My Child and I Married a Billionaire novel Chapter 239

Chapter 239: Chapter 239: The Emperor Isn’t Worried, but the Eunuchs Are

"I thought that if you came out here to cool off for a couple of days, you’d eventually understand that I have your best interests at heart. But now... go on, keep making your deliveries. I’ll throw away my pride, and so will your mother. We’ll just pretend we never had a son. You want freedom? You want independence? Then go fend for yourself."

"But don’t make me look down on you. If you’ve got the guts, then build a real career out of delivering food. In three to five years, the people you grew up with will have multiplied their net worth hundreds of times over. If you’re still just a delivery guy in cheap clothes eating junk food then, it’ll be too late for tears!"

With that, his father angrily stormed off, leaving him behind.

Damien Vaughn had just returned to his office after lunch in the company cafeteria when Brandon Jacobs started a video call with him.

Not wanting to see his face, Damien answered with voice only.

"What is it?"

"Damn! Why didn’t you reply to any of my messages? You didn’t even answer my video call! You trying to work yourself to death? Listen, did you hear something happened to Zeke Walton?"

Damien didn’t know. His schedule was packed every day, leaving him no time to think about trivial matters—with the sole exception of Cecelia Archer.

If Brandon Jacobs hadn’t brought him up, Damien might have forgotten about Zeke Walton entirely.

But they were childhood friends, after all. Even though they’d had a falling out, Damien couldn’t help but worry when he heard Zeke was in trouble.

"What happened to him?"

Brandon Jacobs was stunned.

"Weren’t you two inseparable growing up? He used to hit you up all the time. What happened...?"

Damien couldn’t be bothered to explain and cut him off impatiently.

"I just got back from lunch and haven’t checked my phone. Are you going to tell me or not?"

Brandon Jacobs rambled on, "No wonder you went dark after all those messages. Okay, okay, I’ll talk!"

"Zeke Walton ran away from home, and it’s causing a huge stir. Sounds like he’s completely broken things off with his family—he’s even started delivering food. Today, Howie Lewis and that gang of bastards saw him, snapped a picture, and posted it in our old class group chat. Now it’s all over our circle, and everyone is freaking out. People are saying all kinds of crap. Damn, it makes me furious just seeing it."

"Vaughn, what the hell is Zeke thinking? It’s one thing to fight with his parents, but why is he ghosting us too? At a time like this, he won’t even ask his buddies for a hand. Instead, he runs off to deliver food. What’s going through his head? Don’t tell me you didn’t know about this either. He didn’t even reach out to you? What really happened? It can’t be that everyone’s guesses were right..."

Damien tuned out his rambling, switched screens, and scrolled through the screenshots Brandon Jacobs had sent him.

’It really is Zeke Walton.’

’That idiot. He’s really out there delivering food.’

’Has he been gone long? Has he even been eating right? How did he get so thin?’

Seeing the mocking comments in the screenshots made Damien just as uneasy as Brandon Jacobs. But then he remembered how Zeke had backstabbed him for that bastard Shane Grant, argued with him self-righteously, and cut off all contact. At that thought, his heart hardened.

"His parents aren’t even worried, so what are you all getting worked up about? The Emperor is calm, but the eunuchs are panicking."

Brandon Jacobs: "..."

"How could I forget what kind of person you are? Fine, fine, fine. We’re the eunuchs, and you’re the Emperor. We’re just meddling where we don’t belong. Just pretend I never said anything. Go on, get back to your work."

After hanging up, Damien opened the photo of Zeke Walton one more time, then deleted his chat with Brandon Jacobs.

’Was he really content to just hide away in this rented apartment, scraping by day to day with a girl from the countryside who pinched every penny?’

As he delivered food that afternoon, Zeke Walton no longer felt the sense of ease and enjoyment from the morning. He was weighed down by pressure, his mind racing with thoughts.

When he walked through the door that evening, Amina had dinner ready and was waiting for him.

She was frightened by how exhausted he looked.

"How many deliveries did you make today? Did you have to go really far? Why are you so exhausted? Are you feeling sick? Should we go to the hospital?"

Zeke Walton desperately wanted to tell Amina, ’I’m sorry. I don’t want to deliver food anymore.’

But then he looked at the spotless floor, the simple but neatly arranged bowls and chopsticks on the table, and the new books she had just bought, now spread out by her bed. He swallowed the words.

’No matter what, I have to stick it out for now,’ he thought. ’I’ll wait until she gets into college. I can’t go back on my promise the moment I’ve made it.’

"I’m not sick, just tired. I don’t feel like eating. I’m going to head to bed."

’How could his body handle going to sleep without eating after running around all day?’

Amina wanted to say something, but she wasn’t good at comforting people. All she could do was watch, her face full of worry, as he disappeared under the covers.

He didn’t sleep all night.

The next morning, after splashing his face with cold water, Zeke Walton looked at himself in the mirror—thin, pale, with heavy dark circles under his eyes. He was so ugly he almost didn’t recognize himself.