the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 508: One Day He Will Be Betrayed

As the months passed and her pregnancy advanced, Delphine felt her body growing heavier. Finnian sent her a ssage halfway through, rely stating that the right opportunity had yet to arise for that matter, and told her to wait patiently.

Delphine understood as well; this was by no ans the ideal ti. Ever since Ignatius Leclair had moved in, he spent most of his ti with her and the child. This man, perpetually taciturn, carried a deeply contemplative mind, sharp and astute. If she had any intentions or secrets, they would be incredibly hard to keep from him.

So Delphine simply buried that matter deep within her heart and adopted a more passive attitude.

Ignatius Leclair had been staying in Northern Town for a few months now, rarely returning ho. The news of her pregnancy, naturally, could not remain hidden from the old patriarch of the Leclair Family.

The old patriarch had initially planned to travel to Switzerland for continued convalescence in the spring, but due to the unresolved situation with Bessie Leclair, his plans were delayed. Upon learning that his grandson had practically moved in with Delphine, and with the vague news of her pregnancy, the patriarch could no longer sit idly. He found an opportunity to send Ignatius away temporarily and made a visit himself.

Delphine was utterly unsurprised by the patriarch showing up at her door.

The old patriarch of the Leclair Family looked at Delphine’s already visible baby bump, caught between his longing for a great-grandchild and his reservations about her identity. Within him, an intense struggle began.

The two sat facing each other, ensnared in a peculiar silence.

"You are not suited to be Ignatius’s wife. Your body is too frail, your temperant overly reclusive, and you harbor resentnt toward him," the patriarch stated bluntly, his expression uncompromising.

Delphine smiled faintly—it was a comprehensive analysis, especially on the last point. The patriarch understood her far better than Ignatius himself.

In all these days, no matter what Ignatius did, no matter how composed she appeared, resentnt was sothing that accumulated over years, sothing that wouldn’t simply vanish overnight.

"You’re absolutely right. I don’t wish to be involved with him either. However, he might feel guilty about , and his personality tends toward obsession and dominance," Delphine said calmly.

The patriarch snorted coldly, tapping his cane on the floor with a hint of displeasure. "Girl, I see right through your intentions. You returned here solely for revenge, with my grandson as your primary target. No matter how you try to conceal it, I’ve lived long enough to be certain of this."

If Delphine had been rely a harmless, fragile woman, and if Ignatius liked her, the patriarch might have turned a blind eye. Yet this girl sought neither wealth nor love—she stayed beside him purely out of hatred. He could not tolerate the possibility of his most cherished grandson facing betrayal in the future.

Delphine lowered her eyes, her long lashes feathering down like tiny fans, casting a silhouette. After all this ti, the Leclair patriarch was the first person to see through her so thoroughly.

She was not a virtuous woman. She had returned empty-handed, carrying the scars of prolonged suffering, intent on using her fragile, failing body to stir the tranquility of South Seas. When Ignatius had pressured and coerced her, she had only half-heartedly resisted.

Becoming his lover, even bearing his child—what did that matter? The deeper Ignatius fell for her, the more he would feel the pain of betrayal when she finally turned on him, the pain she herself had endured all those years ago.

This corrupt, self-loathing, and despairing emotion coiled within her like a venomous snake, striking her heart unawares, leaving her bloodied and broken.

"What will it take for you to leave my grandson?" the patriarch asked sternly.

Delphine looked up, her ink-black eyes revealing a trace of contemplation. After a long mont, she replied coldly, "The decision is not mine to make. It’s in Ignatius Leclair’s hands."