The Unwilling CEO's Love Game
Chapter 227

Yasmine scoffed, "Save me the sob story."

"You can't tell?"

"Please, even if you were with someone else this morning, you'd act like nothing happened by the afternoon." Yasmine knew all too well about his inexhaustible energy.

Zachary's low chuckle resonated by her ear, "Babe, you know me best. But I'm getting older, without you around, those thoughts don't even cross my mind."

"I'm your ex-wife, remember?" Yasmine spoke sharply. "Don't act all chummy with me."

"Our son called me a few days ago, asking when we're getting back together. If we do it soon, we might give him a little brother or sister."

"In your dreams!" Yasmine shoved him. "Get up, I need to take my pill."

Zachary pinned her down, "What pill? That stuff's bad for you. Don't take it. If you get pregnant, we'll have the baby."

Yasmine gritted her teeth, "Zachary, don't push your luck!"

"I'm serious."

"It was you who wanted the divorce! If I get back with you, I'd be a complete fool."

Zachary nibbled at her shoulder, "Doesn't matter. You'd be the queen of fools, and I'd be the king. We'd still be a match."

At this moment, Yasmine had the intense desire to chop him into pieces.

Arguing with him was a lost cause. Zachary had always been quick-witted with words.

Seeing her quiet down, Zachary rolled off her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight despite her attempts to push him away.

Even if she bit him, he'd let her be.

"First thing tomorrow, you're heading back to Melvin's place," Zachary suddenly said, his tone becoming more serious. "Don't come back here for a while." Yasmine huffed, "Am I cramping your style?"

"Yasmine," Zachary said with a hint of exasperation, "just do as I say."

"Fine, I'll leave tomorrow and won't be in your way." Yasmine wriggled out of his embrace and nearly stumbled as she got out of bed.

Mumbling a curse, she made her way to the bathroom.

Zachary followed her quickly. As Yasmine tried to push him away, he swiftly shut the door and leaned against it, preventing her from opening it.

The bathroom was decently sized but felt cramped compared to the rest of the house.

Yasmine wasn't shy about him seeing her naked. After all, their kid was all grown up, and there was no need for pretense.

She filled the tub with water and settled in for a hot bath, her muscles finally relaxing from the soreness and weakness.

Zachary smartly didn't crowd her, just took a quick shower, and then waited for her.

"I'll have someone drive you tomorrow," Zachary offered, not wanting to argue further. "And if you want Preston to join you, I can arrange to have him sent to Yanova City."

With her eyes closed, Yasmine didn't even want to acknowledge him.

When she didn't respond, Zachary didn't press on. "Don't soak too long," he said, before he left the room.

Once the door closed, Yasmine's eyes snapped open.

Years had passed since she and Zachary divorced, but she was still called 'Mrs. Turner' both at home and outside.

There was a time someone dared to say she was no longer Mrs. Turner, and Zachary beat him so bad, that even his parents couldn't recognize him. Since then, everyone knew that divorced or not, she was still the boss's woman.

It was the respect and status Zachary granted her.

But she was well aware that over time, her and Zachary's relationship had been worn down.

Back when Zachary was a small-time thug, she could feel his unique love for her even in times of danger.

If there was a single bun, he'd save a third for himself and give her two-thirds.

He ate slowly, and he'd give her the rest of his if she finished hers.

When money was tight, he'd smoke the cheapest cigarettes.

She'd often hide a couple of his cigarettes, and he'd smoke sparingly. When he ran out and craved them badly, he'd get the hidden ones. It was a little trick to make him smoke less.

Life was tough when they were broke, but their happiness was unimaginable.

Now, Zachary was someone who struck fear into others, constantly sought after for favors, flattered, and socializing with all sorts. His nature had changed.

Women flocked around him more and more, and he could change his arm candy daily. They all called her 'Sis' and 'Mrs.', but only she knew that her relationship with Zachary was not what it used to be. They couldn't go back to how things were.

