Chapter 292: Chale Cheney is not a Bastard

Translator: 549690339

“How many times have I told you not to return to Landon!” Spencer Childe glared coldly at Sylvan Cheney, “Your foundation in the US is far more stable than in Landon!”

Even though Spencer Childe was in poor health, his words were strong and powerful when spoken.

As soon as he started speaking, the room became even quieter.

The servants did not dare to breathe, their heads hung low.

“The foundation is just part of my life.” Sylvan’s voice was indifferent.

“What about Yolanda? Why didn’t you bring her back to Landon?”

Spencer Childe looked at Sylvan, a sharp light shining in his murky eyes.

“She has been in Lonton since she was little, and she fits in better there.”

“When do you plan to marry Yolanda?” Spencer Childe pressed on.

Sylvan’s face remained as calm as ever in the face of the change, with a slight smile on his lips, refined and cultured.

“I have my say on my marriage.”

“Your say? I haven’t even asked you about Chale Cheney, what’s the deal? Who did you have him with? You can play around outside, none of us can control that, but bringing back an illegitimate child with no official standing, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Chale is not an illegitimate child.”

Sylvan’s clear eyes grew a bit colder.

“Sylvan Cheney, you are as heartless and ungrateful as Teagan Cheney! Cough…cough…”

Spencer Childe was so angry that he couldn’t catch his breath, coughing non­stop.

A servant hurriedly handed him a tissue.

“Don’t compare me to Teagan Cheney.” Sylvan’s face grew darker.

He had no fondness for that so-called father.

Sylvan raised his hand, said lightly: “Grandfather, let’s eat. If we don’t eat now, the food will get cold.”

Spencer Childe glanced at Sylvan, picked up his chopsticks in silence.

This grandson of his matured overnight after Qiana Childe passed away, and the already taciturn him became even more so.

Moreover, he had a very stubborn temper.

No one could afford to cross him.

Spencer Childe ate in silence, not uttering a word.

Sylvan and Spencer were never close, especially after his mother died. To some extent, Spencer blamed him and his animosity towards Sylvan only grew.

Halfway through the meal—

Spencer could no longer eat, he leaned on his crutch and moved to the sofa.

“Master, Miss Fern is on the phone.”

A servant respectfully handed over the phone.

Spencer Childe answered the call.

“Grandfather, I heard that you’re not doing very well, are you feeling better now? I’m in Lonton, I can’t come over, I’m really sorry.”

“Yolanda, don’t worry, I’m feeling much better.”

“That’s good.” Yolanda Fern sighed with relief, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Just finished, what about you? I heard from Chris Fern that you just had surgery?”

“Grandfather…You know, my old problem came back.” Yolanda’s voice dropped.

“I’m sorry, Yolanda, I’m really sorry.”

Spencer Childe’s eyes brimmed with tears.

He didn’t dare to mention the past.

“Grandfather, you must not say that.” Yolanda said uneasily, “Grandfather, Idinburgh isn’t very far from Lonton. Once I get a little better, I’ll come see you.”

“Good, good, come and keep me company, I really miss you.”

“Um…Grandfather, I heard Sylvan is with you?”

“Um.”

Spencer Childe’s tone changed instantly.

“Then, Grandfather, you should go out for walks and get some sun. If you feel bored, call me. I’m always available.” Yolanda laughed.

“Girl, you too, take care of your health and come by when you have time.”

“Sure, Grandfather. I’ve been idle these past few days and have painted a few pictures. I’ll show them to you someday so you can give me some advice.”