"Dad."
"Uncle."
The two young people greeted him. Algerone gently put Belinda's hand down. He stood up, "Have you had breakfast?"
"Yes, we have." Monica put the bag on the bedside table. "This is rice noodles for you, eat them while they're hot."
"Monica, go downstairs and buy me a bottle of chili sauce," Algerone said to his daughter. "Rice noodles taste better with chili sauce."
"Okay." Monica answered without thinking.
"I'll go," Tristan held Monica by the shoulder, stopping her footsteps, and looked at Algerone with a smile.
At this moment, Algerone quickly said, "Tristan!" stopping his footsteps too.
"Let Monica go after all. She knows what kind I like to eat," the middle-aged man said with a smile.
With his gaze meeting Tristan's, Tristan suddenly understood something. Uncle deliberately wanted to send Monica away.
He must have something to say to him. Tristan's heart sank. Had Aunt's condition worsened?
"Monica, you go after all," Tristan said gently, looking at the girl. "Be careful on the way."
Monica smiled and nodded. "Okay." Then she turned and left.
After his daughter left, Algerone's gaze fell again on Tristan's chiseled handsome face.
Tristan said gently, "Uncle, just go ahead and say it."
"Can you not tell Monica about her birth parents for now?" There was a hint of sigh in the middle-aged man's tone, and also a hint of request.
Algerone felt that Tristan knew about her birth parents from the blood type, while Monica didn't know. Girls tend to be insensitive about such things.
Tristan was silent for a moment and said regretfully, "She already knows."
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