Chapter 5

My ex-husband has a son

Lana's POV

Mother? The voice echoed in my mind as I realized reuniting with my child. The same child I now recognized bore the traits and characteristics of my offspring; it could not be a mere coincidence. Raising my eyebrows at the individuals the child referred to as parents sent a chill down my spine; it was simply unbelievable.

"Did you call her mother?" I inquired of the child, who nodded affirmatively, a remarkably intelligent and handsome boy. "Yes, she is my mother, and this is my father," he indicated towards Donovan, who stood weakly, gazing at us with eyes that appeared weary and filled with unshed tears. Perhaps he was regretting his decision to leave me, or he was simply astonished to see me after five years of separation. "Oh! Your parents?" I posed the question, and in that instant, the same woman who had contributed to the dissolution of my family rushed towards us, embracing the child. "Sweetheart, Mother is here, okay?" she murmured, stroking his hair while casting a glance in my direction.

"Mrs. Lana Gray?" a voice interrupted my thoughts. I smiled at the speaker as I approached the stage to address the audience, yet my mind remained preoccupied with the child. How could Donovan have fathered a child when he was impotent? Had he adopted a child? No, this was impossible; I could stake my life on the fact that Donovan was incapable of having children.

The atmosphere on stage was charged with unspoken anticipation, as the audience directed their attention towards me, eagerly awaiting my welcoming address. I took a moment to clear my throat into the microphone, inhaling and exhaling deeply, as if my breath were about to falter.

“I am grateful for the presence of everyone here today, from the… umm…”

I momentarily lost my train of thought, chuckling softly as the audience responded with applause, finding humor in the absurdity of the situation. I scanned the crowd in search of the boy rumored to be Donovan's son.

“I would like to express my gratitude to Mr. Jan for his assistance with the project during my absence.”

I glanced toward the area where the aforementioned participant was seated, and he promptly waved to the five individuals in attendance, who responded with applause. I positioned my arms on the pulpit while gripping the microphone, and I extended a greeting to the new clients present for the project launch.

As I was speaking, the speaker approached and leaned in to whisper to me, "Ma'am, Mr. Donovan is also here and will take the microphone after your speech." His tone was calm, yet his words awakened a deep-seated resentment I harbored for that name.

"Until then," I replied, maintaining my gaze on the audience. He nodded and stepped aside, but I remained resolute in my decision to never reconcile with those who have inflicted pain on me, particularly Donovan. The suffering he caused will echo loudly, rendering any plea for mercy a mere refrain.

I indicated that Mr. Jan would take the microphone, proceeding with the next step of the event. At that moment, the individual who had previously conveyed information to me approached, reminding me about Donovan. I responded with a furrowed brow, which effectively expressed my thoughts on the matter.

Mr. Jan entered the stage with a sinister grin, and I glanced at Donovan, who appeared taken aback by my actions. This marked the onset of his troubles. "Thank you, Mrs. Lana," Mr. Jan said, extending his hand for a shake, which I accepted with pleasure.

"Let us give a round of applause to this remarkable woman," he announced into the microphone, and the audience acknowledged this with applause. I offered a wave and stepped down from the stage, my heels echoing with each step until I reached the final step and returned to my seat.

A few minutes after the entire incident, I felt a pressing need to use the restroom; however, I was approached by an investor who had attended a seminar with me. Unfortunately, we had not established a rapport due to my inherent distance from him. His demeanor was hardly sympathetic, and I recalled his disrespectful attitude towards a cleaner during the seminar, leading me to question his capacity for human empathy.

"Mrs. Lana," he called out, his voice trailing behind me, but I chose to ignore him, recognizing the foolishness of my actions. I snorted in frustration, clenching my fists. He called out again, "Mrs. Lana," this time with a harsher tone, perhaps irritated by my silence.

I felt a surge of anger as I muttered through gritted teeth, "What is your problem? Can't you just leave me alone? I despise it when you intrude upon my life. Don't you understand?”

I apologize, Mrs. Lana, but I require your confident approval to join your company. I have lucrative dispensing deals to propose, he stated. As I prepared to endure his nonsensical chatter, I crossed my arms beneath my chest, observing the self-absorbed young man. "Deal" he inquired.

I responded, "I do not require any deal from you; simply leave me be. I have other clients to attend to and do not wish to engage in business with you. Please, just go away. Who invited you to this opportunity? It was intended for potential candidates, not for you," I retorted, allowing him to wallow in his disappointment.

I cannot negotiate with someone of his character. With a sharp hiss, I closed the door forcefully and leaned against it, exhaling deeply. What a nuisance!

Overwhelmed by the memories of my late husband, I felt my heart tremble with the weight of an unrefined past. I encountered my ex-husband, whom I hold in disdain, as I lowered my gaze. It was then that I noticed a young boy who had referred to Donovan as his father earlier.

"Hello, young prince, what brings you to the ladies' restroom?" I inquired, to which he responded with a furrowed brow, "I need to use the restroom, ma'am. I didn't realize this was a women's facility," he replied calmly, his voice imbued with sincerity.

Strangely, Donavon has a son.