Pregnant Cultivator, Doted by Big Boss

As his voice faded, Aaron Sinclair’s gaze swept over everyone present before finally settling on Caleb Jacobs. He spoke coolly, "Your whole family... you disgust me."

The moment he spoke, Caleb Jacobs, who was kneeling on the ground, went stiff. In that instant, his composure completely shattered.

"This is rebellion! Utter rebellion!"

"Is this how you speak to me? Even if you’re not my biological son, I still raised you! You little bastard, where do you get off being so arrogant?"

Until now, Nate Alden had stood by without moving. But hearing this, how could he possibly stand it? To openly insult the Prince’s son was a death wish. This was the Princely Heir! A mere prisoner had no right to curse someone of his station. No, more than that—no one could. Insulting the Royal Family was a crime punishable by death.

And so, upon hearing those words, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, Nate Alden, shot him a cold look and swung a hard slap across his face.

"Show some respect in the Princely Heir’s presence!"

It was a heavy blow.

Feeling that wasn’t enough, he followed up with a backhand slap.

"Insulting the Prince of the Royal Mansion is an even greater crime!"

The slap echoed loudly.

This Caleb Jacobs was no battle-hardened general; his skills were all for show. So, when faced with the powerful martial arts of Nate Alden, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, a single slap sent him stumbling and rolling across the ground.

It all happened so fast that his ear scraped against the sword held to his neck, and half of it was sliced clean off.

"AHHHH..."

Pain washed over him.

Caleb Jacobs clutched his ear, writhing on the ground. "It hurts, it hurts so much... My ear." Blood streamed down through his fingers as he continued to roll in agony.

Even Nate Alden was taken aback by the sight and couldn’t help but curse, "Useless trash. A fake is a fake."

He remembered the real General of Cavalry, Cole Jacobs. It was said he wouldn’t even cry out if a blade cut him to the bone. He could keep fighting his enemies, a feat this piece of trash could never hope to match.

And yet, a man like that, precisely because he was too forthright, was poisoned while grievously wounded and had his identity stolen.

When he first heard from the Emperor that this General of Cavalry was an imposter, he found it hard to believe. But now, with the truth right in front of him, he had no choice but to accept it. After all, how could a real general be knocked down by a single slap? And to scream and shout over losing a piece of his ear...

"My ear... blood... It hurts so much..."

Caleb Jacobs clutched his ear, still writhing on the ground in pain.

"AHH..."

Witnessing this, the people kneeling in the courtyard turned pale, their bodies shrinking back in fear. Some of the more timid ones shrieked in terror. Whether they were his concubines or the servants of the General’s Mansion, every one of them kept their heads down, not daring to step forward and help.

Mrs. Dawson, however, was genuinely worried. He was her husband, after all. If something happened to him, she would lose her provider.

"Master, Master, are you all right?"

She tried to get up to check on her husband, but an Imperial Guard standing nearby blocked her. "All of you, stay on your knees! Make another sound, and you’ll be the next to die."

The Imperial Guard’s blade gleamed brightly, and no one dared to move. Now, with the sword right in front of her face, Mrs. Dawson was frozen in place.

’Wait, did I miss something?’ She had been so terrified when she saw half of Caleb Jacobs’s ear get sliced off that she had completely overlooked the word "Princely Heir."

Now that she had a moment to recover, Mrs. Dawson stared intently at the boy standing there. ’What did the Commander of the Imperial Guard call him? Princely Heir... the Prince of the Royal Mansion?’

’In all of Kelldorn, there is only one Prince—the Emperor’s own brother, the Warden of the North. He has only one son, the one who was just found a short while ago. In fact, in this generation of the Royal Clan, he is the only child. A Princely Heir who could one day inherit the title of Crown Prince.’

’Could it be? Is he the long-lost Princely Heir of The Warden’s Northern Manor?’ The more she thought about it, the more horrified Mrs. Dawson became, her eyes filled with utter disbelief.

"You... You’re the Princely Heir of The Warden’s Northern Manor?"

"No... impossible... You can’t be the Princely Heir."

’This boy was just a little bastard my husband and I picked up off the street. A worthless life like his—making him die in place of our own son was doing him a favor. How could he be the Prince of the Royal Mansion? How could this child have such good fortune?’

Mrs. Dawson’s eyes were glued to Aaron Sinclair. She watched the boy stand there, exuding an air of nobility. His red and white robes were embroidered with golden patterns. Attire of this quality was something not even the sons of noble houses were qualified to wear.

"The Kirin Pattern... No... this is impossible."

’Is that a kirin embroidered on his clothes? Only The Crown is permitted to wear garments of that caliber.’

She shook her head again and again.

"How could you be the Princely Heir?"

"I don’t believe it."

"I don’t believe it."

’If this child is the Princely Heir, then he is the Prince’s son. I could have had a son with the status of a Princely Heir, someone who might even become the Crown Prince in the future. But I threw him away, abandoned him, and even sent people to kill him.’

Caleb Jacobs, who was still rolling on the ground clutching his ear, snapped his head up at the sound. His face now mirrored Mrs. Dawson’s, his eyes filled with shock.

"You... a Princely Heir? How could you possibly be the Princely Heir from The Prince’s Manor?"

Aaron Sinclair glanced at them and sneered, "Your son was lost for many years, and when he was found, he was given the status of the Young Master of the General’s Mansion. Why is it so impossible for me to be found by my birth parents and given the title of Prince of the Royal Mansion?"

He wasn’t the type to throw his status around. But when dealing with people like the Jacobs family, having this title was quite satisfying. At least seeing this trash, who always thought so highly of themselves and looked down on others, now looking like they’d seen a ghost was rather enjoyable. It certainly felt good to him.

Caleb Jacobs reached out a hand, forcing an ugly smile.

"My... my dear boy. I’m your father."

"I didn’t mean to drive you away back then. Can you forgive me?"

He was still clinging to a sliver of hope.

’What if he doesn’t know I sent people to kill him? If I can just coax him a little, I might end up with an incredibly powerful son.’

Aaron Sinclair looked utterly disgusted. "Do you even believe the words coming out of your own mouth? Don’t think I don’t know that after you sent me away, you secretly sent people to intercept and kill me. You wanted to silence me for good, afraid I’d come back and fight your good-for-nothing son for the family fortune. How filthy. Everything you think is just as foul."

"Back off... Don’t touch me, you filth. My father is the Warden of the North, Javier Sinclair. Who the hell do you think you are, trying to be my father?"

Caleb Jacobs’s face froze.

"This is all a misunderstanding."

Kneeling nearby, Mrs. Dawson also chimed in hastily. "Arthur! Arthur, I’m your mother! It was my fault for wronging you before, for listening to your little brother’s lies. But really, in my heart, I’ve always thought of you as my own flesh and blood."

Aaron Sinclair sneered at them. "Is that so? The waves of assassins you sent after me hunted me for days. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Heh... Spare me the fake sentiment. It’s nauseating to watch. My mother is The Lady Warden. She is gentle, beautiful, and she adores me. You can’t compare to her. You’re not fit to touch a single strand of my mother’s hair."