Chapter 85: Oliver’s Cute Little Boy’s Logic
Meanwhile, Liam, who never really bought Evelyn’s excuse, reluctantly left her alone.
He had a gut feeling she was up to something behind his back, but once he got Oliver buckled into the car seat and slid behind the wheel, his regret began to fade.
It was impossible to think about his worry when there was a cute and chubby three-year-old chatterbox in the back seat.
Oliver had a talent for asking the kind of questions that could make a grown man laugh out loud until his ribs hurt.
"Hey Uncle Liam, are you full?"
Liam shot him a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised.
"Of course I am. I eat more than you, young master. Why do you ask?"
Oliver nodded thoughtfully, eyes shining. "Because if you’re full, you should take a nap now... I always feel sleepy after eating."
Liam chuckled, warmth flooding his chest at the boy’s sincerity.
"Thank you for your concern, young master, but I’m perfectly fine and fresh. I’m not sleepy even a bit." He leaned back against the seat with a grin. "If you’re tired, you can nap. No need to worry about the lady boss...Ehm, I mean your mother. She’ll be back before you know it."
Oliver’s little head shook stubbornly. "Nope. I’m not sleepy either."
"Then you must still be hungry?"
"Nope. I’m full," Oliver replied firmly, his gaze fixed on the restaurant’s front door. "I just want to wait for mom."
Silence settled over the car.
Liam followed the boy’s gaze, his own eyes lingering on the restaurant entrance. Despite his calm exterior, he was as anxious as Oliver for Evelyn to return.
Then Oliver’s small voice shattered the silence, charming yet surprisingly earnest.
"Uncle Liam... can you stop calling me Young Master?"
Liam blinked, caught off guard.
"Oh? Why can I call you young master?"
He checked the rear view mirror and saw Oliver sigh with a gravity far too old for his little body. His pouty face nearly made Liam choke back a laugh.
"Don’t be sad about the name, young master," Liam teased lightly, unable to resist. "That is what you are now. If you’re moving to the capital, you’ll likely hear it often. All your father’s men will call you that."
"But I don’t like it. Just call me Oliver." He let out another dramatic sigh, as if the weight of the entire world rested on his small shoulders.
Liam’s lips curved into a smile.
"Alright. I’ll call you Oliver, but only when your parents aren’t around. Deal?"
Oliver’s eyes lit up again, his cheer returning like sunshine after rain.
Liam felt relieved until Oliver added something that nearly made him choke on his own spit.
"Uncle Liam, can you also stop calling my mom Lady Boss? Just call her Mommy. Or Mom. I already agreed to share my mommy with you."
The words were delivered with such calm authority that Liam felt a shiver crawl down his spine.
For a split second, it didn’t sound like little Oliver at all. It sounded like a miniature Axel Knight giving an order that could not be disobeyed.
Liam’s blood ran cold.
His hands shot up as if to defend himself from some invisible executioner.
"No. Absolutely not. Oliver, your daddy will kill me! How could I call your mother ’Mommy’? That’s like asking myself a death wish!"
Oliver tilted his head, blinking at him with innocent confusion.
"Why? You’re always protecting her. You even argue with her sometimes, like me and Daddy do. And you care for me, too. So, you’re like... second Daddy. Just call her Mommy."
Liam’s soul almost fled as he digested Oliver’s words.
Second Daddy? He could already picture Axel’s face if those words ever reached him. His ghost would be found floating somewhere over the city.
"Young Master... Oliver... please," Liam begged, pressing a hand to his chest. His pleading eyes fix on him, "Do not say that again. Ever. If your dad hears it, I won’t live to see tomorrow."
But Oliver wasn’t letting go that easily. He crossed his tiny arms, adopting a regal air that was all too familiar. Axel Knight.
Liam silently swallowed. ’Heaven, please tell me... that Axel’s soul really resides in this three-year-old boy?’
"Uncle... You don’t have to be scared. Daddy won’t kill you. I’ll tell him... I said it first. And if I say it first, Daddy will listen."
Liam’s jaw went slack.
This kid was negotiating like a mafia prince, and the scary part was that he might actually be right. Axel Knight, the cold and ruthless boss, might actually soften for his son’s whim.
Still, Liam shook his head so hard.
"No. No, Oliver. Not happening. I value my life. I will call her Lady Boss until the day I die."
Oliver narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his seat like a tiny godfather making an offer.
"You already call me Oliver. You promised. If you break your promise, I won’t forgive you."
Liam gripped the steering wheel tighter, sweat dotting his forehead. "Kid, you are way scarier than your father."
Oliver smirked, a frighteningly familiar expression on his chubby face.
"Well done, Uncle Liam. That means you’ll listen."
’Well done? Why well done? Did I agree to call his mommy, Mom? No! I never said that.’ Liam wonders, trying to remember what he said earlier.
Hurriedly, Liam turned back to Oliver, panic flickering across his face.
"Oliver, let me make this crystal clear. I only agreed to call you Oliver. But I will never, ever call your mom ’Mom,’ ’Mommy,’ or Anything Else. Never. Please, don’t force me into this..."
Silence.
Liam exhaled, shoulders relaxing.
’Thank God, the little fella finally dropped it. He understands. He’s not saying anything. Maybe I survived this round.’
But before his prayer reached the heavens, Oliver’s face clouded over. His lips trembled, his big eyes growing shinier by the second.
’Oh no. He’s sad? Wait, is he about to cry? Dear Lord, why me?’
"Oliver," Liam asked carefully, his voice rising with nervous energy. "Why are you sad? Do you miss your mommy or daddy?"
Oliver shook his head, fixing him with a wounded stare. "No. I feel sad because you scolded me, Uncle Liam..."
Liam froze.
’Scold? Who scolded him? I was smiling the whole time!’
Instantly, he felt defeated.
His shoulders slumped, and the thought crossed his mind:
’I need to call Boss Axel right now... I need to ask him to reassign me to another location. I won’t mind Siberia. Or the desert. Even the bottom of the ocean. Anywhere but here.’
If this continued, he was sure he would end up in the emergency room—not from bullets or blades, but from Oliver’s cute little boy’s logic.