The Temporary Boyfriend

Chapter 141: Eight years old

Andrew gave a stiff nod, but his silence didn’t mean he was convinced.

His mind flashed back to an afternoon when he was eight years old. He had snuck into Adrian’s study to play with a set of gold coins Adrian kept in a glass jar. He had just opened the jar when he heard the door handle turn.

​In a panic, he scrambled toward the tall bookcase, and ducked behind the thick velvet curtains.

​Adrian stepped into the room, holding a phone to his ear. He was pacing rapidly.

​"The boy is growing up," he said into the phone. "He doesn’t look like Chairman Grant at all. If he insists on a DNA test when we finally introduce him... we are all finished."

​Andrew had stayed perfectly still, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Even at eight years old, he understood that his life was built on a dangerous secret.

​Listening to his mother now in the garden, he realized her confidence was just another performance. She was telling him one thing, but his memory was telling him something else.

​If he was really the Chairman’s son, why would Adrian be afraid of a DNA test?

​He sat behind the velvet curtain long after Adrian had left the room and the lights had been turned off. freeweɓnøvel.com

The words echoed in his small head over and over.

​It took him over a week to return to his old self.

​During those seven days, the usually energetic boy became a shadow. He stopped playing with his gold coins and sat silently at the dinner table, watching Adrian with wide, questioning eyes.

He was terrified that if he spoke, he might accidentally reveal that he had heard what he said that day, and get into trouble.

​Adrian noticed the change in him.

"Are you ill, boy?" He asked him at the dinner table.

Andrew simply shook his head.

​​He had never shared that memory with his mother. But watching her now, he realized the pieces didn’t fit. She seemed so convinced.

​A small doubt flickered in his mind. Could he have imagined it? Could an eight-year-old boy have misunderstood a phone call? He searched his mind, trying to find a reason to trust her, but he couldn’t shake the memory. He was sure of what he had heard.

Zara noticed the distant look in his eyes and shook him slightly, forcing him to look at her.

"Are you listening to me, Andrew? This is no time for your moods," she said. "We have worked too hard to get back into this mansion. Do not cause any trouble for me, at least until my plans are completed."

Andrew pulled back. "I’m listening, Mother. But if I’m his son, I’m entitled to half of his wealth. Why do we even have to get rid of Julian Let’s just leave him alone and take what is ours."

​"Revenge, Andrew," Zara snapped. "His mother tried to kill me. Why are we even discussing this now? We already talked about this years ago."

​"Listen, Mother," Andrew countered. "What you told me was that Adrian told you, it was Eleanor who sent those people after you. Haven’t you ever considered, for a second, that he could have been wrong? Or lying?" fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Zara slapped him hard across the face.

​Andrew’s head snapped to the side. He didn’t move, his hand slowly rising to touch his cheek.

​"Adrian saved us, you fool!" Zara said angrily. "What would he have to gain from lying to me? He took us in when we had no where to go! What has come over you?"

​She breathed in and out trying to calm herself. "Julian and his mother are the reason we had to leave, like dogs. If you lose your nerve now, you aren’t just a coward, you’re a traitor to everything I’ve sacrificed for you."

​Andrew looked at her.

​"I’m not losing my nerve. I’m just starting to look at the evidence. And right now, the evidence is simply hearsay."

​Zara reached up, touching his shoulder. Her expression softening. "It’s not hearsay. There is proof."

Andrew looked surprised. "I didn’t know that."

"I know. Look, let’s stick to our plans. As long as you understand this. We have to be a united front, Andrew."

Andrew nodded.

Back at the penthouse...

Lyvana had finished her meal, and was laughing at something Julian had said.

She was beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around him.

Suddenly the elevator dinged and the the penthouse doors opened.

A woman walked in wearing a charcoal-grey leggings and a cropped top. Her hair was pulled up into a perfect, tight ponytail.

She was carrying a small gym bag and a specialized glass bottle.

​"You’re late starting your warm-up, Julian." She walked straight to the kitchen island, setting her juice down, and starts stretching her neck.

"Sasha." Julian glanced at Lyvana, then back to Sasha. "Did we have an appointment today?"

"What is this, Julian..." The woman finally turned and blinked, noticing Lyvana. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh, you have a guest. I am so sorry."

​Julian set his linen napkin down and stood up.

​"Sasha, I’d like you to meet Lyvana. Baby, this is Sasha. She’s been my personal physical therapist for three years now. She has biometric access to the penthouse for our sessions."

​"His health is my priority, basically," Sasha said with a light, laugh that made the intrusion seem almost reasonable. She stepped forward with a warm smile. "Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lyvana."

​She didn’t wait for a response. Her eyes drifted to the table, landing on the plates.

​"You’re eating carbs?" She made a small, playful face of disapproval at Julian. "I thought we discussed your inflammatory markers, Julian."

​"Don’t be dramatic," Julian said.

​"If you’re going to cheat on your plan, you could at least wait for a day when I’m not here to catch you," Sasha teased. She leaned her head toward his shoulder. "Now I’ll have to add ten minutes of cardio just to balance out that rice."