Nicole shook her head. "Roscoe, let's not talk about this anymore," she insisted.

Nicole was firm in her decision to not involve Roscoe further. His assistance up to this point was more than enough. She felt it would be unfair to impose on him any further.

Roscoe rarely challenged Nicole's choices. At her rejection, a shadow of disappointment briefly crossed his face. “ALL right, but for the specific tasks at hand, I'll arrange for my uncle's reliable aide to help you."

"Roscoe, I really don't need..." Nicole started to protest.

“Nicole, on this issue, I must insist," Roscoe interrupted, reaching across the table to hold her hand, his eyes earnestly conveying his desire to swiftly resolve the problem.

Nicole's hand stayed motionless, her gaze lowered. Roscoe's hand was as perfect and appealing as his entire being. Her own hands and feet, always cold, found a comforting warmth in his touch, a balm to her spirit. Yet, it was this very warmth that made her reluctant to entangle Roscoe in the complexities and unpleasantness of her problems.

Nicole firmly pulled her hand away, ignoring the fleeting look of disappointment in Roscoe's eyes. "Roscoe, I want to handle this by myself. Could you please look after..." Her voice broke off, Leaving the name unsaid. Tears gathered in her eyes as she expressed her deep appreciation, "I'm so grateful to you."

Roscoe's response was almost imperceptible. “Nicole, Austin is doing well, better than you think, and he's stronger than you know. Once we find a good match, he'll definitely get better. Just focus on your goals."

Nicole lowered her head, her hands covering her face as she cried softly. "Thank you... Thank you so much," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. She was grateful that Roscoe had kept Austin from seeing the flaws in her. She felt she wasn't a good mother.

Austin was too innocent, and she felt too stained by her past.

Following the birth of Austin, Nicole was overwhelmed by a profound depression. This dark period led her to attempt to end her life on several occasions.

One night, in a moment of despair, Nicole found her hands wrapping around Austin's thin neck. The hope she had once felt for her son had turned into bitterness. She questioned why he continued to live.

Yet, as she tightened her grip, the sudden cries of her son pierced the silence, snapping her back to reality.

"How did I become so lost?" Nicole wondered.

Roscoe stood up and placed his hands on Nicole's shoulders, soothing her with gentle strokes. He waited patiently until her sobs subsided.

"Nicole, you've done nothing wrong. Don't blame yourself. I'm sure Austin wouldn't blame you either," he assured her, his gaze filled with unwavering support.

"You haven't done anything wrong. Don't doubt yourself," Roscoe reiterated, his voice firm. He then hugged her gently, with a touch so delicate it seemed he feared she might break.

After they had finished eating, Roscoe settled Nicole into the passenger seat before taking the wheel himself.

The vehicle halted outside a grand, high-end hotel.

“You're staying here?" Nicole inquired.