Chapter 10: Family Portrait in the Sunshine
1422words
He raised the document like a king brandishing his scepter. The room fell deathly silent, everyone holding their breath, all eyes fixed on him.
When he spoke, his voice wasn't loud, but each word landed like a stone, clear and unmistakable.
"This is a DNA test report."
He paused, his glacial stare boring into fox-face, who had gone ashen.
"It clearly states that I, Alex Sterling, and Leo Campbell share a 99.999% biological father-son relationship."
He held the report higher and announced, each word deliberate and distinct:
"Leo Campbell is not some child of 'questionable origin.' He is my son—Alex Sterling's biological son—and my only heir."
BOOM
The room seemed to explode—not physically, but in everyone's minds. A grand fireworks display of shock erupted in their thoughts. I heard countless voices of disbelief, regret, and astonishment weaving together like a bizarre symphony.
[Dear God! Biological?! Did I just insult the Sterling heir?]
[The only heir… this child will run the entire Sterling empire someday!]
[Those blue eyes—they're identical to Alex's! How did I miss that?]
[Oh no, I just sneered at his mother's dress…]
Through this mental chaos, Uncle Alex carried me through the crowd until we stood before Mom.
Mom remained frozen, tears streaming down her face like pearls from a broken necklace. Her lips trembled, but no words came.
Uncle Alex gazed at her, all ice melting from his expression, leaving only tenderness and profound regret.
"Claire," his voice gentler than I'd ever heard, "I'm sorry I'm six years late."
I heard his thoughts: [What a complete bastard I've been, letting you and our son suffer all this time… Please, just one more chance…]
He reached out his free hand to gently wipe away Mom's tears, then said before everyone: "What happened six years ago was my mother's fault, and even more, my own. I don't expect immediate forgiveness, but… would you give me a chance to make amends? To let us… become a real family?"
Mom finally broke. She covered her mouth, releasing long-suppressed sobs. Unable to speak, she just nodded—again and again and again.
Uncle Alex smiled—truly smiled. Not the hint of warmth beneath an iceberg I'd glimpsed before, but a genuine, radiant smile that lit his entire face.
His free arm reached out and pulled Mom—still sobbing—tightly against us.
The three of us, finally together in one embrace.
What happened next is a blur. I vaguely recall fox-face being severely dressed down by an ancient man with a flowing white beard—apparently the family patriarch—before slinking away in disgrace.
All those needle-eyed relatives suddenly transformed. They swarmed around us, faces wreathed in smiles, pressing gifts into my arms.
"What a darling boy! Here's Grandpa's welcome gift for you!"
"Little Leo, I'm your Great-Aunt Sophie. If anyone ever bothers you, you come straight to me!"
Their fawning made me dizzy. I buried my face in Uncle Alex's chest.
I guess I should call him Dad now.
A few months later, on a perfect weekend, we held a party in the garden of the mansion.
Grandpa and Grandma came, along with my unpredictable Uncle Jack, who was challenging the "Penguin Grandpa" butler to a popcorn-catching contest.
Mom wore a beautiful dress as she laughed with Grandma. No more gray clouds shadowed her face—only sunshine.
As for me, I rode on Dad's shoulders—the best viewing platform in the world, both high and rock-steady.
I swung my short legs, watching all the people I loved, my heart so full it felt like a honey-filled balloon about to drift skyward.
Just then, the little bell in my head—silent for so long—began to chime with the most beautiful melody I'd ever heard.
[Ding dong! Congratulations, dearest little master, on completing the ultimate hidden quest: 'Family Happiness'!]
[Reward: Permanent aura unlocked—'World's Most Beloved'!]
[Angel System Reminder: Your journey as everyone's beloved has only just begun. In the world ahead, many more people need your healing touch and protection!]
I yawned contentedly and rested my cheek against Dad's broad shoulder.
The most comfortable place in the whole world was right here.
——————
Since becoming the little prince of the Sterling family, my life has transformed completely.
The biggest change? We moved into an actual mansion, and I… well, I have a dad now.
