Chapter 17

Based on Jonathan’s incomplete account, I pieced together the truth.

Gavin Sinclair threw dirt on me to break up, pulling a fast one with a classic setup. Tommy is indeed Jonathan’s child.

We married because of the pregnancy, but I grew to hate him for it. As a result, even after years of marriage, we continued to sleep in separate rooms.

“Mr. Chase, the weather’s getting cold. Let The Sinclair Group go bankrupt.”

Jonathan gave me an amused glance and said, “We reported it to the police at the time, but couldn’t find any evidence, and you vehemently denied it.”

In a way, Gavin, that dog, was quite a character. After all, he unknowingly took away my brainstem, leaving me brainless.

Such is the black history of life.

Jonathan and I chatted in the room for quite a while.

From extorting him for snacks during childhood to breaking Tommy’s toy car the day before yesterday.

“How did the nickname Tommy come about?”

Jonathan’s gaze shifted slightly, and he didn’t answer me immediately.

His lips moved a bit, and he said with some embarrassment, “It’s from Tom the cat.”

Tom, Tom?

I looked at the Tom pajamas casually draped over the chair and said nothing. Silly little cat, who wouldn’t love it?