The sickly little one was adopted by a wealthy foreigner and became a favorite.

There were very few things that belonged to a woman. There were two cans of milk powder on the table. Winston picked them up and saw that they were expired.

But the little guy was incredibly well-behaved. As soon as he got home, he climbed onto the stool, picked up the bottle, and started making his own formula.

Those skillful movements clearly indicated it wasn't the first time.

But how could the little guy touch something as dangerous as a kettle?

He was so small, holding a water bottle almost the size of his body, struggling to pour water into the baby bottle. The water might touch the electrical outlet, he might lose his balance and fall off the stool, or he might get scalded by the water.

A tiny child struggles to survive alone in a cramped room.

It was incredibly heartbreaking to watch.

He was that kind of person, tenaciously and dangerously walking on the edge of safety.

He had burn scars on his hands from before, and his small body was very thin, with only a little flesh on his face.

These are all traces of his suffering.

That poor child, the first thing he did after preparing the milk wasn't to drink it himself, but to put it to Winston's lips.

"Dad, drink."

Winston paused, unsure how to respond to his child's sharing, and had to look to his assistant for help.

Assistant: I don't know either, I'm still single!

But in order to earn a high salary, the assistant gritted his teeth and said:

"Please bring the bottle over. After all, the formula has expired, and it's not good for the baby to drink it."

Winston then confiscated the baby's bottle.

The black rabbit was also stunned.

In the past, when he shared his baby milk with his mother, she would praise him, kiss him, and then give it back to the baby. But his father had a big appetite and wanted to drink the whole bottle!

The little guy blinked and looked at Winston with pitiful eyes, trying to win his father back.

But it seems that the father didn't receive the baby's signal at all.

As a result, the cubs could only rub their bellies to comfort their shrunken little bellies, then drag their blankets and obediently curl up on the bed.

He patted the blanket beside him, telling his father to lie down too, and said:

"Baby, go to sleep. Mommy will be home tomorrow."

"Close your eyes quickly, or Mom won't come home..."

Winston didn't know how to feel sorry for him.

He didn't know how to tell a two-year-old child about his mother's death, nor how to tell him that his mother would never come back.

Even though Winston couldn't bear it, he still had to reach out and pick the little guy up again, and say to him earnestly:

"Let's go back first, okay? Daddy will take you home, alright?"

Unfortunately, he forgot again that the little guy couldn't understand.

So Winston had no choice but to forcibly take the cub away, along with the few cub clothes they had, and bring him back to the car.

"Mommy..." the little guy patted the car door.

This time, the little guy, who had been so obedient just moments before, finally threw a tantrum.

He slowly moved out of Winston's arms, crossed his arms, and turned his back to Winston.

This is the consequence of his anger.

"I want my mommy! I want to go home! Daddy's a bad baby! A bad baby..."

Winston had never seen such a young child throw a tantrum before. He found it strange and couldn't help but poke the little guy on the back.

The little guy bounced once, but didn't jump up to breathe on it, nor did it bite.

He has never learned how to get angry.

So his anger is simply a way of staying away from bad people.

Winston nudged him, and he moved back a little, until he was in a corner facing the car door, his cheeks puffing out in anger.

Even the bodyguards couldn't help but marvel:

"Oh my god, he's so sweet. What child is this good at being affectionate? My child was always climbing on the roof and tearing the tiles off the house when he was little. He wrecked the whole house when he was three. He's never this soft and sweet as a glutinous rice ball."

Little guy: What are you babbling about?

He didn't wait for his mother to come home, nor did his father come to coax him. He tried to stay awake for a while, but he couldn't resist the sleepiness and fell asleep.

Children of this age are driven more by instinct than reason, so they also have the ability to fall asleep on the spot.

While Winston thought he was still angry, the little guy had already pressed his round head against the car window and remained motionless.

Winston didn't notice until the little guy slid down the car door and fell asleep in an incredibly awkward position.

He rushed over to help, and saw that the little guy was sleeping so soundly that his cheeks were flattened from being pressed down.

He had no choice but to take the child back into his arms.

As soon as he's in his parents' arms, the little guy automatically turns around and buries his face under his dad's coat.

They crave that little bit of security.

Winston looked at the child who had left him at a loss, and no matter what, he couldn't abandon him... He could only take him back to the manor first.

The butler hadn't expected Winston to return so soon.

According to Winston's original schedule, he wouldn't be home until at least late at night.

For Winston, this home was no different from a place to rest.

He just sleeps here at night.

Because his work often required him to travel all over the country, and there was no one waiting for him at home, the huge manor was always empty and deserted.

Therefore, Winston did not have an attachment to "home" and would not understand the little guy's fear of leaving home and coming to an unfamiliar environment.

Fortunately, the little one is asleep now, sleeping peacefully in Winston's arms.

Otherwise, who knows what kind of tantrum he'll throw when he wakes up.

Winston instinctively relaxed his arm, wanting the little one to sleep more comfortably.

The butler hadn't yet noticed the cub under his coat.

The butler approached in a few steps, about to reach out and take the coat from Winston's hand, when Winston gestured with a finger:

"Shhh."

The butler followed Winston's gaze and looked down, only to see that there was a small, soft little creature in Mr. Winston's arms.

The butler's first thought was that it was a cat, because it looked so small.

It wasn't until Mr. Winston revealed the cub's face that he realized it was actually a human cub that was only two or three years old.

Even the child was sleeping so peacefully in Winston's arms, clinging tightly to Winston's clothes.

Even the butler couldn't maintain his usual impeccable manners:

"Mr. Winston, what is this...?!?"

The butler's expression suggested he was beginning to doubt whether this was the child Winston had brought back.

Winston's answer was even more surprising than he had expected:

"He is my child."

Even the butler, who had seen so many grand occasions, couldn't help but wipe his glasses.

However, what surprised him most was not the cub's identity, but Winston's attitude towards the cub.

Mr. Winston already had four children, all conceived through IVF. They were raised and managed by their godmother after birth and were subsequently raised by the family. As their father, Winston rarely participated in their lives.

He had never been so affectionate toward a child before.

I've never held my child so gently before, and I was worried that others would disturb the child's sleep.

Such careful and protective behavior demonstrates that the little guy holds a special place in Winston's heart.

The butler sensed something was amiss, but his integrity remained unchanged for ten years; he simply asked Mr. Winston:

"Do I need to prepare a children's room now?"