Chapter 283: The Grandma’s Weakness

Isobel had just stepped off the carousel when she overheard Mary’s remark to Carlos about his son looking familiar.

If only she knew what had really been running through Mary’s mind—her wild suspicions that Isobel had somehow gotten pregnant with Carlos’s child, and the vicious words she had silently cursed her with.

Would Isobel be able to keep calm in front of Mary if she heard every ugly thought?

Perhaps she would cry out in anguish at the injustice of it all.

But Isobel knew none of that.

All she heard was Mary’s observation.

So I wasn’t the only one who had noticed it.

Carlos’s little boy really did look strangely familiar.

Her gaze drifted back toward the carousel.

Alena was still standing there, seemingly reluctant to leave. She avoided looking in Carlos’s direction, her attention fixed on anything but him.

Isobel’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

She could already guess the truth.

The little boy Carlos Foran was carrying was most likely his son with Alena.

She would have to ask her later.

A faint sigh escaped Isobel’s lips.

She and Alena looked somewhat alike. There were similarities in their features, that even she think that Alena was her reflection viewed in a broken or distorted mirror.

But lately, Isobel had begun to wonder if the resemblance between them went deeper than their faces.

Their fates seemed strangely similar too.

Both had given birth to a son.

Both had become mothers to children fathered by men they could never truly have.

The thought left a strange heaviness in her chest.

Her gaze wandered into the distance until it settled on a stone bench beneath a sprawling old tree.

Her uncle Leon was sitting there, drinking from a bottle of water that Randy had thoughtfully opened for him.

Randy hadn’t joined them on the kiddie roller coaster. He had declared himself too old for such a ride and had instead stayed behind to keep his grandfather company, even bringing him something to snack on.

Isobel couldn’t help sighing again.

Even she had to admit that her uncle’s life had been rather unfortunate.

For so many years, he had suffered so much calamity, carrying the weight of his past without anyone to share it with.

"Isobel."

Kristoff’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned.

His brows were slightly drawn together, concern evident in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

For a moment, Isobel realized that she must have looked sad.

She quickly shook her head.

"I’m fine. I just remembered something... sad."

Kristoff studied her face but didn’t press further.

He simply remained beside her.

Somehow, his silent presence made the sadness in her heart feel a little lighter.

...

A short distance away, Mary was waiting for them.

Then he took Kristoff by the arm and pulled him toward a secluded spot beneath a massive, shady tree.

She had no intention of letting the other guests hear her reprimand her son.

The Daltons had a reputation to protect, and Mary was painfully aware that every word and every gesture made by a member of the family could become tomorrow’s gossip.

Henry followed them after signaling to the guards and park attendants to remain where they were.

The moment they were far enough from the crowd, Mary’s expression hardened.

"Kristoff, you seem to have forgotten that you’re a Dalton."

Her voice was low, but the sharpness in it made Henry glance at her uneasily.

Mary pointed toward the crowd.

"Look at you. You’re practically inviting people to talk."

Kristoff frowned.

"What exactly am I doing?"

"You know exactly what you’re doing."

Mary’s eyes immediately shifted toward Isobel.

"Do you have any idea how this looks? Sitting beside her in front of everyone, carrying my grandson, treating her as though—"

"Mom."

Kristoff’s expression darkened.

Mary continued without giving him a chance to speak.

"You’re a Dalton. You should know better than to give people something to gossip about."

Kristoff stared at her for several seconds before answering.

"There’s nothing I can do about it."

Mary’s brows knitted together.

"What?"

"Alexander wouldn’t let go of Isobel. Every time I tried to take him, he cried."

His voice remained remarkably calm.

"He’s my son. And today is his first birthday. Why shouldn’t I give him what makes him happy?"

Mary’s face tightened.

"Kristoff!"

Her voice cracked like a whip.

"That isn’t the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"The point is that you’re giving people something to talk about!"

Kristoff exhaled slowly.

"I don’t care."

Mary stared at him as if he had just said something outrageous.

"You should care!"

She stepped closer.

"You’re a Dalton. You have a reputation to protect."

"And Alexander is my son."

Kristoff’s voice remained steady, but there was steel underneath it.

"I care more about him being happy than about what strangers think."

Mary opened her mouth to argue.

But before she could say another word, a small voice called from behind them.

"Daddy..."

