Yes, I Have a Child with the Villain

After returning home and taking his medicine, Ryan Grant grew groggy for a bit.

This was the second time Caroline Whitman had experienced her son catching a cold.

Seeing that he was drowsy, Caroline Whitman laid him down on the sofa. She sat beside him, handling work online while checking on Ryan Grant’s condition from time to time.

Adrian Grant saw this from his study and walked over. He first felt the boy’s forehead, only pulling his hand away when he confirmed it wasn’t too hot.

He walked around to her side and sat down.

"If you’re really that worried we can’t take good care of him, I can take him to the old family home?"

Caroline Whitman’s worry was written all over her face, so of course Adrian Grant could see it. Thus, he offered a suggestion.

He personally felt there was no need to make such a fuss over a child’s illness. If they couldn’t even handle something this minor, they were failing as parents.

But if Caroline Whitman was worried, he didn’t mind letting the more experienced elders take over childcare.

Caroline Whitman was surprised. "How did you know that’s what I was thinking?"

Caroline Whitman truly wasn’t prepared to be a mother, nor did she have any experience dealing with a sick child.

So, even though Ryan Grant just had a minor cold and a slight fever, she was genuinely starting to panic.

’No matter what, I can’t let the child from the future develop a serious illness on my watch.’

She figured people like Miss King and Miss Lynch would have more experience, and maybe she should hand the child over to them.

But then again, the little guy was sick and would surely want them with him. She couldn’t just wash her hands of the matter and leave him at the old family home.

Adrian Grant said, "Just a guess. You’ve been here with him all morning."

His voice was soft.

"How about we have Miss King come over instead? If the others find out Ryan is sick, they might worry about him even more than we are."

To keep the older generation from experiencing the same anxiety, Caroline Whitman settled for the next best option: having Miss King come over.

The main reason she didn’t ask for Miss Lynch from her family’s side was that the fact she was living with Adrian Grant wasn’t officially out in the open yet.

Franklin Whitman and Yolanda Young didn’t mention it, and neither did she.

It was a tacit understanding among them all.

If Miss Lynch came to take care of the child and saw with her own eyes that she and Adrian Grant were living together, that would change the nature of the situation entirely.

Besides, Miss King already knew, so there was no need for all this trouble.

Adrian Grant, in fact, didn’t want a third person disturbing them—their child being the only exception.

Not even Miss King.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent Miss King back to the old family home and dismissed the rest of the staff at The Seraphic after Jonathan Grant and the others found out about the situation.

"If Ryan isn’t better in two days, I’m sending him to the old family home."

Just as Adrian Grant said this, Ryan Grant woke up on the sofa.

It was unclear whether their voices had woken him or if he had simply slept his fill, but the little guy sat up from under the blanket, rubbing his drowsy eyes, just in time to hear Adrian Grant’s last words.

He was instantly wide awake and replied in his small, childish voice, "Dad, you’re so bossy."

"I can’t control when my cold gets better! You can’t separate me and Mommy."

Ryan Grant reached out and hugged Caroline Whitman’s arm, leaning his whole little body against her. He puffed out his cheeks, which were still creased from sleep, and looked at Adrian Grant with displeasure.

A small tuft of hair stuck up from the top of the freshly-woken boy’s head. Paired with his earnest, protesting expression, it robbed him of any and all intimidating power.

"Your dad’s just teasing you," Caroline Whitman said with a laugh, reaching out to smooth down his cowlick.

But no one knows a father better than his son. Ryan Grant huffed. "Dad’s not teasing me. He’s serious."

Adrian Grant’s expression was noncommittal.

Trying to salvage Adrian Grant’s image, Caroline Whitman had no choice but to repeat, "Your dad is just teasing you."

"No, he isn’t! Before, every time I caught a small cold, he’d take me to the old family home to stay with Grandpa and Grandma for a few days."

Adrian Grant raised an eyebrow, quite impressed with his future self’s methods.

’Since neither of us has experience raising a child, it’s best to leave it to someone who does.’

"And Mommy, you didn’t stop Dad then, either." The little guy shot Caroline Whitman a reproachful look.

Caroline Whitman let out a guilty laugh.

’So my future self was just like this, huh?’

She quickly changed the subject, "Are you hungry? If you are, I’ll have your dad make you something to eat."

A light rain had started to fall after they got back from the hospital, and it wasn’t the kind of weather that made you want to go out.

Ordering takeout was definitely out of the question.

Ryan Grant rubbed his stomach. "I’m hungry."

Just as he said that, the doorbell rang. It was Reina Carson, carrying some groceries.

While handling his work online, Adrian Grant had taken a moment to ask Miss King what a sick child could eat.

Not long after dropping them off around ten o’clock, Reina Carson had received a new task from Adrian Grant: to go grocery shopping.

Although she was Adrian Grant’s corporate secretary, the job description had explicitly stated that she was also to act as a personal assistant, on call at all times.

It was just that in the past half-year, Adrian Grant had rarely given her personal tasks. She never had to take urgent late-night calls or handle miscellaneous errands unrelated to her job.

Back then, she had even felt fortunate. For such a high salary, just handling professional matters every day was surprisingly easy. It didn’t come with the pressures she imagined a domineering CEO’s secretary would face.

But as it turned out... heh, she had been happy too soon.

’It seems the only reason those six months were so quiet was that Adrian Grant hadn’t started dating yet.’

’That famous line, "I haven’t seen President Grant smile like that in a long time"... I have a feeling the day I get to use it isn’t far off.’

"President Grant," Reina Carson said politely, offering the groceries with both hands while waiting for Adrian Grant’s next instruction.

However, Adrian Grant didn’t say anything. He just made a sound of acknowledgment, took the bags, and closed the door.

It was Reina Carson’s first time dealing with a situation like this. She waited outside the door for two minutes, only leaving after confirming Adrian Grant had no new orders for her.

Once in the kitchen, Adrian Grant rolled his sleeves up to his forearms.

He washed his hands, placed a daikon radish on the cutting board, and began to slice with a steady, unhurried rhythm. The radish was cut into long, even shreds, each one nearly identical in thickness.

He peeled and smashed a piece of ginger, chopped some scallions, and minced a cut of meat, which he then tossed with a pinch of salt and starch before setting it aside to marinate.

Caroline Whitman leaned against the kitchen doorframe, originally planning to ask if he needed a hand.

But after watching for a moment, she silently swallowed the offer to help.

She knew Adrian Grant could cook, but she hadn’t realized his movements were so swift and efficient.

Caroline Whitman thought for a moment before walking in anyway and asking for the sake of appearances, "Need any help?"

Without looking up, Adrian Grant gave the same reply as always: "No."

Only, by the time he said it, Caroline Whitman had already walked up next to him.

The corner of her pale clothes appeared in his peripheral vision, so Adrian Grant relented, "In that case, you can help me with the apron."

Caroline Whitman stopped in her tracks. Her gaze shifted to a blue apron hanging on the wall.

She was silent for a moment, then did as he said, walking over to take the apron down and shake it out.

Adrian Grant finally stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, dipping his head naturally.

Caroline Whitman played along, looping the apron’s strap over his neck. Her arms wrapped around his waist from either side, reaching for the ties behind his back.

The gesture was like an embrace, but without them actually pressing close.

They were too close, so close she could smell his familiar, cool, and clean scent.

Her line of sight was level with his collarbones. The top button of his shirt was undone, leaving his collar slightly open. The lines of his clavicles extended from either side, meeting in a clean, well-defined hollow just below his Adam’s apple.

Her gaze drifted upward, settling on his thin, soft-pink lips.

’If I just stood on my tiptoes a little, I could kiss him.’