Chapter 546 - 544: So Touching, So Touchingly Fabricated

Chapter 546: Chapter 544: So Touching, So Touchingly Fabricated

The moment he asked the question,

Celeste Grant’s thoughts flew to her precious son back in the Cunmere Realm. His real body was currently in Cultivation inside an Ice Coffin and wouldn’t wake for several decades.

However, a sliver of his Primordial Spirit had traveled through an Array within the Ice Coffin, arriving in Elyndra to become an ordinary person.

Now, her eight-year-old son was sitting right there, looking up at them and asking what had happened all those years ago. She had no choice but to invent a story on the spot. After all, his presence in Elyndra was the direct manifestation of that sliver of Primordial Spirit—he hadn’t even needed to be reincarnated.

AHEM... She put a finger to her lips and coughed lightly. Glancing at her son, she began, "Listen to what Mother has to say..." ’Say? Say what?’

’This stupid brain of mine, think fast, make something up!’

She lowered her head slightly.

Her face was a mask of sorrow.

Then, she spoke. "You’ve seen it yourself. Your father has such a striking face. Back then, women were constantly throwing themselves at him. He always refused them, of course, but it broke my heart to see it. So, we argued, and I ran away from home while I was pregnant with you."

Javier Sinclair’s eyes widened. He shot a look at his wife, then pointed at himself. "Me...?"

’He argued with his wife, and she ran away from home pregnant with their child? I’m being saddled with all the blame for this!’

He sent a message directly to her ear using Telekinesis.

My dear, I know you’re a talented storyteller, but isn’t this a bit too ridiculous?

Celeste Grant shot him a look that clearly said, ’Why don’t you try making something up, then?’ before glaring at him.

’Me, make something up? No thanks.’

’Ordering me to kill someone would be easier.’

He simply lacked the talent for spouting such nonsense with a straight face. With that thought, Javier Sinclair nodded slightly, his expression morphing into one that said, ’It’s all my fault.’

"This was all my fault."

The moment he spoke,

he looked up slightly toward the distance.

A nostalgic look appeared on his face.

Before he could even feel wronged, he saw his son’s gaze shift to him. The boy was looking at him as if he were a heartless scoundrel.

Javier Sinclair was speechless.

’I am suffering...’

’But I shall say nothing.’

Celeste Grant glanced at Javier and immediately picked up on his cue.

"It is indeed your fault. If you didn’t have a face that attracts so much unwanted attention, I never would have run away. And if I hadn’t run away, our son wouldn’t have been born out in the world alone."

Javier Sinclair replied, "My dear, it is my fault. I’ve wronged you and our child. I never should have been born looking like this. If only I were more ordinary-looking... SIGH..."

Aaron Sinclair remained silent, his gaze shifting between his parents’ faces, an indescribable expression on his own.

’Are they even listening to themselves? It sounds a bit like they’re humblebragging. Wait, what does humblebragging even mean? Why did I even think of that word?’

Aaron Sinclair glanced at them, his eyes sweeping over their faces. He had to admit it to himself: his birth parents’ beauty was truly unparalleled.

Celeste Grant shot the boy’s father a glare.

Her gaze then shifted back to her son.

As if recalling the past, her face filled with sorrow. She couldn’t help but say, "Back then, just a few days after you were born, you were stolen. Your father and I searched everywhere for you, but we were ambushed by assassins and fell off a cliff. Your father hit his head and was in a coma for a long time, so I had to stay and take care of him. He only woke up recently, and that’s when we returned to Atheria."

Javier Sinclair: "..."

Javier Sinclair sat there without retorting or interrupting. He glanced sideways at Celeste Grant. ’My wife’s ability to spout nonsense with a straight face is truly second to none. But still... shouldn’t she at least ask for my opinion, since I’m the one she’s talking about?’

’The great Demon God himself... fell off a cliff and hit his head? If word of this got out, I’d be a laughingstock. Forget falling off a cliff—you couldn’t leave a mark on my forehead even if you hit me with a Magic Treasure!’

He reached out, poured himself a cup of tea, and took a sip.

’Ah, cool tea. Perfect for calming the nerves.’

Meanwhile, Celeste Grant was completely lost in the fictional story she was weaving, unable to pull herself out.

She continued, "The moment we returned to Atheria, we sent people to search for you. We thought that after so many years, the chances of finding you were slim. But no matter what, we had to try. If we couldn’t find you in a year, we’d search for two. If not in two years, then ten. If not in ten years, your father and I would have searched for you our entire lives. As long as we were still breathing, we believed there would be a day for our family to reunite."

She paused for a moment before continuing, "Then, a while ago, the news about the real and fake young masters of the General’s Mansion spread. When your father and I heard about it, we felt a deep ache in our hearts. Perhaps it truly is the bond between a mother and child. We had someone investigate the General’s Mansion and even saw a portrait of you. The very first moment I saw that portrait, I knew you had to be my son. Then we specifically investigated the General’s Mansion and discovered..."

Her face twisted with fury.

"I discovered that the ones who stole you all those years ago were people from the General’s Mansion! Did they tell you that you were found? Did they demand your gratitude, telling you that if they hadn’t found you, you would have died long ago?"

Those words were all too familiar to him.

Yes.

That was exactly it.

Aaron Sinclair’s pupils contracted. His eyes filled with disbelief, and his mind subconsciously filled in the blanks. Everything suddenly made sense.

The ’father’ and ’mother’ of the General’s Mansion had never liked him; in private, they forbade him from calling them ’Father’ and ’Mother’. He always thought it was because he wasn’t good enough. It was only when the real young master returned that he learned he wasn’t their biological son.

They called him an unwanted bastard who had usurped their real son’s place. That woman from the General’s Mansion especially—the one he had once called Mother. She said he should be grateful for getting to enjoy so many years in her son’s stead. She said that without them, he would have died long ago.

So there was no debt of gratitude. They hadn’t ’found’ him at all.

Aaron Sinclair lowered his head.

His fists clenched.

He looked up.

He looked at Celeste Grant.

"Why did they steal me?"

Celeste Grant explained, "The General’s Mansion doesn’t have a clean background; they’ve made many enemies in secret. We discovered that back then, they were being hunted by assassins. In order to protect their newborn child, they came up with a plan: find a child of a similar age to their son, swap him with their real son, and secretly send their own child away. Then, they would use the child they found as a replacement—to die in their son’s place."

On this point, Celeste Grant wasn’t lying. She had learned the general gist of the matter from her time in Primordia. They really had intended to steal a child back then; they just happened to find her son on the road. They used him to take the place of their own son in a fatal calamity, but they never treated him well.

’At this point, those people are all going to die anyway. What does it matter if they take the blame for one more thing before they do? Even if they tell the truth later, would my son believe them? He’ll just think they’re trying to make excuses.’

After hearing Celeste Grant’s words,

Aaron Sinclair’s hands trembled with rage.

He mumbled in a low voice,

"So... what right did they have to say they found me and raised me? It turns out, from the very beginning, they were just using me to die in their son’s place. They stole me and still expected me to be grateful... What right did they have? What right?!"