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Charles received the call from Secretary Williams while he was on the phone with the director of the hospital’s paternity test center.

Once the director got the samples, he imdiately instructed his colleagues to start the testing process.

However, they encountered issues during sample collection.

The director ntioned that the cell material extracted from the drink straw wasn’t plentiful, raising doubts about the accuracy of the test, and asked if Charles could provide a more reliable sample—like blood or bodily fluids.

It was difficult enough for Charles to get that straw, how could he possibly obtain blood?

Before he could finish the call with the director, another incoming call flashed on his phone, and seeing it was Secretary Williams, he switched calls.

"Young Master Charles, Chairman Smith accidentally fell a few days ago, injuring his right leg. He didn’t want to tell you. He’s been using a prosthetic again these past few days, and it’s bleeding—I worry about infection, so I felt I should tell you. Can you co by tonight?"

The usually calm Charles frowned upon hearing this, "Why didn’t you say sooner?"

"Chairman Smith... didn’t want to tell you, fearing you’d worry."

"And now I’m not supposed to worry?" Charles rarely spoke in this tone but quickly regained composure, "Send the room number; I’ll co by after work. Have him stay in bed and avoid using the prosthetic."

"Understood."

Ending the call, Charles returned to the consultation room to continue seeing patients.

His dical skills were renowned, attracting many who specifically scheduled to see the specialist him.

When he finally finished seeing patients past six, he had several new admissions to handle in the inpatient departnt.

By the ti he was done, it was already eight o’clock.

Upon arriving at the hotel, Secretary Williams quietly inford him, "Chairman Smith has a bit of a fever, not sure if it’s an infection..."

Charles gave him a stern look without speaking, then hurried into the room.

Thomas Smith was at the bedside, using a tablet to handle business, but looked up when his son arrived, "What brings you here? Have you eaten?"

"No." Charles’s refined face, usually calm and amiable, carried a rare intensity.

His long legs led him to the bedside, where he swiftly snatched the tablet from his father and then uncovered the blanket.

"Hey—" Thomas was in the middle of replying to an email when the tablet vanished; his attempt to grab it failed, and the blanket was tossed aside.

He quickly understood and glanced at his nearby assistant.

Secretary Williams silently bowed his head and left the room.

"It’s red and swollen, the skin’s broken. If you keep neglecting your health, even a Miracle Doctor like couldn’t help!" Observing the amputated leg, Charles appeared increasingly grim.

Leaving those words, he turned to open his dical kit, agile fingers quickly retrieving a series of dical tools, and when busy, he thrust a rcury thermoter into his disobedient father’s hand.

Yet Thomas remained warm and gentle, "It’s nothing, just a low fever. I haven’t been sick in years, so a little illness isn’t bad."

"If you don’t want to be hospitalized, then behave and adhere to my advice."

Thomas imdiately fell silent, taking his temperature.

The next second, the sharp sting of dical alcohol assaulted him, causing a wince.

Charles remarked, "I saw Clarke Norton today."

Thomas’s expression shifted slightly, "When, at noon? Did you set up a eting with her?"

Charles didn’t reply, focused on his task yet directly addressing the main issue, "Dad, just be honest—is she your biological daughter? Was Aunt Norton the one who gave birth to her with you?"

Thomas’s face montarily showed unease, but soon his gaze reflected longing and nostalgia.

"Chloe and I... indeed succumbed to temptation, but it was just that one ti. I never imagined she’d get pregnant. If I had dared to think about it a little, I wouldn’t have missed a lifeti with her..."

Charles glanced at him, intending to say sothing from a dical perspective. Yet observing his father’s profound guilt and remorse, the words were stalled.

"Actually, when I returned back then, despite my dire state, I wanted to et her. If I had t with her, maybe so things could’ve been resolved..."

Many chances to and mistakes slipped by, and now, recalling those missed opportunities even in dreams brought tears.

Completing the wound treatnt, Charles packed the bloodstained bandages, returning them to the dical kit, and removed the thermoter.

"38℃. I’ll leave so ds for tonight. If the fever persists, I’ll co by tomorrow."

Thomas glanced at his son, "I’ll be busy tomorrow, no need to co."

"Are you going out in your condition?"

"It’s a scheduled eting with Christopher Hart."

"eting him for what?"

"Little Clarke refuses to see . I don’t know if it stems from the online incidents or resentnt from what I said previously. Regardless, she might be my daughter, and I must be responsible for her. I plan to talk to Christopher first, so he can deliver the ssage, possibly lessening the impact."

Thomas was unaware that Alia Garcia knew everything already and was plotting to reveal their connection in the gentlest way possible.

Charles gathered the dical kit, offered Thomas a water cup with dication, "From a personal standpoint, my impression of Christopher isn’t great. I doubt you’ll get anywhere with him. You’d do better to wait for my paternity test results. If Little Clarke truly is your daughter, you can claim her directly. Even if she can’t accept it imdiately, she’ll co around eventually."

Thomas was taken aback, "Paternity test results? What’s the aning?"

"I took the straw she used at lunch. Even if you weren’t unwell, I planned on getting a sample tonight."

Now with the bloodstained bandages, there’s no need to draw blood separately.

Upon hearing the explanation, Thomas looked at the dical kit, realizing why Charles stored the bandages instead of discarding them.

"Nonsense! If a paternity test is to be done, it ought to be with her consent, openly and fairly. Sneaking it like this is disrespectful!" Thomas usually praised his son’s actions, but this infuriated him.

Yet Charles had his own reasoning, "Dad, sotis directness is needed to swiftly reach conclusions, then act accordingly. You’ve missed one chance, suffered greatly—do you still want to hesitate, weighing possibilities?"

"If Clarke Norton is your daughter, you’d finally have your bloodline, wouldn’t that be wonderful? If Clarke is your daughter, she’d gain a close relative and solid support—would the Hart Family still dare treat her unjustly? Aunt Norton endured suffering, and so have you. Clarke’s life has been full of hardship, frigid eyes, even abuse—seizing this chance could end it all, wouldn’t you wish for this to happen soon?"

Thomas was left speechless by his son’s words.

Seeing Thomas persuaded, Charles checked his watch, "It’s late; rest well. I’ll return to the hospital now to deliver the samples to the test center. With smooth sampling, results should be ready by morning."

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