Pregnant Cultivator, Doted by Big Boss

Aaron Sinclair’s words struck Mrs. Dawson like a sledgehammer, shattering her hypocritical facade. Her expression froze.

Even now, she truly didn’t believe she was in the wrong.

’He was never my child to begin with. I lost my own son because of him. So, from my point of view, wasn’t it perfectly reasonable to despise him and treat him poorly?’

’If my biological son had never been found, he could have gone on being my son, the young master of the General’s Mansion. But one day, my real son returned.’

’For the sake of my own child, this bastard who had stolen my son’s identity simply had to go. As a mother, I was forced to consider my son’s future. He couldn’t blame me for that. It wasn’t my fault.’

’Besides, hadn’t he returned perfectly safe? I was his adoptive mother, after all. They say the bond of nurture is stronger than the bond of birth.’

’He wasn’t dead, so wasn’t there still room to fix things? It wasn’t too late. If only this boy could let go of his resentment and forgive me, I could treat him as my own son from now on.’

’Why couldn’t the boy see things from my perspective? My life had been hard all these years, too. But the things he was saying... How could he be so cold and cruel?’

Her gaze fell upon Aaron Sinclair’s face, and she couldn’t stop herself from speaking. "You... How can you say such things to me? The General’s Mansion raised you for so many years! I was your mother for all that time. If you won’t credit me for my contributions, at least acknowledge my hard work. If the General and I hadn’t taken you in from the side of the road, you wouldn’t even be alive today."

Her words made Aaron Sinclair laugh, but it was a laugh born of pure anger.

His cold gaze swept over Caleb Jacobs before finally settling on Mrs. Dawson.

"That’s so ridiculous it’s actually funny."

"Do you even hear yourselves? At this point, you still have the nerve to call yourselves my parents? The sheer audacity. Or maybe I’ve just been too lenient with you?"

As he spoke, his tone iced over. "Yes, the General’s Mansion raised me for many years. It gave me a roof over my head. And frankly, when I found out I wasn’t your biological son, I was rather grateful. But what does any of that matter now? The moment you sent assassins to kill me, any debt I owed you was settled. That kindness is gone. You tried to have me killed again and again, and I barely escaped with my life each time. I’m standing here today not because you showed me any mercy, but because I’m just that hard to kill."

"And another thing... Since we’re on the subject of this ’kindness,’ let’s get a few things straight. Did you *really* just find me by the road? You didn’t have me stolen? I know exactly why you took me. You were being hunted by enemies and needed a substitute for your precious son—a child to die in his place. And what do you know, I was that child. The only thing you didn’t count on was that I would survive. Instead, it was your own son you ended up losing."

When he finished, he even gave a small, sarcastic clap.

"What do you call that? It’s called karma. If you hadn’t been so malicious from the start, you never would have lost your own son. You treat your child’s life as a treasure, but did it ever occur to you that other children are treasures to their parents, too? What right did you have to decide my fate? To force an innocent child to die in your son’s place? Is your son’s life inherently more valuable? Are other children’s lives as worthless as grass? You have no regard for human life. You deserve death."

He said it all in a single, furious rush.

Before Mrs. Dawson could respond, he went on.

"Hmph. I truly don’t get it. Where do you find the audacity to blame me for everything? You act as if my very existence caused you to lose your son. All these years, you treated me with nothing but coldness, letting the servants of the General’s Mansion walk all over me. And all the while, I was the one meant to die in your son’s place!"

Hearing this, Mrs. Dawson’s eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t believe he knew so much. ’No, wait,’ she thought. ’What’s this about us *stealing* him? That part isn’t true.’

At this thought, Mrs. Dawson frantically shook her head and started to explain.

"No... that’s not what happened..."

"You’re wrong, all wrong."

Mrs. Dawson was flustered and at a loss for words, so her voice trembled as she spoke. If not for the gleaming blade held to her, she surely would have crawled over to him.

"Aaron... please, listen to me. Someone must be trying to drive a wedge between us! It’s true that the General and I were looking for a child to take our son’s place, but we honestly didn’t steal you."

Aaron Sinclair scoffed. "Don’t tell me you’re about to say you found me by the side of the road?" ’How many times have they told that story? Do they ever get sick of it? Can’t they think of a different lie?’

Mrs. Dawson nodded vigorously. "Yes, that’s right! The General and I really did find you by the road! Ask the General if you don’t believe me. We absolutely did not steal you."

They had, at first, entertained the idea of finding a child to act as a substitute. But before they could put that plan into motion, they happened upon a baby by the roadside. With a convenient solution right in front of them, they had abandoned their previous scheme. Thus, in their minds, they were certain: the child was found, not stolen.

Caleb Jacobs, clutching his wounded ear, nodded in agreement. "She’s right. Aaron, you’ve misunderstood. We didn’t steal you. We genuinely found you by the roadside. One of our old servants heard a baby crying, so we stopped the carriage. When I got out to check, I found a child in the bushes. That child was you."

He spoke with conviction, because that truly was what had happened. To an outsider, however, their words sounded like a pathetic and transparent attempt to deny their crimes. It was too convenient to be believed.

And Aaron Sinclair didn’t believe them.

Mrs. Dawson looked at him desperately. "Aaron, you have to believe me! We’re not lying!"

A look of pure disdain crossed Aaron Sinclair’s face. He spoke in an icy tone, "Still not a single honest word out of you, even now. You ’found’ me? Do you really expect me to believe that? Stop your pathetic excuses. Do you take me for a complete idiot? Your entire family is rotten to the core. It just proves the saying: birds of a feather flock together."

’My mother told me they stole me, so that’s what happened. And still, they try to argue.’

"No, we didn’t steal you!" Mrs. Dawson insisted.

It wasn’t just her. Caleb Jacobs, blood dripping from what was left of his ear, stared with wide, furious eyes. The feeling of being wrongly accused was agonizing. He truly had not stolen the boy.

"We really did find you in the bushes by the road!"

Aaron Sinclair shot them a dismissive glare. "Found in the bushes, you say? What parents would abandon a perfectly healthy child in a place like that? If you’re going to lie, at least make it plausible. Go on, try and find another one right now. Let’s see you do it. Babies don’t just fall out of the sky in the middle of the wilderness."