Chapter 1

"Hello, my name is Natalie Jones, and my research topic is—how to pluck hemorrhoids and knead them into a rabbit's tail."

Natalie's voice rang out powerfully across the lecture hall. Before she could even open her PowerPoint to elaborate, everything went black.

And when she opened her eyes again, she realized she had transmigrated—into the body of a little girl.

"You filthy brat! You really think you're Ms. Jones now? Just wait until Mr. Jones brings his adopted daughter home—let's see if I don't beat you to death then!

"That girl is Mr. Jones' precious treasure, someone he cherishes like his own flesh and blood! Not like you—a worthless little beast who should have been strangled at birth! Now get over here!

A chilling sense of danger crept up Natalie's spine, and before she could even process the situation, her body moved on instinct—running as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Natalie glanced back in confusion while dashing away, only to see a furious, twisted face not far behind. A plump woman was storming toward her, her massive body jiggling with every step. In her hand—was a whip.

Natalie had no doubt. That whip was meant for her.

"Actually, scratch that. If she catches you, the first thing to hit you won't be the whip—it'll be her enormous behind."

A sudden voice echoed in her mind, making her momentarily falter.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to question it. The footsteps behind her were getting closer.

Panic-stricken, Natalie ran even faster.

She had no idea where she was going, dashing around like a headless chicken. The place was huge, and she didn't dare enter any unknown rooms. With no other choice, she bolted down the stairs.

"To the right! Push that broken chair aside—there's a hole behind it! Crawl through!" the voice said.

Natalie's eyes flickered.

Sensing her hesitation, the voice sighed. "I'm your transmigration assistant—you can call me ‘System'. Only you can hear me, and I'm not here to harm you."

There was no time to argue. Feeling the wind from the furious woman charging behind her, Natalie put her doubts aside and followed the system's instructions.

And sure enough, there was a hole. It was small—an adult could probably only wedge their butt into it—but thankfully, Natalie's current body was tiny, and she slipped through with ease.

The plump woman rushed to the door but was a second too late. She could only watch in frustration as Natalie disappeared into the bushes.

The woman's face twisted in rage. Then, a flicker of unease crossed her mind.

That little brat was covered in marks from her beatings… Would anyone find out?

However, her doubts disappeared just as quickly as they had surfaced.

Even if Mr. Jones saw Natalie, what did it matter? She was just a forgotten disgrace abandoned at birth.

Scoffing, the plump woman spat on the ground.

The Jones estate was enormous, with plenty of maids. All she had to do was give the order, and they'd drag the little beast right back to her.

"You ungrateful little wretch. Just wait until you come crawling back—I'll make sure you regret it."

Meanwhile, Natalie had been running for ages. Only when she was sure no one was following did she finally stop, panting.

This body was in terrible shape. She hadn't even run that far, yet she already felt like dying.

"What the hell is going on? Why am I here?"

Catching her breath, she scanned her surroundings and leaned against the nearest tree.

"You've transmigrated into a novel called 'The Overpowered Daddy's Beloved Baby'," the system said.

Natalie sighed. That title alone screamed "wholesome family fluff".

If it were called "The Husband's Beloved", that would be a different story.

She already had a whole strategy in mind. First, she would sleep with him, then rob him blind, and finally disappear without a trace.

A man who had never suffered before should at least get a taste of being scammed.

"Hey, stop with those dirty thoughts! Please act your age, for you're a child! This is a proper transmigration, not an R-rated novel!" the system chided.

"And one more thing—you're not the ‘beloved baby'. You're the beloved baby's footstool."

"Didn't the tarot card reader say I was the luckiest person alive?" Natalie responded.

Only now did she realize—she wasn't the female lead of the book.

She had transmigrated into this book as a side character—a doomed one written to be at odds with the female lead.

Specifically, Natalie was now the biological daughter of Timothy Jones—the man who would later adopt the female lead and pamper her to no end.

Despite being his real daughter, Natalie was nothing more than an accident, a product of deception and conspiracy.

"You're five years old now. Last year, the female lead's biological father died saving Timothy. Since then, he's been secretly raising her. In just a few days, he'll officially bring her into the Jones family," the system explained.

"And from then on, she'll heal his long-buried wounds and become the daughter he adores as if she were his own flesh and blood."

