Too Late, Mr. Cooper: Your Bride Ran with Your Baby novel Chapter 299

"Don't worry, Mr. Cooper," Lucas said, quickly pocketing the business card. "I'll make sure it gets done."

Linton waved a dismissive hand, signaling for him to leave. As Lucas left, Linton's gaze drifted to two photo frames on his desk. One was a picture of Liliana from high school. She was in her school uniform, her hair in a cheerful ponytail, her smile as bright as a crescent moon. Her face was young and full of life, her grin so radiant it was like looking at the sun.

Linton's eyes softened with a deep, affectionate longing as he looked at the smiling girl in the photo, and the corners of his lips curved upward unconsciously.

His gaze then shifted to the other frame. It held a 5D ultrasound image of a baby. The sharp, coldness in Linton’s eyes melted away. He picked up the frame with a reverence typically reserved for a holy relic, cradling it in his hands.

His face was filled with a tenderness and solemnity that was rarely seen. He reached out a long finger, slowly and gently tracing the delicate features of the baby on the ultrasound.

At eight months, the baby's face was clearly visible. His finger moved softly from the eyes to the nose, and then the mouth.

This was his daughter.

His and Liliana's daughter. As a thought crossed his mind, the tenderness in his eyes was abruptly replaced by a flicker of intense pain. His face paled, his breathing hitched, and his lips began to tremble as he struggled for air. A heavy weight settled on his chest, like a large stone, making it difficult to breathe.

With a hand that he fought to keep steady, he fumbled to open a white pill bottle in his desk drawer—a familiar, desperate routine. He tipped a pill into his mouth and swallowed, then his complicated gaze returned to the ultrasound in his hands.

An involuntary smile touched his lips. He closed his eyes and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to the baby's forehead on the image. "My baby," he whispered, his voice a feather-light, raspy murmur. "Daddy loves you. Just as much as he loves your mommy."

Liliana was the mother; she was the one taking the risk. She had a right to know. But if she told her, what if Liliana couldn't handle it? What if it triggered her depression? Wouldn't that just make a difficult birth even more likely?

Mrs. Hart was so stressed that she'd developed a cold sore on her lip.

"Mom..."

Suddenly, Gabriel's voice came from behind her. He had just come through the front door, looking weary. He had also been spending all his time and energy contacting reliable and authoritative obstetricians, and the strain was showing on his face.

Mrs. Hart jumped, turning around quickly. "Gabriel. How did it go? Did you find a doctor?"