Chapter 251: Chapter Two Hundred And Fifty One
The afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the quiet residential street. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming roses and the cheerful sound of a child’s laughter.
"Martin, come back here!" a voice called out from the doorway of a modest, well-kept house.
A small boy, his face alight with joy, ran out onto the lawn, his short legs pumping as fast as they could. His giggles filled the air. "You can’t catch me, Papa!" he shouted.
Martin kept on running, looking back over his shoulder to see if his father was coming after him. He was so focused on the game that he didn’t see the tall figure walking up the path until it was too late.
He ran directly into the man’s legs, the impact sending a small "oof" out of him. But before he could fall to the ground, a strong, steady hand caught him by the shoulders, holding him upright.
Lewis, Martin’s father, hurried out of the house, a playful smile on his face that instantly vanished when he saw his son in the arms of another man. His eyes widened in shock and immediate apprehension. It was Duke Eric.
"Your Grace," Lewis said, his voice a mixture of surprise and deference. He quickly bowed his head.
Eric gently set Martin down on his feet. The little boy, no longer laughing, looked up at the tall stranger with wide, curious eyes. He then ran to his father, hiding behind his legs.
Lewis placed a reassuring hand on his son’s head. "Go inside, Martin," he said gently. "Your mother is waiting for you. I’ll be with you in a while."
Martin looked at his father, then peeked out at Eric, who offered him a soft, friendly smile. The boy looked back at his father one last time before turning and running back into the house. The sound of the door closing behind him seemed to mark the end of the peaceful afternoon.
Lewis gestured nervously towards the closed door. "This way, Your Grace," he said, his smile strained.
"I think we should stay outside," Eric replied, his tone pleasant but firm. "It will be the best environment for this conversation."
The friendly pretense in Lewis’s expression wavered. He knew this was not a social call. He wrung his hands together, his mind racing. "Of course," he replied, his nervous smile returning. "Let me take you to the garden then. It’s more private."
As they walked to the back of the house and sat in two wrought-iron chairs in the small, well-tended garden, Eric looked around at the beautiful flowers. "I didn’t cross any lines in coming to your house unexpectedly, did I?" he asked, his voice still light.
"You did not, Your Grace," Lewis said, though his posture was rigid with tension. "Please, go ahead."
Eric’s cheerful demeanor vanished as if he had flipped a switch. The warmth left his eyes, replaced by a cool, calculating intensity. "Sure," he said, his voice dropping to a low, even tone. "I’ll cut to the chase. Give me the papers on Mr. Noah Kirk, the worker who died."
The directness of the demand startled Lewis. He had prepared for questions, for insinuations, but not for a direct order. He fell back on his official position, his voice becoming formal and stiff. "As for that, Your Grace, I’m sorry. That is a confidential personnel matter. It’s not within my powers to release that information."
Eric simply nodded his head slowly, as if he had expected that exact answer. He looked towards the house, where he could faintly hear the sound of Martin’s happy chatter. "That’s your son just now, right?"
Lewis was quiet, unsure where this was going.
"How old is he?" Eric continued, his gaze still fixed on the house.
Lewis hesitated before answering, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. "He’s five."
"That family has a child too," Eric said, his voice still quiet, but now laced with a heavy sadness. He finally turned to look at Lewis, his eyes piercing.
"That family?" Lewis asked, feigning ignorance.
"Mr. Kirk’s wife is expecting," Eric stated, dropping the words into the quiet garden like stones into a still pond.
Lewis’s eyes widened in genuine shock. He had not been informed of this. Philip had told him the widow was taken care of, that the compensation was generous. He had never mentioned a child.
Eric pressed on, seeing the crack in Lewis’s composure. "She’s in her last month of pregnancy. A child will come into this world very soon. A child without a father." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping even lower. "If Mr. Kirk is faultless, the least we can do for that newborn is let them grow up knowing their father didn’t do anything careless. That he didn’t get himself killed because of his own bad decisions."
The words hits Lewis straight on his face. He thought of his own son, Martin, and the pride he felt as his father. The idea of Martin having to grow up thinking his father was a fool, that his death was his own fault, was unbearable. A wave of guilt washed over him, and he could not hide the pained look on his face. His gaze fell to the ground.
Eric could see the internal struggle clearly. "I know how you feel," he said, his voice softening with a deceptive empathy. "Duke Philip promised you an executive position when he becomes the head of Carson. A directorship, I believe. You have endured everything so far because of that promise. You’ve worked hard for your family, for your son."
He paused, letting the words sink in, letting Lewis know that his secret was no longer a secret. He looked Lewis directly in the eyes. "But, I think it’s best you give that up." A small, confident smile touched Eric’s lips. "Because I came into Carson Textiles."
The implication was clear. The future Philip had promised was no longer guaranteed. Eric was offering a choice: cling to a corrupt promise from a failing power, or find redemption with the new one.
The smile remained on Eric’s face as he watched Lewis struggling to pick a side.