Driven by greed, he had accepted a bribe from Leonel to relay updates. The potential repercussions from Waylen and Rena, should they discover this, were dire.

Just as he pocketed his phone, he noticed Waylen at the doorway.

He couldn't tell how much Waylen had heard.

His hands shook, and he struggled to find his voice, well aware of Waylen's strict principles and formidable demeanor.

Waylen's gaze was intense.

Silence lingered before he approached the servant. Reaching into his trousers, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes and extracted one. “Jack, could I borrow your lighter?"

While feigning grievance, Waylen murmured, “My wife keeps such a tight leash on me, I hardly dare to smoke around her. It's Edwin who slipped me this pack."

Jack Brown realized he was not in immediate danger.

He quickly produced a lighter, ignited Waylen's cigarette, and remarked, "Mrs. Fowler is just looking out for your health."

Holding the cigarette between his fingers, Waylen narrowed his eyes, a shadow of his younger self.

He smiled, Lightly clapping Jack on the shoulder. “You're right. Ah, just don't let my wife know."

Jack quickly assured, “Don't worry. I won't tell her."

Waylen exited the kitchen and strolled through the misty yard, a wisp of gray smoke curling around the cigarette between his fingers.

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, as memories of the past surfaced.

That year, Waylen had brought Leonel home, declaring it his new home.

He had given Leonel the choice to call him dad or uncle...

Waylen had specifically chosen Leonel, ostensibly because of his rare Rh-negative blood type. But the truth was, if Waylen hadn't genuinely cared for him, why would he have brought the boy home and let him call him dad? After all, despite the value of Rh-negative blood, it was just hard to find, not impossible.

Moreover, there was that incident when Leonel was in elementary school, and had lost a significant amount of blood.

It was Waylen who donated 800 milliliters of his own blood for the transfusion-the maximum safe amount for a single donation. Such an act was not characteristic of the reserved Waylen, unless he truly saw Leonel as his son.

Crossing the yard, Waylen rounded the corner and his gaze fell on the familiar black off-road vehicle parked outside.