Yes, I Have a Child with the Villain

Adrian Grant: "...Thank you."

So it wasn’t his imagination; Caroline Whitman’s grip really had been that strong that night.

’Thank you?’

Caroline Whitman froze. She’d thought he would say something more.

"You’re, you’re not surprised?"

"I suspected as much. That night at the manor, you were incredibly strong. You kept grabbing my hand, and I couldn’t shake you off no matter what."

As he spoke, Caroline Whitman found herself distracted. Her gaze drifted to his lips as they moved. By the time he finished, she realized his breath, tinged with a smile, was enveloping her, making her cheeks burn.

Only then did she realize just how close they were. If she tilted her head down just a little, their lips would touch.

Their position at that moment wasn’t exactly graceful either.

She was still pinning him beneath her.

Pressed tightly together.

Her hands were still cupping the back of his head. His soft, short hair tickled her palms, an odd sensation, like a feather lightly brushing against her heart.

Caroline Whitman snapped back to her senses and quickly pulled her hands away from his head.

But the moment she moved, Adrian Grant took the opportunity to lift a hand, wrap it around her waist, and, with a gentle turn, roll her onto her side.

They lay facing each other, their noses just touching, their breaths mingling.

He slid one leg between hers and rested his other leg lightly on top of hers.

The crisp fabric of his dress pants pressed against her skin, the sensation transmitting itself with stark clarity.

Caroline Whitman froze instantly, not daring to breathe any deeper.

In the faint light from the projector screen, his features were magnified before her eyes, exceptionally clear.

In that moment, her heartbeat seemed to amplify infinitely, THUMPING against her chest.

Neither of them moved.

Until she felt a very slight tension press against her front.

It was pressing against her.

The feeling lasted only a split second, so fast she couldn’t quite grasp it.

So fast that she wondered if it was just her imagination.

Adrian Grant suddenly released the hand on her waist, rolled onto his back, and sat up, pulling the blanket with him.

Facing the suddenly empty space beside her, Caroline Whitman paused, blinked, and quickly scrambled up from the sofa as well.

Silence still hung between them.

"I’m going to go check on what Ryan is doing," she said, being the first to break the silence.

"Mm," Adrian Grant acknowledged softly.

The moment the word was out, Caroline Whitman strode quickly from the home theater, fleeing the charged atmosphere.

Leaving Adrian Grant alone, lounging lazily on the enormous sofa.

After a long while, he slowly lifted the blanket, got up, and walked out of the theater.

Caroline Whitman really did go to see what Ryan Grant was doing.

The little guy was, as expected, obediently playing with his toys in the playroom.

Just then, she suddenly received an email from Ethan Xavier.

Surprised, Caroline Whitman had no choice but to get up and leave the playroom. As she came out, she ran right into Adrian Grant, who had just emerged from the home theater.

Caroline Whitman stopped in her tracks. She looked at him and said with a natural expression:

"I need to borrow your study for a moment."

"Mm, feel free."

With his permission, Caroline Whitman entered the study, opened her laptop, and began to look over the company profile Ethan Xavier had sent.

It was an overseas company.

It was founded by Ethan Xavier. The email briefly mentioned that he had returned to the country to expand into the domestic market.

After a moment’s thought, she sent the company’s name to her assistant, asking her to investigate its background and true standing.

Ever since the Whitman Group had become famous, there had been far too many "collaborations" disguised as old classmates wanting to catch up.

Caroline Whitman certainly didn’t believe these people were contacting her out of the blue just to get close and reminisce about old times.

She handled some more work online. By the time she was finished, it was already four-thirty in the afternoon.

She stood up, stretched, and walked to the window. Looking out, she saw two figures, one large and one small, by the swimming pool.

Caroline Whitman just stared at them for over half an hour, resting her eyes, until they went back into the villa. Only then did she silently withdraw her gaze.

When she came downstairs, Adrian Grant and the little one had already changed their clothes.

And Adrian Grant was now busy in the kitchen.

She hesitated before entering the kitchen. Looking at his tall figure from behind, she asked politely, "Do you need any help?"

Hearing her voice, Adrian Grant turned his head while rolling up his sleeves. "Just rest."

"Oh."

Caroline Whitman took the hint and backed out.

An hour later, Adrian Grant had finished cooking.

There were four dishes and a soup, as well as two specially prepared meals for their child.

The soup was a pork rib soup.

There was a plate of steamed fish, a plate of spicy diced chicken, a plate of honey-glazed char siu, and a plate of green vegetables.

Adrian Grant had done the cooking for the past two days, and he had managed to balance both spicy and non-spicy dishes.

In truth, Caroline Whitman wasn’t a picky eater at all; she liked anything as long as it was delicious.

And Adrian Grant’s cooking was exceptionally good.

The key was that his menu was never the same. It was hard to imagine that this man possessed such superb culinary skills.

After eating and drinking her fill, she slowly praised Adrian Grant’s cooking:

"Did you take special courses to learn how to cook so well?"

"I practiced and got good at it when I was living alone in a foreign country."

Adrian Grant finished cleaning the kitchen, pulled out a paper towel to wipe his hands, and spoke unhurriedly.

After dinner, it was already eight o’clock.

Ryan Grant had had a lot of fun these past few days.

No homework and no classes.

And he got to play with his mom and dad every day.

Just as he finished his bath and was excitedly toddling off to find his mom to play, Adrian Grant emerged from the bathroom in a robe, lifted him up, and said:

"You’ve had your fun for the past few days. Starting tonight, it’s time to review your lessons."

Ryan Grant looked at Adrian Grant with shock and disbelief. "But the teacher didn’t assign any homework."

He turned his head to look at Caroline Whitman, begging his mom to speak up and save him from the torment of studying.

Caroline Whitman just smiled, offering no objection. "It’s about time you did some studying. Tonight, let your dad help you review for a while, and then you can go to sleep."

’Besides, she didn’t know what else they would do for the rest of the evening.’

’Going to bed at eight was too early for adults like them.’

’And the little guy probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep right away either. It was better to have him review his lessons for a bit; it would help him sleep better.’

Ryan Grant let out a couple of wails as his feet left the floor, carried off to the study by Adrian Grant.

Once in the study, Ryan Grant asked plaintively in his childish voice:

"Daddy, aren’t you going to have some private time with Mommy?"

Adrian Grant: "..."

’The little guy’s ulterior motive was obvious: he wanted him to go be with Caroline Whitman so he could play by himself.’

Ryan Grant was actually a little puzzled himself.

When he wanted to play by himself, his dad would come supervise his studies.

When he wanted to be with his mom and dad, they would send him to either his maternal or paternal grandmother’s house.

Adrian Grant handed him a calligraphy practice book and said flatly, "Helping you study doesn’t conflict with spending private time with your mother."

Ryan Grant looked at the calligraphy exercises, muttered a reluctant "oh," and then made a disgruntled comparison:

"Mommy wouldn’t do this."

"Do what?"

"When Mommy wanted to have private time with you this afternoon, she told me to go play, not to go study."

Adrian Grant fell silent. The air was quiet for a long moment. As the little guy picked up his pen, he turned to see his dad seemingly lost in thought and asked, "Daddy, why aren’t you talking anymore?"

"Is it because you think Mommy is nicer?" the little boy asked innocently, blinking his bright eyes.

Adrian Grant: "I was just thinking that perhaps if I sent you to your grandparents’ place, it would be more convenient for me to have some private time with your mother.

That way, you could play whenever you want, and you wouldn’t have to study either."

"..."

Ryan Grant silently lowered his head and started writing.