Hospitality Man Series I: His Babymaker Client (ENGLISH VERSION)

CHAPTER 29

LONDON

Old Masters’ (Groderick I.O.W.T.Z. Berqez Beaurlington and Kate Nadele Amadel Beaurlington) POV

“DA, how was work?” my wife greeted the moment I stepped inside. She pressed a soft kiss on my lips before reaching up to loosen my tie.

Kate has been handling Tristan Furniture Company on our behalf, while I still oversee the rest of our businesses. But aside from being a businessman, I also serve as a senator in this country. It’s my last term, so I’m simply enduring the remaining time.

“Fine. Everything’s fine,” I said, heading straight to the living area and dropping onto the couch with a weary sigh.

“Did you call Jims?” she asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I replied shortly. I was exhausted. There had been a senate meeting earlier, and it drained the last bit of my energy.

Soon enough, she emerged from the kitchen, carefully carrying a tray with a teapot and two teacups. She placed it on the glass table before pouring us both a cup.

“How’s our son?” she asked, handing me mine.

“He’s doing very well, actually,” I said, taking a sip.

She smiled, but I could see it—the way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. I knew her too well.

Placing my teacup down, I reached out and wiped the moisture forming in her eyes.

“Kate, why are you sad? I told you, he’s fine,” I murmured.

“Yes, he is… but are we fine?” she asked, her voice laced with a pain I knew all too well.

Guilt settled deep in my chest. If I hadn’t blamed our son for everything five years ago, maybe… just maybe, we would all be happy now. His aunts and uncles in the Philippines haven’t even met him yet. Not even his grandfather.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Everything was my fault.”

She sighed and gently pulled away. “Anyway,” she said, wiping the traces of tears from her cheeks. “What else did Jims say?”

I hesitated for a moment before deciding to tell her. “Our son has a girlfriend.”

Her hand froze midair, the teacup barely touching her lips as she looked at me in surprise.

“Really?” she asked, her voice a mixture of shock and excitement.

I nodded, chuckling at her reaction.

“He must be so happy right now,” she concluded, a wistful smile on her lips.

“Yeah, he is,” I admitted.

She let out a deep sigh. “I want to see him happy again. It’s heartbreaking that all I can do is picture his smile in my head.”

My heart clenched at her words. That was why, even after discovering that Saphire was a Tan, I had already made up my mind—I would accept her. The past is in the past. I refuse to hold on to old wounds.

“Do you want to know her name?” I asked, hoping to lighten her mood.

Her eyes twinkled with curiosity. “You know?”

I nodded.

“She’s Saphire Ravens.”

The moment the name left my lips, her eyes widened in shock.

“Are you serious?”

I simply nodded again, a small smile playing on my lips.

“How did they meet?” she asked, now thoroughly intrigued.

“I don’t know. Jims didn’t mention much about their relationship.”

She exhaled softly. “I see.”

A thoughtful expression crossed her face before she said, “Alright, I’ll give them a call tomorrow.”

“Call Jims directly. Our son isn’t always home,” I advised.

She nodded. “Got it.”

Silence fell between us as we both sipped our tea. The warmth of it did little to soothe the heaviness in my chest.

After a while, I spoke again. “Do you remember the story I told you about my parents’ love story?”

“Yes…” she said, looking at me questioningly.

“Then you must still remember Eden Mae Reincliffe Tan.”

She nodded slowly.

“Saphire is her granddaughter.”

Her entire body stiffened, and she stared at me as if I had just told her the most impossible thing.

“You’re lying,” she declared.

I shook my head, silently assuring her that I wasn’t.

“Does he know?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t think so, MA.”

She let out a deep, heavy sigh. “It’s better that he doesn’t find out for now,” she murmured, her grip tightening around her teacup.

And just like that, the weight of the past settled between us once more.

PHILIPPINES

Perv’s POV

"Leave those," I instructed my PSGs as they helped pack up my things.

"Just leave the sofas, the bed, and the kitchen appliances," I reminded them.

They all nodded in acknowledgment.

I heard a faint noise in the background, prompting me to glance around. My eyes landed on Jims, engrossed in a phone conversation. For a second, I thought it was something serious.

Shaking my head, I headed toward the closet to check on the packing.

“Young master, everything from your closet has been packed,” one of my PSGs informed me.

“Good. Take it down to the car,” I instructed before stepping back into the room.