The system continued, "He would dote and spoil her! A birthday celebration so grand, he might as well launch 80 nuclear bombs in her honor!"

"Great. So her birthday isn't just a special day—it's a global day of mourning," Natalie remarked. She half-heartedly ruffled her messy hair, wondering if it was naturally curly.

The system continued nagging, but she just nodded absentmindedly. "Got it. I got it."

Seeing her nonchalant attitude, the system picked its nose. "Oh, right. There's one more thing."

"What?" Natalie asked.

"You haven't eaten in a long time. If you don't get food by today, you'll starve to death," the system reminded.

She was already starving. After all that running, she felt like she might drop dead at any moment.

Her vision spun as she struggled to her feet. Through the gaps in the trees, something shimmering caught her eye—a lake.

So the Jones estate even had its own lake.

Rich people really lived in another world. Would she get fined if she peed in it?

As she wobbled closer, she thought she was hallucinating. Because why else would she see a ridiculously handsome man sitting by the lakeside pavilion?

He was dressed in loose, comfortable loungewear, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone. His shoulders were broad, his long legs lazily propped up. His hair was as dark as ink. She couldn't see his face clearly, but her instincts told her—he wouldn't be ugly.

His looks were striking, compelling people to steal another glance.

Natalie had a weakness—she could never stop staring at a good-looking person.

The man had several untouched plates of food in front of him.

She tiptoed closer, her eyes locked onto the exquisite pastries. It seemed the man had no appetite—he hadn't even taken a bite.

The man slowly lifted his gaze. A flash of deep crimson flickered in his eyes.

There it was again. Every time he closed his eyes, twisted, hateful faces would appear—dragging him into the inferno.

These people had all died by his hand, yet he felt no remorse. The wretched bloodline of the Jones family should have ended long ago.

Snapping back to reality, his eyes slid downward. A small figure had unknowingly crept up to him.

Dressed in oversized, tattered clothes, with waist-length, unkempt hair, she barely reached his knees.

Her wide, innocent emerald-green eyes stared at him, round and unblinking.

The man sat in the shadows, the golden sunlight outlining him like a celestial being.

Natalie, a 25-year-old soul trapped in a five-year-old body, shamelessly praised him, "Mister, you're so handsome." Her gaze locked onto him as if entranced.

Hearing her small, childish voice, the overly gaunt man before her showed a trace of contemplation.

Had Natalie not been on the verge of passing out from hunger, had her vision been a little clearer, she might have noticed the madness lurking in the man's eyes.

They were the same deep emerald green as hers, yet utterly devoid of clarity—like a raging storm, filled with fire and destruction, ready to drag everyone into the depths of hell.

But she didn't see it.

The man's lips moved slightly. His voice was rough and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time, tinged with a hint of amusement that the little girl failed to detect.

"Oh? How good-looking?" he asked.

Natalie straightened up, her voice loud and confident as she answered, "So good-looking that my dad would faint on the spot if he saw you!"

Chapter 2

Upon hearing those words, the man's expression visibly froze for a moment.

Completely unaware, Natalie turned her head toward the pastries on the table, licking her chapped lips.

"Mister, if you're not going to eat, can I have one?"

Seeing no reaction from the man, Natalie—so hungry her vision was blurring—pleaded pitifully, "Please, Mister! Just think of it as feeding a stray. Please, please."

Those little sounds were heartbreakingly vivid, enough to make anyone tear up.

The system twitched its electronic mouth, hesitating to speak.

The man neither cried nor laughed. His gaze was filled with mockery, tinged with disgust, as he scrutinized the little girl in front of him—the child who shared half his blood yet called him "Mister."

Apart from that wrinkled newborn all those years ago, this was the first time in a long time Timothy had laid eyes on the daughter who had been discarded the moment she was born.

He had almost forgotten—the Jones family's last remnant, aside from himself, was still alive.

The tiny child, stomach growling, swallowed her saliva but restrained herself from touching anything—clear evidence that someone had instilled discipline in her.

Whoever raised her must have had a surprisingly kind heart.

A surge of killing intent flickered in his eyes, but curiosity won out.

"You want to eat?"

Timothy's gaze was merciless, brimming with malice. His scarred yet elegant hand picked up a pastry, waving it in front of Natalie's eyes.

Then, in the next second, he tossed it over the railing.

The pastry landed in the lake.

The sound wasn't loud, but it jolted Natalie's senses back into focus.

