A faint chuckle echoed from the other end of the line.

Mindful of Brantley's presence, Elissa carefully navigated the conversation, steering clear of any hint of intimacy. Once the call ended, her tone turned stern again. "You know better than to miss that question."

Brantley gripped his pen, stealing a glance at Elissa before bowing his head to the task at hand.

He was incredibly well-behaved, hardly requiring any additional attention... But the underlying reason was rather disheartening. Most well-behaved children harbored a constant sense of insecurity.

In the quiet of the night, the maid roused Elissa from her sleep.

"Mrs. Jones, Brantley's having a nightmare. He keeps calling out for his mom."

With sleep still clinging to her eyes, Elissa hastily donned a robe and hurried to Brantley's side. There, in the dim light, Brantley tossed and turned, caught in the grips of unseen fears. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he whimpered for his mother.

Elissa's gentle touch confirmed her suspicions: Brantley was burning with fever.

In a flurry of concern, the maid suggested, "Should we call Mr. Jones?"

Elissa's response was swift. "He's just settled in Czanch. We can't disturb him now! Let's call the doctor, and if necessary, we'll hail a cab to the hospital right away.”

Elissa checked Brantley's temperature and gave him some medicine, but after thirty minutes, his fever persisted.

She felt his forehead, which was burning up.

Deciding it was best, she chose to take him to the hospital.

She softly caressed his cheek, gently called out his name, and quietly told him they needed to go to the hospital. Although only half-conscious, Brantley made an effort to get up and dress himself, determined to walk down the stairs by himself.

Elissa's heart ached seeing this.

She realized that despite his condition, he was trying to put on a brave face because she had been harsh with him. She ran her hand through Brantley's hair and held him close.

Brantley nestled into Elissa's arms, reluctant to let go.

He was burning up with fever and he began to cry, gripping her clothes tightly.

Looking down at him, Elissa comforted him gently, her heart growing heavier.

She had often been unfairly harsh on Brantley, yet it didn't really seem fair to the boy. After all, no one wanted to be an illegitimate child if given choices. In a tender voice, Elissa said, "Let's get you dressed, and I'll take you to the hospital."

The little boy opened his eyes, saw her clearly, and shivered as he tried to dress himself.

Elissa gathered his clothes, helping him to sit on the bed's edge, leaning against her. Although inexperienced with children, she displayed an unexpected adeptness, perhaps driven by instinct.

Brantley's cheeks were red with fever, and he seemed frail as he got out of bed. Yet, he insisted on walking by himself, not wanting to burden the maid.

He was thoughtful, aware that the maid was hired to take care of Elissa and her future baby; and he believed himself to be too big for her to carry.