"Tired?" A worried voice spoke behind her before she felt gentle hands on her shoulders, tender and affectionate.

Looking at the few remaining guests, she saw many familiar faces. Friends who truly cared and wanted to share this special moment with them.

On the other hand, she also watched some guests who were just here to take advantage of the celebration. They saw this gathering as a means to further their own agenda, but not to celebrate Caleb’s recovery.

"Exhausted." She responded before tilting her head to the man standing behind her with a sweet smile. Slowly, she leaned her head on his hand, resting her cheeks on his knuckles, finding comfort in his warmth.

In front of her, she watched her son, who had been fighting all signs of sleep as he basked in the attention of his grandparents.

"Look at him. He had already yawned three times, but claims he was still not sleepy." She whispered to her husband’s ear when he lowered himself on her side, sitting comfortably beside her.

Oliver grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers so softly, as if afraid that she would break. But they both knew that she was not delicate. On the contrary, she was as tough as nails.

"I think we both know where he got that wilfulness from," Oliver proudly said, looking up to stare into her eyes.

"Who else?" Of course, it could only be her husband. If not for their age and size difference, Oliver and Caleb could have been the same person.

The same handsome face, mysterious eyes, mischievous smile, and stubborn expression. Even without genetic testing, there was no denying that Caleb was Oliver’s son.

Although a part of her wished Caleb had taken a trait from her. But, of course, that was just wistful thinking. How could he when they didn’t even share a drop of blood?

Then, Ashley’s words echoed in her ears. "You look more like Caleb than she ever did."

Did she?

For the first time, she studied Caleb’s face, searching his features for any semblance to her. It was true, Caleb was a clone of his father, but now that she thought about it, he did possess some of her features, like his hair.

Caleb’s hair had the same shade as hers. His ears were slightly pointed like hers, compared to his father’s, which were rounded. After careful consideration, she saw a trace of her features in him.

Quite possibly, it was just her imagination, creating this image out of her desperation to find her son.

"Excuse me, Oliver," Jacob whispered something in his ear before turning to her with an apologetic smile.

At this point, she had learned to read their silent signals. It meant Oliver was needed somewhere else. It was urgent. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"I’m sorry, Darling, but I have to go." He leaned over, touching her forehead with his lips. "But I will make it up to you later." The smirk on his lips carried a promise that she intended to collect when he returned.

A few seconds later, her husband was gone. Seeing another yawn on Caleb’s lips, she decided to set her foot forward. "Come on, Caleb. It’s time for bed."

This time, her son didn’t make a fuss as he politely said goodnight to his grandparents and the other guests and followed her.

With the help of Nanny Rosita, Caleb was ready for bed in a few minutes. As soon as the young boy hit the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing evened, and his body stopped moving. He was more exhausted than he would admit.

Finally, his body had decided for him.

With a light kiss on his forehead, she tucked his blanket neatly and tightly under his chin before turning the nightlight on.

Slowly, she moved to the door, turned off the bright lights, and gently closed the door.

For a minute, she debated whether to return to the party or just go straight to her room. But she remembered, as the new Mrs. Morton, it was her obligation to be the host of the party.

"Haaah!" She just released a silent sigh, having no other choice. Then, she headed back to the stairs and the party.

As soon as she stepped into the crowd, a man in an impeccable suit blocked her path. Standing behind him were several men in equally expensive clothes.

Although the party was almost over and some of the previous guests had already left, a few more attendees arrived through the front door.

"You must be the new Donna, the new lady of the Morton family." The man courteously commented, extending his hand toward her. "I’m Don Enrico, a family friend." He introduced himself with a friendly smile.

When she hesitantly offered her hand, the man gently pulled her hand into his lips, mildly kissing her knuckles in a gentlemanly and chivalrous gesture.

"It was nice to meet you, Don Enrico." She graciously held his hand for a second before letting go.

As she looked into the older man’s eyes, she could not help but feel some sort of familiarity. It was as if she had seen this man before. But if her memory served her right, she believed this was the first time she had met him.

Still, as she studied his face, he looked like a familiar stranger.

"Well, your photos didn’t do you justice. You’re much more beautiful in person, Mrs. Morton." Don Enrico said loudly that even some guests nearby turned to look at her.

For some reason, she found the man’s charm endearing. In a way, the Mafia Don reminded her of her father.

The long beard that almost covered his entire face, the eyes that looked dangerous, but when he smiled, his face lit up and transformed into an adorable man, and the belly fat that gathered around his waist.

They all reminded her of someone she wished she could see again, but fate had taken away forever.

"Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment." For a few minutes, she entertained the man and his companion, answering their questions as much as she could.

Of course, she had avoided complicated topics, sticking to the more neutral ones. But as she conversed with the Don, she had learned that he was not just intelligent, but had a good sense of humor.

"By the way, where is your husband?" The Don had finally asked as his eyes scanned the room.

With fewer guests, it was supposed to be easier to spot him in the crowd, but then she remembered that he had left for some emergency.

"I must apologize for his absence. He had been called away for an urgent meeting." She made an excuse, although she had no idea where her husband had gone or what he was doing.

Since the day that Jacob had caught her snooping through Oliver’s office, she had learned to keep to her own business. She was not about to push her luck. She thought she had to lie low before they started suspecting anything.

Although she was starting to have second thoughts about her plan for revenge, she was still not shutting it down completely.

At any rate, if she accidentally stumbled into something and then it proved Oliver’s involvement in her family’s death, she would never hesitate to take the Morton family down.

"I understand. But it’s not such a bad thing since I get to spend these few minutes with you." Don Enrico was clearly enjoying himself.

Surprisingly, she also found it easy to chat with this dangerous Mafia mobster. People said that Don Enrico was just as ruthless and cold as her husband and her father-in-law. But the more she talked to him, the more she found herself enthralled by his stories.

"Pardon, Mrs. Sophia." One of the maids interrupted them. "Mrs. Dianne has been looking for you."

With that said, she politely excused herself. "Why don’t you enjoy and mingle with the other guests?" She suggested before leaving the Don with a genuine smile.

Oddly enough, she liked the older Mafia Don. Even if he was one of the deadliest men in the city, she never felt afraid in his presence. Not once.

Reluctantly, she left her guest to find her mother-in-law, who had been looking for her. She tried the place where she had last left her. But she was not in there. She strode to the kitchen, expecting she would be there. But still, she was nowhere to be found.

Then, she walked toward the balcony, wondering if she had gone for some air. But instead of finding Dianne, she found someone else in the dim light. Talking. Clearly discussing something.

The two silhouette figures were barely recognizable from her position by the door, but she still managed to identify them.

"Maximus..." Squinting her eyes. "Hazel?"

At first, she thought nothing of it. It was only natural for them to talk. After all, Hazel had once been a part of this family. Besides, based on what she heard, Maximus had always liked her.

But she stopped when she was about to turn and leave.

"Your son?"

Did she hear her father-in-law correctly?

Your son?

The question repeated inside her head like a broken record.

What did he mean by that?