This man was toying with her. And just like that, he wasn't handsome to Natalie anymore.

Her gaze turned icy. She was about to turn and leave when the voice in her mind rang out again.

"Leaving so soon? Haven't you realized who he is yet?"

Natalie snorted. "Why should I care? He's a bully who picks on kids. I hope his future children are born without—"

"He's Timothy. Your dear dad," the system interrupted her thoughts, a hint of mischief in its tone.

Natalie froze as if struck by lightning.

No! Without him, how would she survive?

Natalie was dumbfounded. She wondered, "His daughter, me, is already five years old, yet he still looks so young!"

The system said lazily, "He had you at 18. He's only 23 now. Of course, he's young."

Wait. Hadn't she just confidently declared that her dad would faint at the sight of Timothy?

No—maybe he didn't even know who she was!

Then, as if intentionally stirring trouble, the system said gleefully, "Friendly reminder: Your eyes are emerald green, perfectly inherited from your father's mixed bloodline. And you're basically a miniature version of him."

A surge of anger overwhelmed Natalie. Unfortunately, her current body was too young. A little emotional turmoil, and the tears came automatically.

A single teardrop slid down her cheek, hanging stubbornly on her chin, making her look utterly pitiful.

Timothy's expression suddenly went blank.

"This useless thing. Crying already?" he thought.

Impatience clouded his features. He was about to signal for his men to drag the dirty little brat away when the child suddenly moved.

"Mister, does your hand hurt?"

Her tear-filled eyes stared at his scarred hand resting on his lap. Her small face scrunched up in sympathy.

She was… pitying the man who had just humiliated her. For a brief moment, Timothy nearly laughed in disbelief.

Every single person from the Jones bloodline was a born monster.

And yet, somehow, he—a man destined for hell—had produced such a soft-hearted little thing.

Or was she just a cunning little fox pretending to be harmless?

Even the system was stunned. "Damn, you're quick on your feet," it remarked.

Whoever said Natalie was dumb clearly never met this Natalie.

"I honestly thought you'd rather walk away than put up with this," the system added.

Still sobbing, she coldly retorted in her mind, "If someone's losing, it sure as hell won't be me."

Timothy was a crucial figure in this story. In fact, her very survival depended entirely on his whims.

She had already researched everything about this man—the one who would one day spoil the female lead beyond belief.

His hatred toward her wasn't just because she was an unwanted child. The real issue was her bloodline.

The Jones family was cursed. Every single one of them was a sociopath with zero empathy, hyper-aggressive tendencies, and an empire built on blood and bones.

And Timothy loathed the very Jones blood flowing in his veins—let alone in his unwanted daughter.

If she were an adult, she would have run for her life. But right now, she was only five. Too young to even control her bodily functions, let alone her fate.

Her only option was to prove her harmlessness, to cling to her scumbag dad.

Then, once the female lead showed up and stole the spotlight, she'd quietly take the money and disappear.

If she became utterly insignificant, no one would even bother stepping on her.

Timothy said nothing. He simply stared at her with an unreadable expression. Then, without a word, he stood up and left, not sparing her another glance.

Natalie mentally grumbled about his terrible manners, but her eyes remained locked onto the pastries he had left behind.

"He's gone, which means these are up for grabs, right? I can eat now, right?" she thought.

The moment Timothy's figure disappeared completely, she wasted no time stuffing the pastries into her mouth.​​

Eating too much too quickly could kill a starving person, so Natalie forced herself to stop after a few bites—just enough to ease the gnawing pain in her stomach.

She then grabbed a large leaf, wrapped up the rest of the pastries, and tucked them away. Hygiene? Who cared? It was better to risk a stomachache than starve.

With that done, she got up and left.

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, the bodyguards watched her retreating figure before silently turning away.

One of the men hidden in the shadows with the bodyguards was Lucas Wright, Timothy's assistant. He frowned.

Since when were there children on the estate?

Which maid had the audacity to bring one in, let alone let her get near Timothy?

A hundred conspiracy theories spun in Lucas' mind before he let out a cold chuckle.

Someone must've heard Timothy had adopted a little girl and foolishly assumed he liked children.

How laughable. Did they not know what kind of man he was?

Sooner or later, Timothy would have the bodyguards kick both the maid and the child off the estate.

