Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 204: Give the mother money but the child stay

"Grandfather," Sandra rose gracefully from her seat, her slender finger pointing accusingly at the small boy cowering in the arms of a young woman.

"Are you really planning to keep this... illegitimate child?"

Her porcelain-like face twisted with barely suppressed fury, her teeth clenched as she spat out the words.

"No.

I won’t allow it!"

The boy seemed to shrink under Sandra’s venomous glare, his tiny frame trembling uncontrollably.

The young woman holding him instinctively tightened her embrace, her eyes wide with fear as she cast a silent plea toward Mr. Porter.

Mr. Porter gripped her hand in return, his lips parting slightly—yet no words came. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

In this matter, his voice held no weight.

From across the room, Mr. Porter watched their intertwined fingers, her own nails digging so deeply into her palms they threatened to draw blood.

She lowered her lashes, forcing herself to steady her breathing, to maintain her composure in front of the others.

"Sandra."

Grandpa Porter’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, his expression and tone icy, laced with unmistakable warning.

"The position you stand in now is different.

You must consider everything from the perspective of the family—not yourself."

"Grandfather, I’m only thinking about the Porter family," Sandra pressed her lips together and said solemnly.

"Have you forgotten the scandal caused by the Luther

Family’s sudden illegitimate son twenty years ago?

We can’t let history repeat itself."

Grandpa’s eyes darkened.

Before he could speak, Mr. Porter’s voice cut in sharply.

"Sandra, have you forgotten that the so-called ’joke of an illegitimate son’ you’re talking about is the very man you’re set to marry tomorrow?"

He sneered.

"Of course, he was your own choice."

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made such a disgraceful scene at Grandpa Luther’s banquet.

Sandra flinched as if struck, her furious gaze snapping toward Mr. Porter.

"Mr. Porter, shut your mouth!"

Mr. Porter met her glare with equal disdain.

"Calling your own father by his full name—are you trying to prove to everyone how ill-mannered you are?"

To him, this insolent daughter was even more insufferable than her mother.

"You—"

Sandra took a step forward, about to approach Mr. Porter.

"Enough!!"

Grandpa Porter grabbed the teapot filled with boiling water from the table and smashed it violently onto the floor.

The sharp sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the vast living room.

Both Sandra and Mr. Porter were startled by grandpa’s outburst, instantly falling silent.

Not just them.

The entire living room plunged into absolute stillness.

The patriarch’s gaze darkened as he looked at his son and granddaughter.

His greatest failure in life had been his descendants.

At least now, there was renewed hope.

Under grandpa Porter’s heavy stare, both Mr. Porter and Sandra felt crushing pressure, hastily averting their eyes and lowering their heads.

After a long pause, the old man spoke slowly.

"The bloodline of the Porter families cannot be left adrift.

Since this child’s lineage is confirmed, I will personally take charge of his upbringing."

His gaze swept past them, coming to rest on the young woman standing in the corner. Raised by his side?

Personally mentored?!

The same sentence elicited completely opposite reactions from Mr. Porter and Sandra.

"Dad—" "Grandpa!"

Yet Grandpa Porter didn’t spare either of them a glance.

His piercing gaze made the young woman fidget nervously, her hands and feet restless with unease.

Deep down, an ominous premonition began creeping up on her.

"I’ll have someone give you money," Grandpa Porter’s voice was as cold and unyielding as winter frost.

"Take it and leave America as soon as possible."

Clearly, this was his version of keeping the child while discarding the mother.

"Grandpa Porter," the woman’s eyes widened in alarm as she clutched her son tightly, shaking her head.

"I don’t want money.

I just want to stay with my child."

She hadn’t secretly left after getting pregnant, endured childbirth, and waited all this time just for a payout.

Her pleading gaze shifted once more to Mr. Porter.

"Porter—"

"Pamela," Mr. Porter glanced at Grandpa Porter, whose fury was barely restrained, then turned back to the woman with a helpless expression.

"Listen to my father. Take the money and leave."

He knew his father’s temper all too well.

If this dragged on, Pamela wouldn’t even get a single cent.

"No, I won’t go," the woman shook her head vehemently, her accusatory stare fixed on Mr. Porter.

"Porter, didn’t you promise to divorce that old hag and make me the next Mrs. Porter?"

"An old woman? Divorced?"

Mrs. Porter’s lips pressed into a tight line, her face darkening as she shot Mr. Porter a furious glare.

Sandra, however, didn’t notice the tension.

Her mind was still reeling from Grandpa’s words—that he intended to raise this illegitimate child under their roof.

"Pamela," Mr. Porter’s frown deepened, his eyes flashing a clear warning at the woman. "Enough of this nonsense.

Take the money and leave."

His words had been nothing more than a careless remark, thrown out in the chaos of this sudden son’s appearance.

But this woman clearly didn’t know her place—she was actually taking him seriously.

"Fine, fine," the woman muttered through gritted teeth, her gaze darting between Mr. Porter and grandpa.

"I’ll go.

But I’m taking Zamile with me."

Clutching the child to her chest, she turned to leave.

With Porter family blood in her arms, she was certain she’d get what she wanted—one way or another.

"You ungrateful wretch," Grandpa Porter’s brows instantly furrowed, his gaze turning several degrees colder than before.

"Bring the child here.

Escort her out."

"Yes, sir!"

The butler immediately understood and motioned for two men to approach the woman.

As they clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her away, the woman’s eyes widened in terror.

This was nothing like what the mysterious man on the phone had promised!

With the woman removed and the wailing child carried off, the living room fell silent once more.

"Grandfather—"

Sandra spoke up again, hoping to persuade her grandpa to reconsider.

But before she could continue, Grandpa Porter cut her off.

"My decisions are not open to debate.

Get out, all of you."

His tone was unyielding, leaving no room for argument.

Without so much as a glance at Sandra or her mother, Mr. Porter turned and strode out.

"Sandra, let’s go too."

Afraid that grandpa might lose his temper, Mr. Porter quickly pulled Sandra away.

The spacious living room was now empty, save for grandpa Porter and the butler standing nearby.

"Bryan," grandpa murmured, massaging his temples with a heavy sigh.

"How are things on Sinclair’s end?"

He had waited far too long for this opportunity—there was no room for failure now.

Meanwhile.

"Sweetheart—"

Camilla’s weary voice drifted through the phone.

"Hmm."

Sinclair responded softly, sweat trickling down his striking features before dripping from his chiseled jaw onto the floor.

"I’m here."

The dark eyes that had been brimming with lethal intensity moments ago now softened into calm.

No wonder Ramsey always said that his wife was Sinclair’s only antidote.

You couldn’t be more right.

A brief silence hung over the phone before Camilla spoke again.

"What are you up to?"

Sinclair glanced down at the bloodied figures at his feet, his voice calm and detached.

"Just taking care of some minor business."

Gerald exchanged looks with the mercenaries standing nearby.

In Luther’s world,

"minor business" was just another way of saying

"taking out a few people."