"Fool, all you think about is eating; now is the time to call someone." Harry pouted his little lips, voicing his disdain for his sister, and then looked up at Sheldon, having not called him grandfather either.
As soon as his tender voice began, Sheldon's gaze was drawn to him.
Harry wore a little white shirt paired with black suspenders and casual children's canvas shoes, his delicate face bearing an arrogant expression, as noble and handsome as a little prince.
His face was the spitting image of Chester Yale's; no one who saw the two of them standing together would doubt their blood relation.
Sheldon's body jolted suddenly, as if he couldn't sit still and was about to pounce towards the two children, his hands grasping the bed's guardrail firmly.
His eyes widened.
"These two children, are they really yours?" Sheldon's voice trembled, his gaze falteringly turned towards Chester Yale.
As if he couldn't believe that he had suddenly gained two more descendants.
