novelraw Chapter 421: In Those Crazy Nights, He Still Loved the Red Mole at the Corner of Her Eye
Chapter 421: In Those Crazy Nights, He Still Loved the Red Mole at the Corner of Her Eye
"Major General, you’re injured." Before Shuangzi could finish, she followed the Major General’s gaze toward the storefront, and suddenly, it was as if she’d seen a ghost—her eyes widened in shock. M-Major General’s wife?
Unbelieving, Shuangzi rubbed her eyes. It really was the Major General’s wife. When she looked back at the Major General, his gaze had turned into a deep, dark ink that couldn’t be dispersed, his whole body stretched tight like a bowstring on the verge of snapping.
How could this be possible? Hadn’t the Major General’s wife been in an accident eight years ago? The scene had been so horrific, even her remains couldn’t be found.
Richard Shaw gestured for his subordinates to stand down. The man stood silently amidst the shards of crystal, transitioning from his initial shock, disbelief, and despair to overwhelming joy and, finally, bitterness.
The commotion in the mall quickly drew a growing crowd’s attention. Casimir Shaw, who had just tried on a new outfit, spotted someone outside. Was that Old Shaw?
The young boy leapt in excitement, grabbed Leah, and darted outside, chirping sweetly, "Mommy, it’s Old Shaw! Old Shaw is here to find me!"
Leah quickly picked up the pile of paper bags on the ground. Her stunningly cold face let out a snort. Perfect timing. She wanted to ask this man exactly how he’d been taking care of their child. If he couldn’t manage it, she’d take her child back and raise him herself.
Casimir Shaw clung to Leah and ran out excitedly, shouting, "Old Shaw, we’re here! Why are you only coming now? I’ve been waiting so long!"
"Old Shaw! Old Shaw, I found Mommy!" The boy’s tone was bursting with pride, his imaginary tail practically wagging in joy. Old Shaw had spent eight years unable to locate the lost Mommy, but he had managed to find her!
The man in the wheelchair sat there unmoving, his expression cold and rigid, devoid of any hint of emotion. He looked even more ruthless and imperious than usual, his eyes unfathomably deep and greedy as they fixed on the approaching woman. She was still stunning—her beautiful face bold and vibrant, her long hair lazily cascading, and even the red mole at the corner of her eye was exactly as it had been. In those wild, fevered nights of the past, he had cherished that tiny red mole, kissing it over and over.
"Which one of you is Old Shaw?" Leah’s face turned slightly chilly as she stared at the two men standing like wooden posts before her. Her gaze lingered on the resolute man in the wheelchair, instinctively determining he must be Old Shaw.
She hadn’t even finished speaking when the two wooden posts grew eerily silent.
"W-Wife?" Shuangzi stammered, tongue-tied with fear. It really was the Major General’s living wife. But why didn’t she recognize them?
"How can you be so careless with a child? Losing such a young kid without even realizing—do you know how chaotic this society is now? If you don’t care, aren’t paying attention, or don’t want this child, then fine, I’ll take him back and raise him myself!" Leah lectured them coldly.
"Alright." The man who had been silent all along suddenly spoke. His voice was incomprehensibly hoarse and subdued, tinged with a quiet, steely determination.
Leah’s eyes widened in shock, and so did Casimir’s.
The child was hers now?
Old Shaw didn’t want him anymore?
"Old Shaw, are you sick?" Casimir’s tone turned slightly aggrieved as he stepped forward to tug on Old Shaw’s sleeve. He noticed that Old Shaw’s hand was trembling badly and that his complexion was also dreadful. He hadn’t scolded him yet or spanked him, which made Casimir anxious. He grabbed Leah hurriedly and exclaimed, "Mommy, Old Shaw is sick again! Every time he gets sick, it’s really painful. If you don’t believe me, just touch him and see!"
With that, Casimir took Leah’s hand and placed it on Old Shaw’s hand. Every time Old Shaw was sick, he would touch Casimir’s forehead—or his hand—like this.
Caught off guard, Leah’s hand brushed against the formidable man in the wheelchair. His hand was ice-cold, and his aura was as vast and profound as the sea, suffocatingly oppressive. She pulled her hand back quickly, her heartbeat accelerating as she stammered, "Then take him to the hospital."