The place was a flurry of movement, everyone occupied with the move. I took it upon myself to gather my personal items from the drawer beside my bed when Jims suddenly approached me.

“Young master, someone wants to speak with you,” he said, handing me his phone.

I raised a brow. “Who is it?”

He remained silent, simply offering the phone to me. With curiosity piqued, I took it from his hand.

“Hello?”

“Tristan, is that you, son?”

I froze. My breath hitched.

"Mom?" I blurted, my grip tightening around the phone.

Jims, sensing that I needed privacy, quietly slipped away. I stood up and walked toward the terrace, letting the cool evening air wash over me.

“Yes, it’s me, son. How are you?” Her voice carried warmth, but beneath it, I sensed a hint of apprehension—perhaps even longing.

“I’m fine,” I answered shortly. But in truth, hearing her voice again stirred something deep inside me. A yearning I refused to acknowledge. “How about you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you again,” she said softly, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

I clenched my jaw. I never liked seeing her cry, even as a child. And even if I harbored resentment, I could never stand her tears.

“Please don’t cry,” I murmured. “It makes me feel guilty.”

She let out a breathy chuckle, composing herself. “So, how’s the moving going?”

“Smooth so far. We should be done in about an hour,” I replied.

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. It was as if we were both waiting—unsure who would speak next.

Then, she broke it. “So… I heard something interesting,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

I stiffened. “You already know?” I shot a glare toward the direction Jims had disappeared to. That bastard. He wasted no time informing my parents.

“Of course. So? How are you two doing?”

The wind slipped through the open glass doors, cool and crisp against my skin.

I hesitated. “My girlfriend…” I paused, debating whether to tell her the truth now or wait for the right moment. But keeping it from them would only make things more complicated. I sighed and finally admitted, “She’s pregnant.”

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. I braced myself, expecting an outburst—maybe even disappointment.

Instead, my mother gasped, excitement evident in her voice. “Really?”

I blinked. That was not the reaction I was expecting.

“How far along?” she asked eagerly.

“Just a week,” I admitted.

“Son, congratulations! Oh, I’m so happy for you. Please extend my congratulations to Saphire as well. Geez! I can barely contain my excitement—I can’t wait to tell your father!” she gushed.

Panic flared in my chest. “No—No, Mom! Don’t tell him just yet. He’ll be furious,” I warned.

I still remembered the last time he found out I got someone pregnant. His fury had been unmatched, his words cutting deeper than any physical blow ever could. He had never laid a hand on me—violence was not in our family’s nature—but words? Words had a way of leaving wounds that never truly healed.

“Don’t worry, son. He’ll understand. He’s sorry for what happened five years ago. He really is,” she said gently.

I fell silent. I didn’t want to talk about him.

“Tristan,” she continued, her voice full of quiet pleading. “I know you’re still hurting because of your father. But please… give him a chance to make it up to you.”

I remained silent.

“Let him make it up to you through his grandchild,” she added. “You know how the Beaurlington family is, don’t you? Family is everything to us, even if we don’t always express it well.”

I exhaled sharply. “I’ll let you tell him about the baby,” I finally said. “But I won’t allow him to dictate how I raise my child. My way will be different—more refined and easier than his.”

There was still bitterness in my voice, but I didn’t bother hiding it. My father had his methods, and I had mine.

She sighed, understanding my stance. “I hear you, son.”

Silence fell between us again.

“Son?” she called softly.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath before speaking again. “I really am happy that you talked to me. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “I’m happy too,” I admitted, my voice quieter than before. It wasn’t a lie—I was truly glad to hear from her.

“Okay. I hope I can talk to Saphire soon. I’ll call you again, and if I don’t reach you, I’ll ask Jims for your number, alright?” she said cheerfully.

“Sure, Mom,” I replied.

“Take care, son. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” I said, then quickly ended the call before she could respond. I knew her well—she would have teared up again, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that right now.

Sighing, I stepped back into my unit and handed the phone back to Jims. The moment I did, I noticed his stupid grin.

“What’s with that smug look?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Nothing,” he replied, still grinning like an i***t.

I rolled my eyes. “Cut it out,” I muttered before turning my attention back to my things. The move was almost done—mostly my clothes and a few personal furniture pieces remained.

The last of my belongings had finally been loaded. I turned to Jims and the rest of my men.

“You guys head home first,” I told them. “I’m stopping by the shop to pick up Saphire.”

I had promised her. And I never broke my promises.