If not, Lucas would start calling himself by a different name. His earpiece suddenly crackled to life.

Timothy's raspy voice came through. "Five minutes. I want every detail on the nanny responsible for her."

Lucas froze. "What?"

A bodyguard walked past, patting his shoulder. "Lucas? What are you standing there for? Let's go."

Lucas' face turned bright red.

"…Call me Dumbo from now on."

…

Luck must've run out for Natalie. She had barely walked a few steps, pastries in hand, when a few maids caught her.

Louisa White—the fat, mean-spirited woman who had chased her earlier—had tattled that she'd run off.

The maids, worried she'd offend Timothy, had come looking. Now, they grabbed her roughly.

"Behave yourself!"

"Ugh, as if we don't have enough work already. You think causing trouble is fun?"

"No wonder Mr. Jones won't acknowledge you. You're just a nuisance. Louisa should've beaten you to death already."

Natalie memorized their faces and replied flatly, "If you have time to talk, you have time to work."

She then blinked innocently.

The next second, the system shattered her mood. "Friendly reminder: Enemy forces have arrived. Louisa is about to ruin your face."

Chapter 3

When Natalie was thrown back, she didn't see Louisa anywhere.

She was locked up in the same room she had first arrived in.

The room was pitch dark, with only a tiny window allowing the faintest sliver of light to seep through.

There was no furniture, save for a small, rickety bed.

The former Natalie was, after all, Timothy's biological daughter. When she was born, she hadn't lived in such miserable conditions.

However, as time passed, people at the estate gradually realized that Timothy had completely forgotten about her. Seeing that she was just a helpless child, they took advantage of the situation. Led by Louisa, the nanny, they claimed the most luxurious room in the small estate for themselves, pushing the former Natalie into what had once been the firewood storage room.

That was this place.

"What did you mean when you said Louisa was going to ruin my face? And what's with the scars?"

Natalie didn't even bother touching the moldy wooden bed that lacked a mattress. Instead, she crouched in the corner as she examined the wounds on her body.

Before, all she could think about was how hungry she was. But now that her stomach was settled, she realized her entire body was in pain. Rolling up her sleeves, she took a closer look—her skin was covered in scars, old and new, crisscrossing in a terrifying mess.

The system explained, "One of the biggest reasons the former Natalie was ultimately cast aside was because of her disfigured face.

"When the former Natalie was five, Louisa's son was caught gambling. He was thrown out of the estate and sent to prison. Furious but too afraid to lash out at the real culprits, Louisa redirected her anger toward the former Natalie.

"She deliberately poured freshly boiled water over the little girl's face.

"Though the former Natalie reacted quickly, she still ended up with half of her face severely burned. Louisa claimed the girl had been playing around and touched the kettle herself, causing the accident."

And so, the matter was brushed under the rug. Not only was the former Natalie labeled as a mischievous troublemaker, but she also spent the rest of her life drowning in self-loathing because of her scarred and hideous face. As she grew older, she became a target of endless ridicule.

In the end, an unwanted child was as good as abandoned, even if her father was still alive. No one would ever stand up for her.

Natalie finished inspecting her injuries and let out a long sigh.

"Poor kid…"

At first, she had been able to comfort herself by believing her father simply didn't love anyone. But then, the female lead arrived. And the former Natalie was forced to accept the truth—he just didn't love her.

Every insult she had ever heard—every time she was called a bastard—became an inescapable verdict, a dagger stabbing her over and over again.

Anyone would go mad.

"Since I'm in this body now, where did the former Natalie's soul go?" Natalie swiftly pulled her clothes back on and asked curiously.

The system answered, "Due to some… bugs, the former Natalie foresaw her future. She also realized she was nothing more than a disposable character in a novel. Nearly driven to the brink, we made a deal with her for the stability of this world. She's been sent away."

"She reincarnated. She won't remember this life anymore and will be born into a happy, loving family."

Natalie nodded.

Great. Now she was the one stuck cleaning up this mess.

Stretching her aching body, she rolled her eyes. "Well, sorry to disappoint you. I'm not the former Natalie."

She wasn't the type to just accept her fate.

Knowing exactly what was about to happen next, Natalie didn't panic. Instead, she even urged the system to project an image of her current self. She took one look and nearly choked.

"Holy crap, I look like a tiny beggar," she remarked.