But over the years, Zachary acted as though he'd forgotten they were divorced, giving her the estate and playing the role of the man of the house.

The staff still addressed him as 'Sir' and her as 'Mrs.' despite everything.

Yasmine no longer cared about his personal life, even if she saw photos on Twitter of girls clinging to Zachary or heard about the expensive jewelry he lavished on some model.

She didn't care anymore. To her, Zachary was just a consolation when she felt lonely. If not him, then someone else.

Yasmine stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around herself and walked out to replace the man gone. She had grown used to this way of life.

She then called Melvin.

Melvin was dozing on the couch when his sister's call came in. With eyes still closed and a lazy tone, he answered.

"I'm coming back tomorrow."

"Why bother returning if you're just going to leave again?" Melvin pinched the bridge of his nose. "What's brought this on?" "Is it wrong to worry about you being lonely?"

Melvin scoffed, "If you really care about me, you wouldn't leave me earlier. At the end of the day, you miss him, don't you?" "Pfft, what nonsense are you talking about?" Yasmine denied it.

"You're clearly getting the boot again." Melvin rubbed his forehead. "Just hurry back if you're coming."

"It's like you don't welcome me to be back."

"Not at all," Melvin replied and abruptly ended the call.

With the call over, Melvin couldn't fall back asleep.

He checked the clock. It was just past five.

He got up, rummaged through the kitchen and began to rinse rice for porridge. Then he steamed an egg custard and fried a few dumplings. Hearing movement upstairs, he stepped out to see.

Jocelyn tiptoed down the stairs. Upon seeing him already up, she noticed the fire in the kitchen stove. "What are you doing?" "Making breakfast," Melvin answered. "Is he awake?"

"No, I'm just going to fix a bottle of formula. He'll want it as soon as he wakes up," Jocelyn said, moving to pour some water. Melvin turned off the stove, "The oatmeal's ready. Why don't you have some, and I'll keep an eye on him."

Before he could finish, Euston's cries pierced the silence.

Jocelyn hurried upstairs with the bottle, Melvin close on her heels.

Settling into a rocking chair with Euston in her arms, Jocelyn began to feed him.

Melvin leaned against the door frame, watching. "If I hadn't bailed all those years ago, would we have a kid by now?"

Jocelyn squirmed at the question.

"I don't know."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever is meant to be, will be," Melvin said, his gaze fixed on Jocelyn. He had time now, time to make up for what he'd lost and to reclaim missed opportunities. Jocelyn didn't bite, letting the conversation drop.

Once Euston finished his bottle, it wasn't long before he needed a change.

She cleaned him up, then took him to the bathroom to wash his little bottom.

Watching her bustle around, Melvin frowned, "How could that Castiel guy have the nerve to dump his kid on you? Doesn't he know how hard it is to raise a child?"

After Jocelyn patted Euston dry, she laid him on the bed, dusted him with some baby powder and slipped on a fresh diaper before dressing him in little pants.

"No parent leaves their child willingly. If it weren't for desperate times, they wouldn't leave their kid with a stranger," she said matter-of-factly.

Melvin fell silent.

Jocelyn suddenly realized, perhaps in Melvin's world, he might never have felt that parental love.

She turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

Melvin's eyes flickered, "Normal parents should be like that. You're not wrong."

Jocelyn felt an unexpected surge of sympathy for him, thinking of the trauma he must have suffered, witnessing his mother's death so young, blood splattered in front of his eyes. The fallout from his parents' marriage was something others couldn't comprehend.

There was no advice she could offer for such deep-seated pain, something that could only be healed if someone pulled it out of his heart - and it wasn't as simple as pulling weeds from the ground. "Could you take Euston downstairs? I need to change," she asked, handing the baby to Melvin.

With Euston in his arms, Melvin left the bedroom.

All fed and contented, Euston seemed full of life. His tiny hand touched Melvin's face, babbling "Dada."

With the soft touch and the tender voice, Melvin had to admit, it cleared some of the shadows in his heart, like clouds parting to reveal the sun's warmth.