South Asia.

The lights in the Batley villa had just come on, warm and bright, and the whole place was buzzing with laughter. Cheers drifted through the hall nonstop.

But the lively mood froze the second one person appeared.

That person was Victor Batley’s wife—Vivian Adams.

Vivian sat in a wheelchair, the rims gleaming under the lights. Behind her stood an old butler, half his face ruined, the scars tugging tightly at his expression.

The guests stared at one another, stiff and unsure, holding their poses like someone had hit pause.

In that eerie silence, a baby suddenly cried.

Vivian turned toward the sound. Iris Henderson had been hiding behind Mrs. Batley, but the moment she sensed Vivian’s eyes on her, she panicked and twisted her body away like a guilty kid.

The move was so clumsy and obvious that Vivian felt her stomach churn.

She’d thought Iris had died in the fire with her own parents. Turns out not only had Iris survived—she’d ended up in Victor’s bed and even given him a child.

Victor pushed through the crowd, hurrying to her. “Why aren’t you resting at the villa? What are you doing here?”

Vivian shot a glance at the wall, where a giant full‑month celebration sign had been made out of flower petals. “Congrats,” she said lightly. “You’re a dad now.”

Victor’s expression twitched, a flicker of guilt slipping through. “If you have something to say, let’s talk at home. Don’t make a spectacle here.”

Vivian raised her brows. “You’re openly throwing a party for your illegitimate kid. Aren’t *you* worried about becoming a joke?”

Victor’s face immediately darkened at the word *illegitimate*.

Vivian lifted her hand and pointed. The old butler quietly pushed her wheelchair in that direction.

They soon stopped beside a table covered with a red cloth. Victor noticed her reaching for the documents on top and jerked in surprise. He rushed to snatch them away.

But the old butler moved fast, blocking him with his body.

It was the Batley family genealogy.

Vivian flipped through a few pages, and then her eyes locked onto something—frozen, cold.

She jerked her head up, eyes sharp. “You actually put him into the family registry?”

Seeing there was no way to dodge it anymore, Victor Batley simply admitted it. “He carries Batley blood. Why shouldn’t he be listed?”

“But you filed the child under our names.”

In South Asia’s rules, whoever’s names the child is registered under, that’s the child’s legal parents.

Facing her question, Victor froze, completely unable to explain himself.

Several elders seated at the head table instantly frowned.

“Victor, didn’t you say Vivian knew about this?”

“Uncle… I… I—”

Right then, Mrs. Batley appeared, dressed to the nines, jewelry catching the light. She held her head high as she calmly stepped forward. “Everyone, Victor is the only male heir of our branch. He just wanted to ensure the Batley line doesn’t end. He was afraid Vivian couldn’t handle the truth, so he kept it quiet.”

Mrs. Batley was sharp—just a few words, and she’d successfully dragged the matter onto the grand altar of family continuity.

Vivian Adams had injured her spine; she’d spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.

Doctors had warned her not to get pregnant within the next ten years, saying it would put too much strain on her body.

Before the fire destroyed the Adams family, Mrs. Batley never dared bring up babies. But now that the Adamses were gone, she clearly felt no need to tiptoe anymore.

“With all the tech we have these days,” Vivian said evenly, “if it’s really just about having a kid, why not look into surrogacy? Why does he have to… do it himself?”

Mrs. Batley instantly caught the jab—Vivian was openly mocking Victor’s inability to keep his pants zipped. Her face darkened. “Mind your tongue! There are elders present!”

Vivian ignored her outburst. “If you’re hell‑bent on giving that child a legitimate identity, fine. But first, Victor and I divorce. Otherwise, the kid stays outside. No discussion.”

Even with things blowing up like this, Mrs. Batley never once considered letting Victor divorce Vivian.

At least not now.

In South Asia, reputation made or broke business.

If Victor divorced Vivian so soon after the Adams family’s downfall, word would spread fast—and people would call the Batleys ungrateful and heartless.

Once that stain stuck, Victor’s future would be ruined for good.