Now it was clear—she really was carrying his child, and yet she'd deliberately chosen to keep it from him.
Soren let out a cold, derisive laugh.
Evangeline didn't notice the way he was watching her.
But Old Mrs. Fawkes had been right—just a couple days ago, Evangeline had weighed herself and found she'd put on four pounds. Ever since she'd moved out, her days had been so much more peaceful; she was eating well and sleeping better than before.
Clyde didn't pay any mind to such things. As the conversation around the dinner table quieted down, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin and turned to Old Mrs. Fawkes. "Mom, your seventieth birthday is coming up soon. How would you like to celebrate this time? Helen and I can take care of all the arrangements."
Helena nodded in agreement, gently urging, "Mom, I know you've always kept things simple in the past, but this time Wen and I really want to do it properly. It's a huge milestone—a reason to truly celebrate."
Yet Helena knew perfectly well that Old Mrs. Fawkes had grown up in hardship. Even after the Fawkes family became prosperous, she remained frugal by habit. No matter how much they tried to persuade her, she'd always kept her birthday gatherings modest—at most, inviting only a handful of close friends from their social circle.
Helena was fully prepared for Old Mrs. Fawkes to turn them down again. But to her surprise, the old woman simply nodded. "You're right, this time it should be a grand occasion."
Helena was momentarily stunned.
Clyde, too, looked taken aback, but quickly assumed his mother had finally come around. He smiled, relieved. "I'll get started on the guest list and show it to you later."
"No need for that," Old Mrs. Fawkes replied. "The party will be at the biggest banquet hall in Serenity City. Send invitations to all the prominent families—including the Lockridges."
"This birthday banquet should be as lavish as possible."
Now everyone at the table was shifting in their seats, uneasy.
Her words left no doubt—she intended to announce something.
And what else could warrant such a grand affair at her age?
It could only be the will.
Helena couldn't help glancing at Soren.
It seemed the old lady was planning to hand over Fawkes Enterprises to Soren and Clyde.
Old Mrs. Fawkes watched the storm through the doorway and said, "It's not safe to drive back in weather like this. Soren, Evangeline, you'll both stay here tonight."
Soren didn't object.
Evangeline couldn't argue either. The old house was on the outskirts of town, and the drive back to the city involved a winding, treacherous road. In this storm, with visibility so poor, it really was dangerous.
Still, staying here meant she'd almost certainly have to share a room with Soren.
They were divorced now. Sharing a bedroom would be awkward, to say the least.
She hesitated, about to speak up.
But Old Mrs. Fawkes seemed to guess what she was thinking. Before Evangeline could say a word, she turned to the housekeeper. "Prepare two guest rooms—one for Soren and one for Evangeline."
At that, everyone looked a little puzzled.
The housekeeper hesitated. "Ma'am, did you mean one room? They're husband and wife—surely one room is enough?"

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