Rebirth: Clinging to My Possessive Magnate

Chapter 1066: Overtime

Love, this tormenting little thing, really is hard to put into words."Okay, don’t worry, I’ll talk to Lucy, hint at it from the side." Sophie Wilson promised. "Kai, you’ve got to step up too, don’t let someone snatch Lucy away, or I’ll look down on you."

"Relax!" Kai Bright patted his chest in assurance. "The man who can steal a woman from your brother here hasn’t been born yet!"

Sophie Wilson laughed; at a time like this she didn’t have the heart to bully her brother anymore.

Her brother really didn’t have it easy either.

After hanging up, Sophie Wilson hugged her blanket and laughed. And he still told her not to worry?

If he were really that confident and not anxious, why would he call her?

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that her brother had the confidence, and that was good enough.

Looked like Uncle was giving her brother a little test.

Seeing the time at a glance, Sophie Wilson called Charles Seymour: "Mr. Seymour, why aren’t you back yet when it’s this late?"

"Something came up at the office," Charles Seymour said. "Benjamin Walton has made some moves recently, I need to sit down with people and work out a plan."

"Then don’t overwork yourself, your health comes first." Sophie Wilson said with concern.

"Mm." Charles Seymour agreed readily. "Go to bed early. If it gets too late on my end, I’ll just crash at the office."

"Okay, then I won’t bother you." Sophie Wilson hung up with a smile, then went to wash up and sleep.

On the other side, after Charles Seymour hung up the phone, he turned around and went into the room.

This wasn’t Seymour Corporation at all; it was clearly the Seymour Family’s old house.

Once inside, Old Mrs. Seymour was looking worriedly at the little one on the bed. His little face was flushed red; he was a child as exquisite as if carved from pink jade, yet he had a faint little frown from the fever.

Hearing the door open and close, the child opened his eyes—big, dark eyes like black grapes soaked in water, glistening as he looked at Charles Seymour. His petal-like, tender little mouth opened as he called out pitifully, "Daddy..."

Charles Seymour quickly took two steps forward, tucked the quilt snugly around the child, and soothed him in a low voice, "Daddy’s here."

"Mm..." The child whimpered uncomfortably from the fever.

Old Mrs. Seymour asked distressedly, "Should we put him on an IV drip?"

"No need." Charles Seymour shook his head. "His fever has already started to go down a bit."

"I’ll stay with him." Charles Seymour finished, glanced at Old Mrs. Seymour, and said, "Grandma, you go get some rest."

As he spoke, Charles Seymour wrapped the little boy snugly in the quilt and held him in his arms. His big hand patted him gently, and the soft voice he used to coax the sick child was completely different from his usual tone.

Seeing Charles Seymour like this, Old Mrs. Seymour let out a soft sigh, got up, and quietly left.

Back in the room, Old Mr. Seymour asked, "Is the boy asleep?"

"Not yet, Charles is coaxing him." Old Mrs. Seymour said, feeling miserable. "A child feels awful when he’s sick; the only person he wants is his dad."

Don’t look at how the child had been raised at their side usually; that was only in this recent period. To be precise, it had been since shortly before Sophie Wilson appeared.

Although Charles could almost always squeeze in time to come see him every day, and if he couldn’t make it he would video call, the boy still couldn’t do without his biological father.

"It’s fine, the boy’s in good health." Old Mr. Seymour felt sorry for him, but not to the point of losing his composure. "He’ll be fine after a night’s sleep."

"Mm." Old Mrs. Seymour didn’t know whether she should feel sorry or not—if the boy slept through the night, then Charles definitely wouldn’t be getting any sleep.