Yes, I Have a Child with the Villain

The partition inside the car was lowered.

His large, warm hand kneaded her arm, the pressure just right, alternating between heavy and light.

"Hm? What did you say?"

Adrian Grant leaned toward her, head slightly bowed, and asked again.

Caroline Whitman’s face flushed slightly. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if he was pretending not to hear or if he genuinely hadn’t heard.

"Nothing."

She decided to take the out he was giving her.

Adrian Grant didn’t press the matter. For the rest of the ride, he gave Caroline Whitman a proper massage.

After finishing with one arm, he pulled her onto his lap, holding her in his embrace.

Caroline Whitman remained perfectly still.

She was both on edge and enjoying his care.

Just as Adrian Grant had said himself, he wasn’t the type to get worked up anytime, anywhere.

At least for the entire ride, Adrian Grant had stuck to giving a proper massage.

The car had just stopped at the old residence.

Miss King came out with Ryan Grant.

Adrian Grant opened the car door and took the child from her.

"Mommy, I missed you so much."

As soon as he got in the car, Ryan Grant reached his arms out to Caroline Whitman, asking for a hug.

Caroline Whitman took the boy in her arms, patting his back gently as she smiled. "How much did you miss me?"

"More than Daddy misses you." The little one’s sweet, childish voice made Caroline Whitman laugh in spite of herself.

Adrian Grant shot the little rascal a look, saying with amusement, "How can that little head of yours compare its feelings of missing someone with an adult’s?"

Ryan Grant pouted, unconvinced. "A child’s missing his mommy is a very big deal too," he mumbled.

A smile touched Adrian Grant’s lips. "Yours is a child’s attachment to his mother. Daddy’s for Mommy is the bond between lovers. The weight of these two feelings can’t be compared, nor should they be."

Caroline Whitman shot him a sideways glance. ’The child was just joking,’ she thought, ’but this guy is so serious when he starts lecturing, with his perfectly structured arguments.’

Ryan Grant, who had just been pouting and trying to compete, suddenly had a look of pure clarity in his eyes.

He said, as if only half-understanding, "So it’s like how I love Mommy and how I love Daddy are the same amount?"

"Correct."

"Is Grandma missing Grandpa the same as me missing Grandpa?"

"Yes."

"And when Grandpa misses Grandma, it’s the same as when I miss Grandma?"

"That’s right."

Ryan Grant understood. "I get it now."

"Good, you’re a teachable child." Adrian Grant patted his head.

The little one, nestled in his mother’s arms, turned his head to look at his father and blinked. "So, Daddy, when you said my little head can’t compare its missing feelings with an adult’s... you were wrong."

Caroline Whitman laughed. "Sweetie, you even know how to apply what you’ve learned. Daddy’s right. No matter what the feeling is, it can’t be compared. Every genuine emotion between people is unique."

Adrian Grant hadn’t expected the boy to suddenly come out with that line. He just smiled faintly and said, "Yes, I was wrong."

Ryan Grant giggled. "I was wrong too. I shouldn’t have tried to compete with Daddy just now."

With that, he started chattering away to Caroline Whitman, telling her all about what he did while she was away.

The entire car was filled with Ryan Grant’s childish voice.

Even the driver’s mouth twitched as he listened, sighing to himself, ’This kid can really talk.’

Adrian Grant silently played the role of handing over the water cup.

Caroline Whitman sometimes wondered about it too. How could this child be so talkative?

’If only his father were half as talkative,’ she thought.

Ryan Grant took a big gulp of water and then asked, "Are we going to Grandma’s house later?"

Caroline Whitman said, "We’re going home first."

She hadn’t even asked Franklin Whitman if they were home yet.

Speaking of which, the closer it got to the showdown, the more nervous Caroline Whitman became.

After all, the whole situation was so surreal. She couldn’t possibly predict Franklin Whitman and Yolanda Young’s reactions based on over twenty years of familial affection.

Whether they would calmly accept the truth, force a marriage, or react in some other way—it was all a big question mark.

By the time she got home, it was already three o’clock.

She first went to the study to call Franklin Whitman and ask if he was home today.

Franklin Whitman: "Hey, are you coming over? Your timing is perfect. I just got back from having tea with an old classmate, and your mom is back from playing mahjong. What, are you and Adrian Grant coming over for dinner today?"

"No, I’m just bringing the child over for a visit."

"The child? Who?" Franklin Whitman paused for a second before it dawned on him. "Ryan?"

"What’s up? Are you dropping the kid off with us again?"

With all this back and forth, Franklin Whitman had more or less gotten used to it.

But being used to it was one thing; this situation couldn’t go on forever.

A child will grow closer to whoever they spend more time with. If the boy became closer to outsiders, wouldn’t his real parents be heartbroken?

Franklin Whitman couldn’t help but ask curiously, "What’s the deal with that friend of yours? Why are they always asking you to help watch their kid? How much benefit could they possibly bring to our company?"

To be honest, the level of care Caroline Whitman showed for this child was already getting a bit out of line.

They had held their tongues simply because the child was so well-behaved.

But a well-behaved child was one thing; the adults couldn’t be so inconsiderate.

Caroline Whitman: "This time, I’m coming to tell you about Ryan’s parentage."

"Parentage?" The word immediately piqued Franklin Whitman’s curiosity. "What parentage?"

Caroline Whitman changed the subject. "As long as you and Mom are home, that’s fine. Ryan and I are heading over now."

The call was abruptly disconnected. When Franklin Whitman tried to call back, all he got was a busy signal.

Yolanda Young asked, "What’s wrong? You’re making a strange face."

Franklin Whitman turned his head. "Caroline said she’s bringing Ryan over in a bit to tell us about his parentage."

Yolanda Young froze, hesitating. "Parentage?"

Franklin Whitman stared at his phone and grumbled, "I know, right? ’Parentage,’ she says. Making it all mysterious. You’d think he was some kind of royal heir."

Yolanda Young’s heart skipped a beat. She suddenly grew serious. "Do you remember what I told you about Ryan looking like Adrian Grant?"

"Hah, you’ve nagged me about that several times, how could I forget? You also said the kid looks like our daughter."

The usually oblivious Franklin Whitman suddenly trailed off. He slowly turned his head again to face Yolanda Young.

This time, it seemed the gears in his head were finally starting to turn.

"You don’t think..."

Though they were only a few steps apart, he half-ran over on his thick legs, his face a mask of shock and suspicion.

Yolanda Young, who had long been suspicious, seemed relatively calm now. "You run a company, so you should know the Grant Group’s current standing better than I do, right?"

"Do you think a powerful family like that would bring out a child of unknown origins and specifically invite our family to dine with them?"

After Yolanda Young got back, the more she thought about it, the fishier it seemed. But without any facts, she couldn’t just go around making wild assumptions about them.

For once, Franklin Whitman’s face was grave as he ran through all the possibilities in his mind.

Until Caroline Whitman walked in the door with the child.

"Danny’s here again?"

Miss Lynch, who had just returned from grocery shopping, was the first to see Ryan Grant run skillfully and cheerfully into the living room.