Chapter 139: How Many Times Did You Sleep With Him?

Just as Valentine Anderson noticed the bloodstains on his fingers, he attempted to conceal them. But it was too late; Andrea had already caught sight of the crimson marks.

"Please get the first aid kit," Andrea said, turning towards Housekeeper Win with concern.

Valentine knew the blood was not his own but that of his twin brother, Lucas. He tried to downplay the situation with a hint of anxiety, "There's no need, really. It's nothing—a little wash and it will be gone."

Despite his reassurances, Andrea's face remained etched with concern. "Let me have a look at that," she insisted.

Valentine, however, quickly withdrew his hand behind his back. "I'm fine, Andrea. Where's Pete? I've brought him a robot," he deflected, changing the subject.

Sensing the tension in the room, Housekeeper Win didn't wait for Andrea to respond. "Mr. Valentine, Pete is in his room," she interjected.

"Thank you, Mrs. Win," Valentine replied, and he made his way up the staircase.

Andrea's suspicion grew; the idea that the blood on Valentine's fingers might be Lucas's made her heart race with worry.

"Win, have you tried calling Lucas?" Andrea inquired, her voice tinged with urgency. Lucas hadn't been answering his phone, and she had instructed Housekeeper Win to use her personal number or the home line if necessary.

"I've called, ma'am Andrea. Sir Lucas isn't picking up," Housekeeper Win responded, her tone reflecting her disappointment.

Andrea's anxiety intensified upon hearing this, and with the thought that the blood might belong to Lucas, she felt a wave of restlessness wash over her. She hurried up the staircase.

Reaching the corridor, Andrea noticed Valentine standing outside Pete's room, taking several deep breaths as if to compose himself.

She observed him for a moment, then, without a word, continued on to her study room.

Valentine Anderson was so absorbed in crafting the right words for Pete that he failed to notice Andrea's concerned gaze. His focus was solely on steadying his jittery nerves through measured breaths.

With a hesitant arm raise and drop, he finally steeled himself, knocking twice before announcing, "Pete, it's your dad. I've brought you a robot."

"Go away! You're not my dad, and I don't want your stupid gift!" came Pete's muffled rejection from behind the locked door.

Valentine's jaw tensed, his face darkening with frustration, but he fought to keep his anger in check. He knocked again, this time with more force. "Stop this, Pete. Open the door."

Only silence answered him. Pete continued to ignore Valentine's pleas.

After a tense two-minute wait, Valentine's patience crumbled. He pounded on the door with his fist, the sound booming down the corridor, as he bellowed, "Open the door right now, Pete!"

But Pete remained silent, defiant.

Valentine, now seething, could no longer contain his fury. "I am your father, Pete. That's not going to change. You need to accept that, because nobody else is going to take you in as their son."

Pete's voice, tinged with anger, shot back, "I don't care! You'll never be my dad!"

Driven to the edge by the stubborn rejection, Valentine slammed his fist against the door and roared once more, demanding it be opened.

He stepped back and delivered a bicycle-kick to the door. The ruckus summoned the household staff, and even the housekeeper, Win, felt compelled to investigate.

As she approached the chaotic scene, she heard Valentine's shouts as he kicked the door, "I'm your father! You will listen to me, Pete. Open this door!"

Terrified by the unfolding drama, Housekeeper Win hurried over and offered a solution. "Sir Valentine, please let me fetch the spare key."

But Valentine refused, fueled by a misguided determination. "No! He's my son. He must obey me. I will handle this."

"You're not my dad!" Pete's voice cracked from the other side of the door, clearly terrified by Valentine's aggressive attempts to enter.

Fueled by this repeated defiance, Valentine lashed out with a kick so mighty it echoed through the house like a thunderclap.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, Valentine?" Andrea's voice cut through the tension, her anger palpable as the staff parted to let her through.

She strode up to Valentine, her expression one of dismay. "Val, is this how you plan to make Pete see you as his father? You should just take a trip to the hospital, get a DNA test, and leave the rest to the professionals. Can't you see you're frightening him?"

Chastened by her words and the realization of his own actions, Valentine fell silent. With a face clouded by both guilt and irritation, he turned and stormed away. He had hoped his son would be eager to accept him, but it seemed that hope was nothing more than wishful thinking.

Valentine Anderson stepped out into the grand courtyard of his mansion, the twilight air cool against his skin. Lighting a cigarette, he drew in a long drag, the smoke curling into the fading light as he pondered his next move. His fingers brushed through his hair, betraying a sense of frustration and exasperation. Another ring of smoke escaped his lips as he muttered bitterly, "It is all your fault Lucas, I don't know what you told that little brat that he refused to accept me as his father."

With a final, frustrated puff, Valentine discarded the spent cigarette, grinding it underfoot before he allowed the calmness of the evening to soothe his frazzled nerves. He turned, making his way back into the mansion's opulent interior.

Upon entering the bedroom, the sight of Andrea in the midst of dressing caught his attention. Her skin was partially exposed as she slipped into her lingerie, and a surge of desire washed over Valentine. He approached her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she stood before the mirror.

"I've missed you so much, Andrea," he murmured, his lips trailing kisses along her neck.

But Andrea's response was cold; she stiffened and shrugged off his embrace, turning to face him with a distant look. "You must be tired, go to sleep," she suggested, her voice devoid of warmth.

Valentine's voice was insistent, laced with unfulfilled longing. "I'm not tired. I've missed you, Andrea." He leaned in, seeking her lips.

Yet, Andrea turned away, avoiding his advance. His frustration mounting, Valentine's gaze fell on Lucas's watch resting on the bedside table. His eyes became stormy, his jealousy palpable.

"You had sex with him?" he accused, his voice rising. "How many times? Answer me!"

In a moment of anger, he reached out and grasped Andrea's arm, demanding the truth.