't believe you'd think that of me. Looks like I worried about you for nothing!"

I was somewhat surprised. Before, whenever I mentioned Dylan in front of her, she’d ignite like a powder keg, ready to explode at the slightest spark.

But any lingering doubts vanished the next second when I heard a child's tender voice on the phone. Then I realized: she hadn't changed; she was just trying not to argue with me in front of the kids.

Before I could speak, she hung up, leaving me with a dead line.

She kept claiming that she and Dylan were just friends, yet she turned around and had children with him.

Were they really just friends?

Just then, Chloe’s Ragdoll cat, Maoqiu, suddenly ran over.

My eyes darkened. I immediately tried to leave, but it was too late. Red spots were already appearing on my arm.

In moments, the few scattered spots became a full-blown rash all over my body, itching intensely, even swelling.

I was highly allergic to cat fur, but Chloe still insisted on keeping the cat, simply because Dylan had given it to her.

I’d even given her the cold shoulder for a month over it.

She brushed it off, a look of disdain on her face:

"It's just a minor allergy, isn't it? I’ll buy you some allergy medicine, that’s all. Only a cold-hearted person like you would shut out such a cute cat!"

The swollen area on my body grew larger. I quickly went to find my allergy medicine.

But I rummaged through the medicine cabinet several times, and there was no allergy medicine inside.

My body felt worse and worse, even my breathing became difficult. My head felt increasingly heavy, and the next second, I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I overheard Mr. Henderson on the phone with Chloe.

Mr. Henderson was elderly and used the speakerphone when taking calls. Chloe’s cold voice crackled through the phone:

"It's just a minor allergy. Is it worth calling me in the middle of the night for this? Can't you just buy him some allergy medicine? You’ve been with the Thompson family for years; do I really need to teach you such things?"

"And by the way, don't bother me with trivial matters like this again!"

Through the crack in the door, I saw that before Mr. Henderson could speak, she had already hung up.

I chuckled to myself, a bitter, self-deprecating sound. I should have expected this outcome. What was I still hoping for?

Mr. Henderson entered the room, looking at me with a sympathetic expression.