It stung, realizing that others had labeled his own son a bastard while he stood on the sidelines, completely unaware.

He started to wonder if Tilda had kept it from him out of selfishness.

With Sheldon's true father standing just a few steps away, how could she possibly stay silent while others branded her son a bastard?

How deep must her hatred run to deny them the chance to meet as father and son?

Just then, the door creaked open and in came Tilda. "Lyndon, I heard from Alvin that you're awake. Feeling hungry?"

Lyndon's attention snapped to her voice, his stare landing squarely on her face, dark eyes sharp and searching.

He had questions, too many to count, but the moment he tried to gather his thoughts, a wave of dizziness hit him hard.

Pushing the urge to interrogate her aside, he held back and focused on staying conscious.

"You've got to eat something first. Let me help you sit up," said Tilda, her voice low and careful.

Without responding, Lyndon used what little strength he had to shift into a sitting position.

Tilda tucked a pillow behind his back before quietly heading to the thermos nearby.

The aroma of the soup drifted through the room as she poured it into a bowl and brought it to his lips. He sipped slowly, the warmth doing Little to ease his unease.

Then he quickly turned away.

"You should try to have more," Tilda said, lifting the bowl again.

"I really can't," Lyndon whispered, his voice faint.

His whole body throbbed. His thoughts spiraled. Hunger was the last thing on his mind.

Watching her move so gently, he wanted to confront her— wanted to know everything.

But the words stuck, heavy and immovable. It baffled him. Why hadn't she told him?

Now that she had chosen silence, he would wait. He wondered how long she could keep it going.

Would she keep clinging to her secrets, pretending there was nothing to explain?

With a soft touch, Tilda brushed her fingers across his forehead. "You're still a little feverish," she said, checking his temperature.

When Lyndon caught the worry in Tilda's eyes, he quickly looked away.

He inquired, "You went to the film set this afternoon?"

"Yeah," Tilda said, nodding. "I've been off for a few days. The director was starting to stress, so I had to show up."