Chapter 3 Look Into Her Case

Charles' eyes locked onto the woman, his gaze like ice—cold and piercing.His voice cut through the tense air, crisp and controlled. "There's no need for that. A parent's duty is to watch over their child." Behind him, Flint's voice rang out with sharp derision, full of disdain. "Exactly. Mr. Hensley's clothes are custom-tailored. Can you afford to replace them?" His words dripped with contempt, his gaze fixed on Jessica. No woman had ever dared approach Mr. Hensley this way. She was bold, perhaps too bold. Arthur, tugged along by his mother, could no longer hold his tongue. "It's just a pair of pants! I'll pay for them!" His voice rose in protest. He wasn't going to let his mother take the blame for his mistake. Charles' gaze shifted to the boy, his expression unreadable. His brow creased, a flicker of recognition stirring within him. There was something familiar about this child—something he couldn't quite place. Flint snorted. "A little brat like you? And you think you can pay?" His tone was mocking, laced with disbelief. Arthur scrambled to his little yellow duck backpack, fumbling to pull out a tiny piggy bank. He tipped the coins onto the ground, their sharp clink breaking the silence. "Here. Is this enough?" Charles glanced at the scattered coins, his impassive face softening ever so slightly. The faintest, almost imperceptible smile began to tug at the corner of his lips. "Keep your pocket money," he said, his voice no longer as cold. "Next time, be more careful where you walk." Arthur furrowed his brow, his small fists clenched. "Do you think I'm useless?" He glared up at Charles, defiance in his eyes. Jessica, sensing the tension had diminished, quickly pulled her son toward the exit. There was no need to prolong this. They weren't being held accountable, and it was best to leave before the situation could escalate. She muttered more apologies, her words quick and breathless. "I'm so sorry for the trouble. Truly." She repeated herself as she hastily gathered Arthur, her steps quickening as they passed Charles. The faintest scent, unfamiliar yet oddly nostalgic, drifted past his nose. He froze, his heart racing. His eyes narrowed, and he turned sharply to follow their retreating figures. By the time he looked back, they had already vanished into the crowd, a mere blur of movement. Their shapes disappeared into the chaos of the airport, yet Charles remained rooted to the spot, an unshakeable stillness enveloping him. Flint eyed him curiously, his voice hesitant. "Mr. Hensley ... are we making them pay?" Charles narrowed his piercing gaze, his eyes sharp and hawk-like, as his breath slowed. That scent ... how was it possible? He had encountered countless perfumes over the years, each woman leaving behind her own unique trace. But never had he found the one he was searching for—the scent that had danced just beyond his reach. "Find out who that woman is," he ordered, his voice cold and measured, each word deliberate and final. Flint, momentarily caught off guard by the command, hesitated but then nodded briskly. "Yes, sir." No woman had ever stirred Mr. Hensley's interest before, yet this one had. She was a mother, for heaven's sake. Could it be that Mr. Hensley had a taste for married women? The idea was almost unfathomable. Meanwhile, Jessica and her son stepped out of the airport, the cacophony of bustling travelers fading behind them as they hailed a cab. A strange unease gnawed at her. The man's presence lingered in her mind, a phantom shadow that she couldn't escape. She couldn't shake the sense that eyes were fixed on her, watching from the distance. By the time they reached Selene's home, she was already standing at the door, waiting eagerly. The moment Jessica stepped from the cab, Selene practically leaped forward, her arms wide in an embrace that was both warm and overwhelming. "Jessica! You're finally back! I've missed you so much!" The force of Selene's hug left Jessica breathless. She gasped, her ribs protesting against the tight hold. "Okay, okay, easy! You're squeezing me too hard; I can't breathe!" With a reluctant but affectionate smile, Selene loosened her grip, her eyes shimmering with the threat of tears. "Let me get a good look at you! A woman who's had a child—how much have you changed?" Stepping back, she appraised Jessica, her gaze appreciative. "Still got it, huh? You could definitely turn some heads for round two!" Her grin was wide, her admiration obvious. "Selene, what's ‘round two'?" Arthur, his little suitcase clutched tightly in his small hands, looked up at her, his innocent black eyes blinking with curiosity. Selene's face softened, a smile spreading across her features. "Oh, you must be Arthur! How did you get so handsome and sweet? You're definitely your mother's son!" She scooped him up without warning, pulling him into her embrace. Arthur's face twisted with alarm as he found himself trapped in her arms, and his tiny body squirming in a desperate attempt to escape. His eyes locked on his mother, a silent plea in their depths. "Mommy, help!" he cried. Jessica couldn't help but laugh, though she shook her head in exasperation. "She's your godmother, not some villain." "Exactly! Your godmother, little man!" Selene coaxed with a grin, squeezing him tighter. "Come on, say it—call me ‘godmom.'" Arthur crossed his arms and pouted, his voice stubborn and firm. "I want Daddy, not godmom."