Dad—formerly Ice Mountain Uncle Alex—tries his best to be an "ordinary dad," but he never quite pulls it off.
Take an ordinary morning, for example.
Golden sunlight flooded my new bedroom (spacious enough to park a car in) when a series of crashes and clangs jolted me awake. Burglars, I thought.
I tiptoed to the kitchen doorway and discovered my regal father wearing a ridiculous Winnie the Pooh apron (Mom's doing, I'm sure), waging war against a carton of eggs.
"Damn it all," he raged internally, "the cookbook clearly states a perfect sunny-side-up should have set whites and a runny yolk. Why does mine look like roadkill?!"
Beside him stood Mom, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe and laughing so hard she could barely stay upright. In her mind: [Oh, my poor billionaire trying to prove himself—he could close a billion-dollar merger more easily than cook a decent egg.]
In the end, Mom rescued both our breakfast and the kitchen. As I devoured her perfect eggs, watching Dad's defeated expression across the table, I hid my smile behind my fork.
Though Dad fails spectacularly at egg-frying, he excels in other areas. He often takes me to stuffy adult parties where people flock around him. I quickly notice their words rarely match their thoughts.
Once, a portly man with slicked-back hair pumped Dad's hand vigorously: "Alex, your new project is absolutely brilliant! I'm thoroughly impressed!"
But his thoughts told a different story: [This project has a massive vulnerability. I'll have my team short Sterling stock the minute I leave. Their 'unbeatable' reputation is about to take a nosedive!]
I tugged Dad's pant leg, pointed at the man's protruding belly, and announced loudly: "Dad, this man's tummy is full of sour lemons! Is he super jealous of you?"
The man's face turned the color of moldy cheese.
Dad scooped me up, kissed my cheek, and smiled at the man—a smile like the first frost of winter.
After that, parties became our "secret game"—I served as Dad's personal "truth detector," and he bought me whatever toys I wanted. We made an unbeatable team.
Our home buzzes with activity now. My grandparents moved in too, complaining that the mansion's manicured lawns were "all show, no substance." They promptly commandeered a section to plant tomatoes, cucumbers, and corn.
Each morning, Grandpa—a simple retired carpenter—instructs the estate's professional gardeners on proper corn fertilization. The gardeners' thoughts are priceless: [I have a master's degree in horticulture from Cambridge, why am I taking corn-growing lessons from this old man?! Though he's actually making some good points…]
Uncle Jack treats the estate like his personal amusement park. His attempt to teach me skateboarding ended with a spectacular "human cannonball" dive into the garden fountain, sending the goldfish into hysterics.
We howled with laughter. Even Dad joined in, though his mind was busy calculating: [The cost of fishing him out and cleaning the fountain probably equals six months' profit from his entire company. Still… seeing Claire laugh like that makes it worth every penny.]
Evenings are my favorite.
Mom and Dad come to my room together for bedtime stories.
Mom's voice, soft as feathers, brings Little Red Riding Hood and Peter Rabbit to life. Dad volunteers his deepest, most serious boardroom voice to play the Big Bad Wolf and the cunning fox.
"Little bunny, be good, open the door…" Dad growls, trying desperately to sound menacing.
But his thoughts betray him: [That rabbit's bow tie is adorable. I should have my assistant call Hermès tomorrow to see if they make children's versions for Leo.]
I always fall asleep giggling at the contrast between his "terrifying" wolf howls and his tender thoughts.
Tonight is no different.
I snuggle under my cloud-soft blanket and close my eyes, listening to the gentle sounds of my family drifting up from downstairs.
Dad and Mom are having a "spirited discussion" about tomorrow's picnic location—Central Park or the beach. Grandpa's boasting about his prize tomatoes. Uncle Jack is loudly promising to demonstrate "lawn surfing" tomorrow.
The whole mansion hums with happy, chaotic life.
It's perfect.
This is my favorite kind of noise.
Surrounded by love and the sounds of home, I drift slowly, contentedly into dreamland.
