The Leclair family patriarch still wanted to continue nagging, but Ignatius Leclair subtly shifted the topic and hung up the phone. He squinted at Delphine, who was feigning sleep.
The sky had just started to brighten, and sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains. The woman nestled in his arms revealed a swan-like neck, her skin as luminous as snow.
Ignatius instinctively reached out to stroke her long hair. The strands were soft under his touch, brushing against his palm, and only then did he remember that she had cut her raven-black hair short a few days ago.
The man's expression grew a touch melancholic as he recalled Griffith Squire's earlier words. Did Delphine truly have a child, or was Griffith just spouting nonsense?
Besides, she had never mentioned it in all these years. It couldn't be such a coincidence.
There was still a thorn lodged deep in Ignatius's heart. In a low voice, he said, "Delphine, have a child with me."
