Seeing his stepmother's expression, Dad Caldwell's cheeks trembled even more, and though he already knew the answer, he still asked in a quivering voice, "Is Silas really my son?"
The stepmother became completely flustered and, without thinking, quickly said, "Of course, Silas is naturally your son..."
Dad Caldwell shouted loudly, "If he's really my son, then what do your guilty and fearful expressions mean?"
Having been married to her for so many years, how could he not understand the changes in her expressions?
The stepmother tried hard to explain, to cover up, "No, it's not that way. Silas is your son, he truly is your son."
Dad Caldwell, panting, said, "Then how do you explain that we are both Type O blood, so how can Silas be Type B? You must know that two Type O parents cannot have a Type B child."
The stepmother was so anxious that tears were about to fall, "How could I know? You have to believe me, this is all a misunderstanding."