Her naturally curly hair had been left completely unkempt, wild and tangled like a seaweed mop draped over her head. Her clothes were obviously hand-me-downs from some boy, faded and worn beyond recognition.

Taking a step forward, she pushed aside the mess of hair and looked at her reflection. "Wow. I've never seen eyes this color before."

From a distance, the color wasn't too obvious. But up close, her irises gleamed like a pair of

emerald-green ponds.

Her face was smudged with dirt, making it hard to see her true features, but the bone structure seemed decent. It was a pity she hadn't gotten a clearer look at Timothy's face earlier. Otherwise, she could have imagined what her own clean appearance might look like.

As she was lost in thought, an enraged scream suddenly echoed from outside.

"My son!"

It was Louisa's voice.

Natalie smirked. She had probably just found out that her son had been thrown out.

The whip marks on Natalie's back throbbed with pain, but her eyes burned with excitement, like a wolf ready to strike.

If Timothy were here to witness this, there was no way he'd say she wasn't his child.

Louisa, crazed with grief, suddenly remembered something and turned toward Natalie's room. Her face twisted with fury as she stormed over and kicked the door open.

However, the trembling, terrified child she expected to find huddled under the bed was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is she?"

Her tear-streaked face froze in shock. Hadn't they just thrown the brat back here?

Before she could react, Natalie—who had been hiding by the door—lunged and sank her teeth into Louisa's leg.

Louisa shrieked in agony, trying to shake her off, but Natalie was too quick. She let go and bolted out the door.

Furious, Louisa grabbed a cleaver meant for chopping meat and chased after her. "Smash her to pieces! I'll kill that little brat!!"

Years of abusing and controlling Natalie had made Louisa feel untouchable. But now, the child was rebelling. Combined with the fact that her son had been reported to the police, she lost all reason.

She didn't even care if she actually killed the girl. As long as she framed it as an accident—Natalie playing with knives and cutting herself—it would all be fine.

Natalie ran as fast as she could, deliberately leading the enraged Louisa toward the very place she had first met Timothy.

...

At that moment, Timothy had just received a full report on Louisa.

After ignoring Natalie for five years, he felt not the slightest trace of guilt.

Lucas had uncovered everything Louisa thought she had kept hidden. Timothy flipped through the thin stack of papers, his expression unreadable.

"Interesting…"

He had thought some softhearted fool had been secretly guiding Natalie. But no—her sharp tongue and

ability to assess a situation was all natural.

Reclining lazily in his chair, Timothy's emerald-green eyes darkened.

Was she a naïve little lamb? Or a wolf in sheep's clothing?

His gaze suddenly fell on his fingers—the very ones Natalie had noticed earlier.

Those scars, each one etched into his skin, were remnants of the past. Back then, the young heiress of the Jones family, Selina Jones, had him chained like an animal with a dog leash, ordering her people to carve into his flesh just for her amusement.

With every cut, the 11-year-old Timothy had to grovel, uttering the words, "Thank you, Ms. Jones."

Those wounds had once served as a constant, brutal reminder of the Jones family's sins. Everything and everyone tied to that family was utterly repulsive—including himself.

Timothy's eyes darkened as he recalled Natalie, foolishly staring at the pastries with an eager gulp.

If she was just a naive, harmless girl, he'd let her live.

Yet, if she carried the filthy blood of the Jones family's twisted animals...

His gaze turned ice-cold, like a frozen abyss shimmering with deadly intent.

"Mr. Jones."

Lucas approached cautiously, his steps deliberately light. It wasn't out of kindness—Timothy's chronic insomnia had made him dangerously sensitive to noise. Even the slightest disturbance could set him off.

"Speak."

Timothy didn't lift his head, his attention still fixed on the documents in his hands.

"A servant was caught gambling. We've already contacted the police, but he managed to slip away when the guards weren't paying attention. He was finally apprehended after stealing the gold pendant from Jumbo's collar."

Jumbo—the dog Timothy raised.

The name was simple. The dog had... well, huge testicles.

Of course, that wasn't the point. The real coincidence was this—the thief who had stolen Jumbo's gold pendant turned out to be the son of Natalie's nanny.

Lucas hesitated, unsure if he should mention this part, but Timothy already knew.

And along the way, he just so happened to stumble upon a certain little brat being relentlessly chased down.

