Chapter 518. Why Does Pappa Hate Me? I Am His Son

Proserpina

Paddy was able to walk with some support now. And I knew that I had my big, beefy Claude to thank for that. He had unhesitatingly hefted the slighter man up in his arms, striding onto our lush green lawns. There he proceeded to work with the physiotherapist, a bemused-looking young girl whom I suspected had been in Claude’s bed already.

They made progress, at any rate, and soon, Paddy was walking, leaning heavily on his brother, but with a look of joy on his face as he finally managed to get his limbs moving. Claude, as always, was over the moon. He threw his arms around the young physiotherapist and kissed her soundly.

The girl, her spectacles askew, blushed beet red, her dark skin and neatly braided cornrows looked askance. Nahla Kennedy was shy and could barely look into my son’s eyes when he was around, but I had seen on more than one occasion, how her lovely doe eyes trailed him when he walked into a room.

I sighed. Claude ha