If Lucas weren't afraid of the beating his mother might give him later, he'd have already run off to play with Sonny.

Chelsea, meanwhile, couldn't resist snooping. She opened Sonny's small suitcase, rifling through it with a critical eye.

Other than Sonny's clothes and a few toys, there wasn't much inside.

"Where's the seafood? Auntie loves seafood! Didn't your mom pack a big bag for me to take home?" she asked, her voice laced with annoyance. She then turned her attention to three gift boxes stacked neatly nearby, reaching for them.

Hank stepped in immediately, his tone sharp. “Don't touch those. They're Sonny's. They're for his health.”

Chelsea froze, momentarily stunned by her brother's tone. Hank's patience for her antics had run dry long ago. He no longer indulged her behavior, and she knew better than to push him too far-especially since she still relied on the occasional favor from her family.

Reluctantly, she backed off, sulking as Hank carried the gift boxes into the room and slammed the door behind him.

Brown said a word, their silence heavy

herself, Chelsea returned to Sonny, trying again to cozy up to him. She reached out,

"I don't want

shot a warning glare at

like this? What did I do wrong? I used to hold you all the time when you were

"Auntie, I'm not three anymore. You can't fool

her mouth but couldn't find the words to

"Sonny, why didn't you bring

bought gifts for Grandpa and Grandma, but not for me. It's almost the New Year, you know. You could've gotten me something nice, like a big seafood package. Why don't you call your

could answer, Mr. Brown's face darkened, and

at all? Why on earth did I raise someone so

but

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