Chapter 4

Natalie led Louisa toward the lake—not because she was hoping to run into Timothy.

A woman wielding a cleaver, running around like a lunatic, would be seen as a dangerous threat no matter her intentions. The patrolling guards would take her down sooner or later.

Natalie wasn’t counting on luck to bring Timothy to her rescue. Even if she did run into him, he probably wouldn’t save her.

If anything, he might even clap his hands and cheer Louisa on.

After all, according to the system, Natalie knew exactly what kind of ruthless man her scumbag father was.

An illegitimate child, abandoned to survive in the most lawless, savage city. He had drunk filthy water, eaten rats, and barely made it through childhood. At ten, he was brought back to the Jones family—only to endure relentless torment. For seven years, he swallowed his pride and bore every humiliation.

Until one night, at 17, he wiped out every single Jones family member in a single, bloody sweep and claimed the top spot for himself.

The first thing he did after seizing power? He skinned his own father alive, turned the skin into a skirt, and forced his stepmother to wear it while dancing the samba.

If she were just an ordinary person hearing this story, she’d probably yell, “Holy shit!”

Even novels wouldn’t dare write something this insane.

But in reality? This man couldn’t be her dad… right?

The next second, like a cannonball, she nearly crashed into his leg. Unfortunately, before she could make contact, a bodyguard coldly blocked her.

Natalie tilted her head up, and the moment she saw the man before her, her eyes flickered. Her original plan shifted instantly.

A new idea took root.

“Mister…”

She looked up at him in disbelief, panting, her wide emerald-green eyes brimming with a joy too intense to ignore.

This time, Timothy wasn’t standing against the light.

For the first time, she saw his face clearly.

Timothy was of mixed-race. His mother’s lineage was evident in his deep emerald-green eyes. His features were sharp, his cheekbones defined.

He was far from the wicked, sinister image she had imagined—dressed in a suit, he would look exactly like a nobleman, elegant and refined. And as fate would have it, their second encounter was once again by the lake.

“Mister, you came back?”

Natalie glanced over her shoulder, her small, thin face making her large eyes seem even bigger. Panic and sorrow swirled in them, emotions laid bare.

Lucas stiffened at the sight. Those eyes… They were identical to Timothy’s.

Back then, it was precisely because of those eyes that Timothy had been relentlessly called a bastard.

Hearing Natalie call Timothy "Mister", Lucas couldn’t help but twitch.

But Timothy? He accepted this little child—who carried half his genes—calling him “Mister” with zero hesitation.

"Am I not allowed to come back?" Timothy asked. He lowered his gaze, staring straight at Natalie, his lips curving into a slow, chilling smile.

Natalie shook her head. "No reason… Mister…" She kept looking over her shoulder, as if searching for something.

Timothy didn’t miss that detail. Instead, he feigned ignorance. "What are you looking for?"

He already knew Louisa was chasing this little brat with a cleaver. In fact, he even suspected this meeting wasn’t a coincidence at all.

He guessed that Natalie already knew who he was—and now, she was about to ‘subtly’ seek his help.

"I'm playing a game with Mom," Natalie answered calmly.

The moment the words left her lips, the temperature around them seemed to drop.

Even the system was confused.

Timothy, who had been wearing a fake smile just moments ago, suddenly lost all warmth in his expression.

“Who is your mom?” he asked.

Natalie sensed his shift in mood but still politely answered, "Mom is my mom, the only person who's always been by my side."

She fidgeted nervously and added, "It just… hurts a little… I can't let her catch me."

Lucas' expression turned complicated. Did this little girl not know that Louisa was trying to kill her?

He suddenly realized—Natalie was referring to that woman—her nanny, Louisa.

A child who had been raised by a monstrous nanny wouldn’t know what normal life was like. With no peers to compare to, she had instinctively regarded Louisa as family.

Or maybe, Louisa had deliberately made her call her ‘Mom’ just to be disgusting. Maybe, in her innocent mind, even the nanny’s brutality had been twisted into “just a game”.

Lucas looked at those clear, bright emerald-green eyes—identical to Timothy’s—feeling an unfamiliar ache in his chest. And if he understood it, then Timothy naturally did as well.

"If she catches you and stabs you… that's a game?" Timothy asked blankly, not bothering to hide the fact that he already knew what was going on.

Natalie hesitated. She was clearly afraid of pain. But after a moment, she nodded.

