Chapter 39

Helen's parents' faces, once clear and distinct, were now obscured by a splash of water from my blurted out. In a swift motion, they reached for tissues scattered across the table, dabbing at their wet faces. Regaining their composure, they managed to stretch their lips into forced smiles.

"No, I am not," I protested vehemently, eager to dispel any misunderstandings. “It is not my baby.”

They both exhaled deeply, a symphony of shared relief.

Leaning closer to Helen, who was seated beside me, I whispered, "You said your father was an angry man, yet, he seems as gentle as a saint."

Helen coughed softly, leaning in to reply in a hushed tone, "It's only because of your bodyguards. Why did you bring them without telling me?"

"You frightened me with tales of your father's wrath, fearing for my life," I explained, glancing back at the four imposing figures behind me. They were an intimidating sight - each one muscular, covered in tattoos, and wearing expressions of stern resolve. One of them
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