Chapter 121 - 121: I’m not your dad

Translator: 549690339

Molly stood still and pointed at herself, “I don’t need to hear this, right? I’m not a part of your family…”

Even Isabelle had left, so what was the point of her, an outsider, listening to this?

However, Michael Gallagher didn’t pay attention to her. Instead, he looked at Bailey Gallagher and pointed to a nearby chair.

Bailey climbed up, his hands resting on his lap, his nervous expression looking extremely well – behaved.

Molly chuckled softly.

What a perfect match for each other.

“You sit too.” Michael glanced at her.

Molly simply sat on the edge of the bed, ready to “listen attentively.”

Michael’s eyes were clear and sharp, his dark pupils staring at Bailey, “Bailey, I’m not your father.”

Although his tone was light, it also contained a hint of restrained sorrow.

Bailey froze, his little mouth pouting as if he were about to cry.

Seeing him fidgeting with his fingers, Michael’s gaze was gentle, his tone uncharacteristically tender, “You’re still a Gallagher child, you should call me

Uncle.”

Molly’s body stiffened, her pupils dilating slightly.

She hadn’t expected Bailey to be Noah Jenkins’ child.

Did he keep her here just to say this?

Looking at Michael, she caught his gaze just as he looked towards her. They locked eyes, and she felt as if his fiery gaze made her uncomfortable, causing her to subconsciously avert her own eyes.

“Then where’s my father?” Bailey asked.

Michael’s voice was low and suppressed, “Your father went to a place far away.”

“Is he dead?”

Michael hesitated.

Bailey’s small face was incredibly serious, “I know. When adults say someone has gone to a faraway place and turned into a star, it’s to deceive children.

Those people are actually dead and can’t be seen anymore.”

When a five-year-old grasped the concept of life and death so deeply, it hurt Michael and Molly’s hearts.

Being wise beyond one’s years usually means facing many forced mature experiences.

As they spoke, large tears fell from Bailey’s eyes.

Knowing the truth was one thing, but being able to accept it was another.

He didn’t know who his father was, but he knew his father was already dead. Bailey rubbed his eyes and walked in front of Molly, bowing to her, “I’m sorry.”

Since Michael wasn’t his father, Molly wasn’t No. 3, nor had she destroyed his parents’ relationship.

His mom had lied to him.

The photo his mom showed him of his father wasn’t his father but his uncle.

Seeing his little face turning red and then pale, Molly opened and closed her mouth, unable to speak.

She didn’t like Bailey at all, but he was just a five-year-old child after all. Such cruel truth might be too much for him to handle.

The impact of disappointed hopes on a child could be huge, possibly affecting the trajectory of his entire future, leading him down the wrong path.

Michael also considered this.

He patted Bailey’s head, speaking softly, “Although I’m not your father, you’re still a Gallagher child, and Uncle will treat you like his own son in the future.”

Bailey sobbed, sniffling, “But… I don’t have a father anymore…”

An uncle was an uncle, a father was a father.

Other kids had fathers, but he didn’t have one anymore.

Michael’s pupils contracted, and a faint mist covered his dark eyes, filled with pain and repression.

Molly Walker remained silent and slowly turned her face away.

“I have no father anymore,” as if it were an accusation against fate, deafening and pain-filled.

Maybe it was Bailey Gallagher’s cries that disturbed Isabelle Richardson. Unable to bear it any longer, she opened the door and saw Bailey sobbing. She immediately ran over and hugged him. “Bailey, what’s wrong? Don’t cry,

Bailey. ”

She glanced at Molly with resentment, preparing to question her, but Bailey grabbed her hand and said sternly, “Mom, you’re a liar.”

Isabelle’s face stiffened briefly before she quickly put on a smile and patted his back soothingly, “What are you talking about, Bailey…”

Bailey pushed her away, glaring at her. “Big liar! Why did you say Uncle is my dad? He’s not…

With a slap, Isabelle fiercely hit him across the face.

Bailey’s small body was knocked back, and he thudded to the ground. The back of his clothes was torn open by the bed’s metal frame.

The hospital was heated, so Bailey wore thin clothes. Large patches of his skin were exposed – black and blue with bruising and even some lash marks.

Molly watched in horror.

Michael Gallagher’s face was full of fury.

“Isabelle Richardson!”

If she could do such a cruel thing in front of them, who knew what she did to Bailey behind closed doors.

Isabelle’s face was calm, and she knew that Michael must have said something to Bailey.

Even if she loved Michael, at this moment, she couldn’t help but resent him.

What did Bailey understand? Why couldn’t he be more tolerant?

She walked over to Bailey, squatting down, and looked at him coldly. “Bailey Gallagher, listen to me. No matter what others say, Michael Gallagher is your father!”

Isabelle met Michael’s cold gaze, smiling brightly, “Michael, Bailey’s father should have lived well…”

Michael didn’t speak; his cold face suddenly turned extremely ugly.

“You owe Bailey a father.”

As Isabelle’s words fell, pain crept into the depths of Michael’s eyes.

Isabelle lightly patted Bailey’s head, smiling. “Bailey, from now on, other kids won’t laugh at you for not having a dad. Michael will be your father; no one can change that.”

Bailey clenched his small face, turning from pale to red.

When he didn’t know the truth, he could call Michael ‘Dad,’ but now when he knew Michael was his uncle, how could he possibly call him that?

Seeing Isabelle forcefully pushing the child onto Michael, Molly suddenly felt sympathy for him.

She looked at Michael, his handsome face sickly pale, his eyes stained with a deep, panicked darkness.

She had seen many sides of him – usually cold and calm, rarely losing control.

But now, his eyes were tinged with blood, his expression bordering on madness, and he exuded a dangerous aura like an abyss.

From Isabelle’s words, she guessed the death of Noah Jenkins must be related to Michael.

Molly pursed her lips, intending to remain transparent, but she couldn’t help but be upset.

Anyone forced into such a situation would struggle.

Molly scoffed mockingly, her voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Have you ever considered the feelings of those involved? Isn’t this just to satisfy your own desires?”

With a hideous smile, Isabelle’s delicate cheeks twisted as a fleeting shadow flashed across her eyes. “Miss Walker, some things are beyond your understanding. I’m not forcing anything; he will be Bailey’s father from now on, and no one can change that.”

Molly looked at Michael, who had lowered his eyes without argument.

Molly frowned, and an idea suddenly popped into her head.

If she told Michael that the baby in her belly was his….