Timothy thought, "What an idiot."

Then, he heard her continue with pure, selfless devotion, "It's okay. Mom's butt is pregnant. I don't blame her."

She was referring to Louisa's massive behind.

Timothy locked eyes with the little girl, searching for any trace of sarcasm. There was none. She was dead serious.

Timothy narrowed his eyes, then suddenly let out a low chuckle. "What a kind and compassionate child you are."

He emphasized the words so heavily that Natalie’s skin prickled with goosebumps.

"Damn it, this guy is hard to fool," she thought.

How could he not believe her? She was just a five-year-old child! How could she possibly have bad intentions?

"You know," Timothy said lightly, "I hate being lied to."

He crooked a finger at Natalie, the way one would beckon a dog. Bracing herself, she ran over, face full of innocent confusion—as if completely unaware of the danger in front of her.

Then, from behind Timothy, a man was dragged forward. Bound, covered in blood.

The man wasn’t dead—he whimpered in pain. And the next second, he was kicked straight into the lake.

The sound was much louder than the pastries falling in earlier, loud enough that Natalie paled.

Timothy didn’t spare the drowning man a single glance. Instead, his focus remained on Natalie, watching her intently, intrigued.

With a lazy smirk, he asked, "What did you see?"

Natalie pursed her lips.

Under Timothy’s increasingly dangerous gaze, she opened her mouth and answered with childlike innocence, "Water. The source of life that makes people pee a lot."

Chapter 5

The system had repeatedly emphasized that Timothy loathed the original Jones family members. He found even himself disgusting—let alone a child who shared his bloodline.

Although the original novel didn’t specify what Timothy had endured in his youth, it was merely summarized with the words "utter humiliation". Natalie could guess that most of those whom he had killed weren’t exactly innocent.

She knew exactly what kind of persona to adopt to cling to his thigh—a naive and sweet girl.

A role that seemed easy to play but required careful control—too much, and she’d come off as an idiot.

Natalie clapped her hands together. "Since I can’t act brainless, I’ll just be... abstract!" she thought. And so, there was Natalie—calmly discussing the philosophy of urination with a straight face.

"Are you sure this isn’t just your true nature?" the system remarked.

After a brief silence, unexpectedly, the first to burst into laughter was none other than Timothy himself.

He tilted his head, his usually sharp brows and eyes softened in amusement. Even with tears in the corners of his eyes, his laughter was stunningly captivating, not that anyone else in the room dared to look at him directly.

“Bring her in.”

As the laughter faded, the emotion in Timothy’s eyes remained, but his voice was laced with icy coldness.

Natalie, muttering to herself about his low tolerance for humor, turned her gaze to the person being dragged into the room—Louisa.

The moment Louisa had stepped out of the small building with a cleaver in hand, she had been caught. The security team had mobilized in full force to subdue her.

Now, as she was brought in, she caught sight of her son’s blood-soaked body being tossed into the lake.

Her legs gave out, and she had to be dragged forward. Gone was the fierce woman chasing Natalie with a cleaver just moments ago.

When her gaze met Natalie’s—the fear in her eyes deepened. She couldn’t comprehend how, after just a brief moment of inattention, Natalie had somehow ended up by Timothy’s side.

Then came the overwhelming regret. But it wasn’t regret for mistreating Natalie—it was for not killing her sooner.

Natalie’s reaction, however, was unexpected. Her eyes lit up upon seeing Louisa, but then she hesitated, appearing timid. She wanted to step forward but didn’t dare to.

“Why aren’t you calling for your mother?” Timothy observed her reaction, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Natalie mumbled softly, “She doesn’t like it when I call her that...”

Louisa shuddered at their exchange. “You little bastard! What nonsense are you spouting?” she yelled.

She knew that no matter how much Timothy detested this wretched child, he would never tolerate anyone else assuming the role of Natalie’s mother.

After all, whether he acknowledged it or not, Natalie was still his flesh and blood.

“Who are you calling a bastard?” Lucas snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Calling her that in private was one thing, but shouting it in front of Timothy? Did she have a death wish?

Louisa flinched at his roar, but when she recalled the sight of her son being thrown into the lake, her heart twisted in agony.

That was her child, the only heir of their family!

Her eyes burned red with hatred. With the desperation of someone who had nothing left to lose, she screamed, “So what if I call her a bastard?! My son is dead! I have nothing left!”

