Perhaps… Azalea did something to me when I lost consciousness six years ago? When I was injured?
The notion sent a chill down Eugene’s spine. The possibility that he fathered these three children morphed into a ball of fear that crept into him-he and Olivia would be over.
At the thought of that, he hurriedly slit his finger with a knife and let the blood drip onto a piece of napkin, which was handed over to Curtis. “I need a DNA test, and keep this between us. You mustn’t let anyone else know about this.”
“Okay, President Nolan,” replied Curtis seriously at Eugene’s somber face before leaving. Eugene’s apprehension grew. At that moment, he wished someone was setting him up by leveraging the children instead of having anything to do with them.
At first, he stayed vigilant regarding the possibility that the children were part of a conspiracy. Now, he was genuinely surprised by them to the extent that he did not inquire about their background, hometown, mother, or age.
Should I do a background check on them? But who should I seek help from? North is out of consideration. Forget about the fact that he might get jealous; that little brat is on Olivia’s side. If he knows about it, she will as well. I shouldn’t let her know before the test results are out.
He was contemplating on whom to seek help from, and someone came into his mind. That second kid to speak… Isn’t he the same kid playing the piano at Mi Amor? He dressed formally, and there was quite a distance, but I think they’re the same kid.
As an afterthought, Eugene stood up with his car keys. Half an hour later, he appeared at Mi Amor and looked at the podium first thing. The piano kid isn’t around.
Despite the disappointment, he tried to convince himself that the kid could not come to work since he was elsewhere today, so he headed to the reception desk. “Is that piano kid on leave?”
“Yes,” said the receptionist. He thought for a moment before questioning, “How long has he been working here?” “Over two months.”
“What’s his name?” “Do you need something from him, sir?” The receptionist frowned. Eugene fished out a business card from his pocket. “Eugene Nolan. My girlfriend is impressed by the piano kid. So, I wanna know more about him.”
The receptionist exclaimed, “Mr. Nolan! Nice to meet you, sir. The kid’s name is Blake Rogers. He’s six, and he came up to us on his own. He impressed our boss, so he works here.”
“Have you seen his family?”
“He has an elder brother and a younger brother. They’re about the same age.” “What about their parents?”
“Never met them before. He’s normally here with his bodyguard. I think he has a godmother. She took a few kids over for a meal twice.”
“Godmother? Do you know her name?” “No. She always put on a cap and a mask every time she comes. Must be a celebrity. We’re guessing that they’re her illegitimate children.”
Eugene paused momentarily at that reply, trying to figure out who the parents might be. Then, he stuffed a load of cash into the receptionist’s hand. “Could you contact me the next time they dine in here?”
