Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 101

“Your own son?”

Charlotte shot Noah a cold, dismissive glance.

She retorted, “It’s spelled out clearly in our divorce agreement: I left with nothing and cut all ties with Noah. Are you suffering from memory loss, Mr. Harrington?”

Her words landed like a slap across Darren’s face.

Memories surged through Darren’s mind. He remembered when Noah was about two, how he’d accidentally bumped his hand on a chair, leaving only a small red mark. Charlotte had panicked, rushing around in a frenzy, searching for ointment. And the time Noah fell from his high chair—Charlotte’s eyes had been red for days as she secretly wiped away her tears, unable to stay calm whenever Noah got hurt.

But now, Noah’s wrist was bruised and she seemed to care only for someone else.

Darren glanced down at the injured boy. From the look of him, the kid was neither Herbert’s nor Charlotte’s. Yet Charlotte was fussing over this stranger while ignoring her own flesh and blood!

A sharp pang stabbed at Darren’s chest.

Herbert spoke up, “Charlotte, Noah’s wrist looks pretty bad...”

Charlotte’s voice was icy. “I barely used any strength. If there’s a bruise, he knows why. He has a mouth, he has eyes—if he can’t tell right from wrong, well, everyone has their fate.”

She’d given up everything to bring Noah into the world. She’d poured her heart into loving him. But he never cherished it. He’d even conspired with Xena to lure her into the sewers and tried to blow her up… With a son like that, she couldn’t do it anymore.

Without another glance at them, Charlotte took the boy’s hand and walked away from the fountain square.

As Herbert hurried after her, Darren called out coldly, “Mr. Nelson, remember to come to my wedding. I’ll make sure you get a front-row seat to the show.”

“Wedding?”

Herbert frowned. Darren smirked—Charlotte clearly hadn’t told him about the invitation.

Lowering his voice, Darren added, “Charlotte knows.”

Herbert’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t ask further. He strode off in Charlotte’s direction.

He knew Xena had grabbed him just to spite Charlotte, but that wasn’t the point. There was first-aid ointment in the glove compartment, easily within reach. Dad hadn’t bothered to put any on him. Xena hadn’t thought of it either.

Unbidden, an old memory surfaced: years ago, whenever he got hurt, Charlotte would crouch beside him, gently dabbing ointment on his scrapes. For as long as he could remember, she was the only one besides the doctor who ever cared for his wounds.

Thinking of that grimy little boy from today made his mood even worse.

***

Elsewhere, Charlotte and Herbert finished tending to the boy’s injuries.

Noticing he still hadn’t spoken a word, Charlotte took him for further tests. The diagnosis: congenital mutism.

Herbert suggested, “We should take him to the police station. His parents must be worried sick.”

Charlotte nodded in agreement.