Desmond Fairchild entered the room, and the first person he saw was Jude Sinclair.
The child’s refined features completely inherited his appearance.
Desmond’s gaze slightly brightened, further confirming that Jude was indeed his child.
Seraphina Sinclair noticed that Desmond’s eyes were fixed on her son, and she remained very cautious about it, first directing Jude into the bedroom.
After Jude left, she sat on the sofa, crossing her arms as she sized up the man in front of her.
To be fair, this man’s looks were certainly outstanding. Even though she was used to Jude’s face, seeing this man was still sowhat stunning.
However, the custom suit with an indistinguishable brand left her wondering whether it was a fake or a gift from so rich woman. A man being so vain, no wonder he went down the wrong path to beco a gigolo...
"Ha," Desmond sensed the disdain in Seraphina’s gaze, but he didn’t intend to explain anything and directly brought up past events, "Five years ago, February 17th, room 226 at The Crown Hotel."
Seraphina was startled. The ti and place matched, so it seed he really was the one.
"The custody of the child goes to . I can give you whatever you want." The man’s voice was low and rich, with even a hint of nobility.
When Desmond ca, he looked at the location of the house. Although the area was good, the house was an old one; there was no way he would let his own son live in such a place.
Then he looked down at the woman on the sofa. With bright eyes and white teeth, exquisite features, and not a bad figure either.
Ha, Desmond silently smirked.
He had seen many won like this in their circle, willing to sell their looks to marry into wealth.
However, this woman in front of him was much more cunning, secretly giving birth to his son, apparently hoping to raise her status through her child.
As soon as she heard the man wanted custody of Jude, Seraphina imdiately panicked.
He really ca to snatch her son away, and a gigolo at that, wanting custody of her son—seriously?
She took a breath, rested her hand on her forehead, and spoke, "Age."
Desmond found this question utterly baffling, but he patiently replied with a word, "29."
Seraphina pursed her lips in disdain; at that age, and still working in such a job?
"What do you do?" As she asked, Seraphina suddenly rembered and closed her eyes in disgust, "Forget it, I know."
A gigolo!
She asked again, "How many people in your family?"
Desmond raised his eyebrows and sneered, "Checking the census?"
Seraphina’s eyes widened, her deanor imposing, "I need to know my son’s dad’s family situation, don’t I?"
"Only my grandmother is directly related," Desmond, for once, answered patiently.
"Do you have a place to live?"
Desmond’s inner loathing deepened. Ha, she couldn’t even bother to pretend, imdiately asking about property?
"Yes."
Seraphina was surprised; he actually had a place, "Where?"
The man fell silent for a mont. He owned many properties, and being asked to specify a location all of a sudden was indeed challenging to answer.
Seeing the man silent, Seraphina’s anger grew even more, rolling her eyes. Right, a gigolo, probably every sugar momma’s ho is his residence.
Having understood everything, Seraphina’s conclusion about Desmond was: an old grandma at ho, no proper job, and a pretty face that mingles with sugar mommas every day!
Her beautiful eyebrows furrowed, bearing a touch of bitter disappointnt—has the audacity of gigolos increased so much these days, with no sense of sha?
She stood up briskly, paced back and forth, and finally restrained her anger, "Quit your improper job, I’ll pay you a million per month, I’ll keep you."
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