Chapter 311


    Chapter 311 One–Sided Pursuit


    Jean paid little attention to Joanna’s expression or mood,pletely indifferent to her presence.


    With Wrenn resting, he proceeded to visit his father in the study.


    Frederic had refrained from visiting thepany because of Wrenn’s illness, choosing instead to


    remain at home. Her well–being weighed heavily on his mind, and he found himself unable to focus on


    work during this time.


    As Jean entered the study, he was greeted by the sight of his father, seated behind his desk, a


    contemtive expression on his face as he leisurely smoked a cigar.


    The haze of smoke enveloped the room, the scent of tobo permeating every corner.


    Jean’s brow twitched as he approached, taking a seat across from his father. He offered a reminder,


    “Mom will be mad if she catches you smoking again.”


    Frederic nced at him before lifting the cigar to his lips, exhaling a plume of smoke, and casually


    dropping a


    one knows, who’s to say anything?”ment, “Then don’t let her find out. If


    Raising an eyebrow, Jean inquired, “You quit smoki


    moking long ago. Why have you taken it up again?”


    Frederic let out a resigned sigh, “It’s out of concern. When ites to the two of you, I have plenty to


    worry about. My hair has turned gray because of you


    Jean cast a nce at his father’s silver hair but remained silent.


    “It’s unclear if your condition will improve. Your mother’s health is fragile right now, and that has me


    concerned. If anything were to happen between the two of you…”


    His voice trailed off, the weight of his worry evident. “What would I do then?”


    Sympathy softening his expression, Jean spoke up, “Mom only caught a cold. Are you jinxing her?


    Besides, my health is improving. Neera is helping me seek treatment, and my condition has rarely


    red up. Isn’t that a positive sign? You shouldn’t be such a pessimist.”


    Frederic’s words caught in his throat, the trembling cigar nearly falling onto hisp.


    He stared angrily at Jean, his frustration evident as he eximed, “I’m worried about you as well!”


    At the same time, he pressed his cigar into the ashtray, his expression unwavering as he added, “Plus,


    you’re not fully recovered yet. I won’t find peace until you make a fulleback. It’s a constant worry


    for me.”


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    Recognizing Frederic’s genuine anxiety for his health, Jean offered reassurance in a patient tone,


    “Don’t worry, old man. I’ll outlive you, and Mom will be healthy.”


    Frederic silently held onto that hope.


    However, no matter how you phrased it, it did sound rather awkward!


    As Frederic thought about this, a sense of unease settled in. Rolling his eyes, he retorted, “Off you go,


    you little rascal! If you’ve got nothing to do, don’t disturb me. Thepany has plenty to attend to, and


    I’ve let you have your way. Why are you cking off and sneaking around the house?”


    of


    Maintaining hisposure, Jean responded, “People are keeping an eye on things at thepany. I


    wouldn’t feel at ease leaving if it weren’t for Mom. I’ll returnter tonight. For now… Would you care for


    a game chess?”


    Frederic’s heart warmed upon hearing this.


    A devoted chess enthusiast, Frederic often roped people into games with him.


    His younger son had impressive chess skills, and each match was a true contest.


    But he aimed to maintain a facade of arrogance, remarking, “You still know how to make your Dad


    happy.”


    Nheless, he deftly set up the chessboard, his hands skillfully arranging the pieces. “I’ll be the ck


    pieces, and you can be white.”


    Jean yfully pursed his lips, leaning in attentively as he reached for a piece from the chess set…


    The father and son spent the entire morning engrossed in the game.


    By noon, they shared a meal, and when Mr. Jenkins mentioned Frederic’s recentck of appetite, Jean


    encouraged him to eat more.


    After lunch, Frederic took a brief nap, while Jean was managing his emails in the living room.


    Unable to remain still, Joanna found an opportune moment to descend the stairs and casually asked,


    “Mr. Beauvort, would you like some coffee? Should I make a cup for you?”


    Without lifting his gaze, Jean promptly declined, his retort sharp, “No. If you’re capable enough, why


    haven’t you managed to cure my mother sooner?”