Jarvis remained silent, and the room was enveloped in a deathly hush.
Suddenly, a tender cry reached my ears. I turned to see Lucas’s face flushed red from crying.
“Mommy, don’t you want me anymore? It hurts,” he pouted, reaching out for me to hold him.
Over the past two years, Lucas, who had been spoiled rotten by the Walker family, had become incredibly delicate. For his future, I had to play the role of the strict mother.
Because of my sternness, he had repeatedly declared that I was the person he disliked the most.
Perhaps sensing my coldness, this was the first time Lucas refused to be held by Jarvis and insisted on me.
“Ashley, are you really going to abandon your own son over some unfounded suspicion? Don’t forget, you saw him born with your own eyes.” Jarvis’s brow furrowed deeply, his tone growing harsher as he looked at Lucas, who was gasping between sobs.
With Jarvis’s help, Lucas clung to me, grabbing my clothes and snuggling in. Once he had calmed down, he returned to his usual defiant self, pouting and calling me a bad mommy.
He took advantage of my unconditional love, misbehaving and throwing tantrums. Jarvis had told him that I was the most loving person in the world and would never abandon him.
In the past, I would have comforted him with patience and affection, but now my head throbbed with pain, and I lacked the strength to even reach out.
I couldn’t imagine what I would do if Lucas truly wasn’t my biological child. How would I face him then?
Lucas resembled Jarvis so much that even when people said he didn’t look like me, I assumed he had just inherited his father’s features.
In just a year, the once sweet and lovable Lucas had become the selfish and domineering child he was now. I had to acknowledge the influence of genetics.
After taking Lucas’s hair, I placed the sleeping boy back in bed, ignored Jarvis, and walked out of the room.
Somewhere along the way, communication between Jarvis and me had dwindled, and our arguments over Lucas’s upbringing had become countless.
When I received the DNA test report, my hands were trembling. As I saw the data confirming no biological connection, my vision blurred, and I lost consciousness.
Forgotten memories surged into my mind, with Lucas’s repeated call for a "pretty auntie" echoing in my ears.
He said I was a bad mommy, that he didn’t want me anymore, and that he wanted the pretty auntie to be his mother.
At the time, I thought it was just childish nonsense, but now it all seemed to fit together.
I remembered once refusing his unreasonable demand, and he threw a tantrum, insisting on packing his bags and having Jarvis take him to Atlanta to find the pretty auntie, saying she was his real mother.
"Who is the pretty auntie?" I asked, my eyelids twitching as I gripped his shoulders, demanding an answer.
Perhaps my stern expression made him nervous, as he covered his mouth and refused to speak.
That was the first time I had hit him, and from that moment on, Lucas’s tantrums escalated. He allied with Jarvis, keeping everything from me.