“A wretched thing who slaughtered his own family—of course, his spawn is a bastard! Am I wrong? Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! You’re nothing but a filthy, cursed bastard!”

Everyone’s expressions shifted. Regardless of their private thoughts, uttering such words in front of Timothy was sheer insanity.

Years of lording over a secluded manor had clearly made Louisa forget just how terrifying Timothy truly was.

Yet, rather than getting angry at the vile insults, Timothy’s smile only deepened, his amusement growing.

But before he could respond, Natalie spoke first. “I’m a bastard too! Great! Mister, we’re bastards together!”

As if oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Natalie beamed at Timothy, as though it were a badge of honor to share this trait with him.

She pointed at herself, then at Timothy.

“My eyes are the color of beer bottles. Mister’s are too. I’m a bastard. Mister’s a bastard too. From now on, Mister is the big bastard, and I’m the little bastard.”

Everyone was rendered speechless. While her words were innocent, the implications weren't.

Then again, considering Natalie had grown up without proper guidance, she probably had no idea how insulting that word was.

She simply thought she had found someone like her, never considering what it truly meant.

Lucas initially believed Timothy would snap, perhaps even order him to drag Natalie away immediately. But unexpectedly, Timothy didn’t get angry. Then, under everyone’s stunned gazes, he nodded.

“You’re right. We’re both bastards,” he said.

Lucas and the others wore expressions of pure horror, as if they’d just been marked for elimination. Meanwhile, Natalie simply grinned at Timothy, utterly fearless.

Louisa, on the other hand, had a filthy sock shoved into her mouth, her eyes bulging as she let out muffled shrieks.

Just then, two uniformed officers entered, dragging a man who had been beaten black and blue, his clothes in tatters from bite marks. The man whimpered, frantically pleading that he hadn’t been gambling.

When Louisa saw him, she was struck dumb.

The man also saw Louisa, but rather than expressing concern for her condition, his first words were, “Mom! Do something! I was just playing around with some money! How is that gambling?”

There was even resentment in his tone, as if blaming her for being useless.

One of the officers turned to Timothy and greeted him respectfully before addressing Louisa.

“Mr. Jones had her brought in as well. Perfect timing—she’ll be arrested along with him.” He gestured, and the officers immediately moved in, snapping handcuffs onto Louisa’s wrists.

She was in complete shock. Just moments ago, she had watched her son be thrown into the lake, so how was he suddenly here, alive?

She turned to Timothy in disbelief, only to find him leisurely sipping a drink, looking utterly pleased with himself.

Lucas smirked and said to Louisa, “What are you looking at? Timothy is a law-abiding citizen.”

The officers played along and nodded. “Louisa, you’ve been reported for embezzlement and misappropriation of your employer’s assets. You’re under arrest.”

Natalie watched Louisa being taken away with a hint of disappointment. "What? She’s arrested just like that? I still had more tricks up my sleeve!" she thought.

Well, at least she was safe from disfigurement now. Just as she was thinking that, Timothy stood up.

She immediately turned to him. “Mister, where’s Mommy going?” Her innocent, clueless expression softened hearts.

Timothy, clearly not in the mood to explain, replied dismissively, “She’s going to give birth from her butt.”

He glanced at Natalie, as if tempted to pinch her face—only to be repelled by how dirty she was. “If you dare call her ‘Mom’ again, I’ll throw you into the lake to feed the fish.”

Instead of fear, Natalie simply beamed at him with innocent obedience. “Okay, Mister.”

“But that means I won’t have a mom anymore... Mister, can you be my mom?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“My butt can’t get pregnant,” he replied nonchalantly.

Natalie pouted in disappointment. As she watched Timothy turn to leave, she hesitated before whispering, “Will I ever see you again, Mister?”

Timothy didn’t answer. He didn’t even look back.

There was no place for fools by his side. He was already considering having someone send her far, far away.

“Oh... okay. Then, dear Mister, I wish you…”

Lucas thought, "Not bad. She really is Timothy’s child. No one taught her, yet she instinctively knows how to bid people farewell with well wishes."

However, before Lucas could sing more praises for Natalie, she said, “I wish you the ability to poop on the heads of people you hate, just like a bird.”

Once again, there was no doubt about it. She was definitely Timothy’s child—born to make people suffer.