Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 347

Chapter 347

Anna’s POV:

After finishing in the bathroom, I emerged with damp hair and wearing Blake’s oversized shirt, only to find he had disappeared. The bedroom was empty, no sign of him anywhere.

I hope he doesn’t suspect anything. I don’t want him to know about the photos, at least not yet.

I decided to check on Oliver before heading downstairs. His room was just down the hall from Nora’s, and I knocked softly before pushing the door open.

“Oliver? Time to get up.”

To my surprise, the room was empty. The bed was already made–the comforter pulled up neatly, pillows arranged with care–and the window was open, letting in a gentle morning breeze. I touched the sheets; they were cool. He’d been up for a while.

My heart squeezed a little. Poor kid. He probably missed those normal morning routines–a mother waking him up, helping him dress, starting the day with small rituals that made him feel secure. I certainly would have at his age.

I found Oliver downstairs in the dining room, kneeling on a chair and helping the housekeepers clean the table and set up for breakfast. His small hands moved with surprising efficiency as he arranged silverware and napkins.

“Oliver,” I called softly.

He looked up, his eyes slightly puffy but his smile radiant. “Anna!” He immediately set down the cloth he was using and wiped his little hands on the apron someone had tied around his waist.

I walked over and gently took the cloth from his hands, ruffling his hair. “Dear, you don’t need to do these things.”

Martha, who was arranging flowers for the table centerpiece, smiled warmly. “Mr. Wright just left. He

attend to. Also, some people will be coming to the

asked me to tell you he had urgent business to

house today, and he insists you stay home.”

She turned her attention to Oliver, her expression softening. “Oliver has been such a good helper this morning, getting up so early to assist us.”

Oliver looked down at the silverware he’d been arranging, his voice growing quieter. “I used to help my dad prepare breakfast every day. He was always very busy, and I wanted to help him…” His smile faded, and his eyes began to glisten with unshed tears.

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I crouched down to his level, gently cupping lils face. If you miss your dad, you can call Blake p instead, and call me ‘Mom.‘ We’ll love you just like your birth parents would,

Oliver’s small body trembled at my words. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he suddenly threw his arms around my neck, burying his face against my shoulder and crying softly.

Oliver’s POV:

Anna smelled like flowers and something clean. Her arms were warm around me, and I tried not to cry too loud. Dad always said big boys shouldn’t cry.

But when Anna said I could call her Mom, something broke inside me. I hadn’t called anyone Mom since… since before. I missed having a mom so much it hurt in my chest sometimes.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and quickly tried to stop crying. Martha was coming down with Nora in her arms.

Anna’s POV:

Martha appeared with Nora, who was dressed in a pale blue outfit that made her eyes look even more striking. Oliver immediately pulled away from me, hastily wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“Nora doesn’t like it when I cry,” he said, straightening his small shoulders and lifting his chin. “I won’t cry in front of her anymore.” His nose was still red, but his expression had become determined, protective.

I watched in amazement as Nora’s presence accomplished what no words of comfort could. The transformation in Oliver was immediate–from vulnerable child to protective big brother in seconds.

After breakfast, I heard the doorbell ring. Blake’s medical team had arrived, though they were dressed in casual clothes rather than their usual clinical attire.

“You two keep eating,” I said softly to the children. “I need to speak with our visitors.”

The lead doctor handed me a thick folder as soon as I greeted them. “These are Nora’s diagnostic reports and treatment protocol manuals. You might want to review them.”

I flipped through the pages, my brow furrowing as I read through the detailed assessments and recommendations. “What are the side effects of this treatment plan?” The doctor patiently answered each of my questions, explaining the therapy options and potential outcomes.

Suddenly, Oliver burst out of the dining room, his voice unusually loud. “Nora isn’t sick at all!” His small face was flushed with anger.

Before I could react, he grabbed Nora’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs. “Come on, Nora!” She

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stumbled along behind him, looking startled by his outburst.

I excused myself from the medical team and followed them upstairs, I could hear Oliver’s voice through Nora’s bedroom door.

“Nora, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll protect you!” His voice was breathless but fierce.

I heard him continue in a hushed, excited tone. “Maybe we could escape through the window! I can tie the sheets together like a rope, and we can climb down–just like they do in movies!”

When I knocked gently and entered the room, I found a strange tableau. Oliver was standing with his arms crossed, his face red.

Nora was sitting on the carpet, rubbing her reddened wrist and regarding Oliver with a cool, assessing gaze that seemed far too mature for her age.

“Oliver? Nora? What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

Nora allowed me to pick her up without her usual resistance, which surprised me. I looked

questioningly at Oliver. “What happened?”

He just bit his lower lip stubbornly, refusing to speak. As I carried Nora back downstairs, Oliver followed close behind like a little shadow, his eyes never leaving his sister.

The strange tension between the children persisted throughout the day.