They all turned.

Isobel was approaching with Alexander in her arms.

The moment Alexander spotted his father, his little hands immediately reached toward him.

"Daddy!"

Isobel instinctively tightened her hold around him.

She had heard enough. She knew exactly who Mary had been talking about.

Her fingers curled slightly around Alexander’s tiny body, and discomfort flashed across her face.

Kristoff noticed.

His expression changed instantly.

The warmth disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a cold, unmistakable warning.

"Don’t speak about Isobel as if she’s done something wrong."

Mary stared at him in disbelief.

"Kristoff, I’m your mother."

"And she’s the mother of my son."

The words fell heavily between them. Silence descended. Even Henry went still.

A short distance away, Julian, who had been standing with the rest of the Foster family, slowly turned his attention toward them.

Mary’s face flushed.

Henry’s expression became complicated.

Before the tension could deepen, Alexander suddenly babbled excitedly.

"Daddy! Nama! Bampa!"

The tiny voice was so cheerful and innocent that everyone froze.

Alexander was only one year old. Daddy and Mommy were the only words he could pronounce clearly. Everything else came out in adorable fragments of baby language.

But Mary understood one of them and her anger vanished.

She slowly turned toward Isobel.

"My precious grandson..."

Her voice softened immediately.

"What did you just call me?"

Alexander blinked at her.

"Na...ma."

Then he giggled.

Mary’s eyes widened.

For the first time that day, she looked completely disarmed.

"My grandson called me Grandma."

She reached out both arms.

"Come here, sweetheart."

Alexander went to her without the slightest hesitation.

Mary took him into her arms and hugged him close, all thoughts of her argument with Kristoff momentarily forgotten.

For several seconds, she seemed to forget that Isobel was the woman she had been angry with only moments ago.

"Henry, dear!"

Mary beamed.

"Did you hear that? My grandson called me Grandma!"

Henry couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

"He called me Grandpa too."

He folded his arms.

"It’s not as if you’re the only special one."

Mary ignored him completely.

"Alex, come on. Call Grandma again."

"Na...ma!"

Mary laughed heartily.

Alexander clapped his little hands and burst into another fit of giggles.

Mary’s face practically glowed.

"My goodness! Isn’t he clever?"

She kissed his cheek repeatedly before turning toward the next ride.

"Come on, sweetheart. Grandma will take you."

She started walking away with Alexander in her arms.

After a few steps, she realized Henry wasn’t following.

She turned impatiently.

"Henry! What are you standing there for? Aren’t you coming?"

Henry immediately followed.

"Of course I’m coming."

Kristoff remained where he was, watching his parents disappear with Alexander.

He stared after them for a moment.

Then he blinked.

"That’s it? She just left like that?"

Isobel looked at him.

"What?"

"My mother was furious a minute ago."

He gestured helplessly toward the direction Mary had disappeared.

"Now she’s happily taking Alexander to the next ride."

Isobel couldn’t help shrugging.

"I heard what your mother said."

Kristoff looked at her.

"Don’t overthink it. She’ll come to her senses eventually."

Isobel gave him a faint smile.

Then she glanced toward Mary and Henry, who were already fussing over Alexander.

"Isn’t Alexander unusually smart?"

Kristoff raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"I have a feeling he deliberately called both of your parents when things were getting tense."

She smiled.

"Maybe he knew you were about to be scolded by your mother."

Kristoff stared at her as though she had made an absurd suggestion.

"Has he ever called them that before?"

"No. But then, he’s just a one-year-old child."

He looked toward his son.

"What could he possibly know?"

But Isobel continued watching Alexander.

There was something about the timing that felt almost too perfect.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that the little boy had somehow sensed the tension and instinctively tried to break it.

Her lips curved into a small smile.

"He certainly seemed to know what he was doing."

Kristoff followed her gaze.

Then his eyes returned to her.

Something in his expression changed.

The amusement faded.

His gaze lingered on her face, deep and unreadable.

"Isobel."

She turned toward him.

"Yes?"

For a moment, Kristoff said nothing.

His eyes moved over her face as though there were something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

The amusement in her eyes slowly faded.

"What is it?"

Kristoff held her gaze for another second.

Then, just as suddenly, he looked away.

"Nothing."

Isobel stared at him.

But the faint tension in his jaw told her that it was anything but nothing.