Chapter 62: Evelyn’s Husband
Rest.
That was all Axel needed after flying across the continent and rushing straight to Willowcrest just to meet Evelyn and Oliver.
While Evelyn busied herself on the fourth floor, Axel finally allowed himself a moment of peace.
He stretched out his long body across the three-seater sofa, one arm draped over his face, and let out a quiet breath. Sleep. That was the plan.
But fate, apparently, had other plans. Not even five minutes later, just as his body began to relax, a shrill ringtone shattered the quiet.
Axel’s eyes snapped open.
He didn’t move, not yet. Maybe it will stop. Perhaps the caller would give up.
It stopped.
Then, seconds later, it started again. Louder, more insistent.
He clenched his teeth, giving up all hope of rest.
With a deep sigh, he sat up. He scanned the room until his gaze landed on Evelyn’s bag, perched innocently on the single sofa opposite him.
The noise vibrated from inside it like a villain who ruins his rest.
Axel considered turning the damn thing off, but that felt rude, even for him. Instead, he stared at the bag like he could intimidate the phone into silence. But of course it didn’t work.
Resigned heavily, he stood up, grabbed the bag, and headed toward the door, planning to take it to Evelyn downstairs.
But just as he reached the doorway, the sound of the door opening stopped him. Oliver emerged from his bedroom, eyes wide with childish curiosity.
"Daddy?" He asked, tilting his head when he noticed Axel holding Evelyn’s bag. "Ohhh, Mommy’s phone is ringing?"
"Yes," Axel replied calmly, though he felt oddly caught red-handed holding Evelyn’s bag. "She’s on the fourth floor. I was about to take it to her. Whoever’s calling doesn’t seem like they’ll stop anytime soon."
Oliver’s eyes brightened.
"Oh, let me check."
Before Axel could object, his son stepped forward. Axel, curious despite himself, handed him the bag.
Oliver fished out the phone, squinting at the screen.
"Can you read?" Axel asked.
"Mm-hmm. Of course," Oliver responded matter-of-factly.
Another surprise. Axel arched his brow. His three-year-old son could already read? Evelyn had conveniently forgotten to mention that.
"Daddy, it says ’Uncle Oscar.’"
"Uncle Oscar?" Axel repeated, leaning closer. And sure enough, the screen confirmed it: Oscar with a heart icon after the name. The heart beside the name made his jaw tighten.
Before Axel could ask to return the phone to bring it to Evelyn, Oliver had already pressed ’Answer’.
The speaker crackled, and a deep male voice filled the room. "Eve? Why are you so slow to pick up?"
Oliver’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he cheerfully replied, "Uncle Oscar, this is me." He shot Axel a smile and, with exaggerated seriousness, tugged on his father’s hand to lead him toward the seating area.
"Eh? Hi, buddy!" The man’s tone softened immediately. "Where’s Mommy? Can you put her on the phone?"
"Mommy is downstairs. On the fourth floor," Oliver explained, swinging his legs as he perched on the sofa. Then he added with devastating innocence, "But you can talk to my Daddy."
The other end went silent for a beat. Then came a shocked question. "Your WHAT? Your... Daddy?"
Oliver nodded proudly at the phone, though Oscar obviously couldn’t see it. Without hesitation, he shoved the phone into Axel’s large hand as though handing over a bomb.
And then, just like that, Oliver hopped down from the sofa, humming to himself, and dashed toward the kitchen, leaving Axel holding the phone and the awkward silence that followed.
Axel gazed at the device, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.
"Why are you calling Evelyn?" he finally said, his deep voice blending curiosity and warning.
The line falls silent once more. Before Oscar’s voice sounds again, he asks, "...Who is this?"
Axel leaned back against the sofa, his expression calm but his tone sharp, "This is Evelyn’s husband."
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of Oliver in the kitchen opening and slamming drawers as if hunting for cookies.
Axel’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. Rest would have to wait. This, suddenly, was far more interesting.
"E-Evelyn’s husband? What do you mean?" Oscar’s voice came slow and hesitant, then suddenly sped up like a rapper tripping over his own words. "You said you’re Oliver’s daddy? Hahaha... are you joking? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m Oliver’s dad. Don’t talk nonsense in front of my three-year-old son!"
Axel froze. His jaw tightened to hear his nonsense. A sharp fury built in his chest, but before he could unleash it, Oliver came bouncing back, carrying a glass of milk with both hands.
"Uncle Oscar, he’s my daddy... Don’t lie... That’s not good." Oliver announced again, climbing back onto the sofa.
The other end of the call crackled before Oscar’s panicked voice cut in.
"Little buddy, don’t trust anyone, alright? That man must be lying. Impossible! You already have a daddy, and I know for sure who your daddy is. Quick, call Mommy. Tell her to kick that man out of the house!"
Axel’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the phone. It took every ounce of control not to let his temper loose in front of his son. Still, his voice came sharp and cutting before he could stop himself. "Excuse me!?"
"Damn it! Can you stop taking the phone from Oliver?" Oscar snapped.
Axel’s eyes narrowed.
"Mind your words, man. Don’t curse in front of my son, or I will find you and..."
Before he could finish, Oscar exploded again. "Oh, fuck you! Shit! Wait... do you have this on speaker?" His tone shifted instantly from aggressive to horrified.
Oliver’s eyes went wide. He had never heard those words before. He blinked up innocently at the phone. "Uncle Oscar, what is fuck? And what is shit?"
This time, the silence that followed felt like torture.
Axel gritted his teeth tighter. His gaze drilled into the glowing screen as if he could silence Oscar with his eyes alone.
Oscar finally stammered back, his tone panicked but forced into a laugh. "Hahaha... little buddy, don’t say those words, okay? Those are bad words. If Mommy hears you saying them, she’ll punish you."
"Bad words?" Oliver tilted his head curiously.