The air hostess didn’t know how to react. However, since Conan was a platinum member, she could do nothing to protest.
The other passengers on the plane wouldn’t have it, though. Someone threw a bottle at Conan and yelled, “Is this your own plane, you idiot? How could you be so ridiculous? People like you don’t deserve to be a father!”
Conan dared not argue this time. He simply nodded toward the air hostess while stubbornly gripping the door handle.
I said calmly, “I won’t need it anymore.”
Fiona, a nice lady whose seat was next to mine, suddenly spoke up. “Come back here. I’ll shield you while you feed your baby. Then I’ll formally complain about that air hostess for discrimination!”
I smiled appreciatively and nodded at Fiona as I returned to my seat. She then shielded me with her coat while I fed Finley.
A while later, Finley finally stopped crying after he was done feeding. He then slept like a log until it was time to land.
I exited the departure hall. When Conan saw that I wasn’t getting into his car, his face darkened, and he flew into another rage, thinking I was still playing mind games with him.
“Sabrina Lockhart, you can take the cab if you want to, but I refuse to let my son take it. Are you trying to use my son to garner my sympathy?”
I stared at Conan. He was simply being ridiculous.
“Finley is not your son.”
Conan reacted as though he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. He threw his head back and laughed loud and hard.
“Wow, I never thought that you’d stoop so low to talk such nonsense with me. Do you even hear yourself? You’re talking rubbish!”
Conan wanted to continue his tirade, but Queenie suddenly shivered hard and sniffed loudly next to him.
He immediately approached her and asked concernedly, “Are you cold?”
