Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 178: The only worthwhile thing was fathering Sinclair.

Chapter 178: The only worthwhile thing was fathering Sinclair.

The Luther Family Ancestral Residence.

"Disgraceful!"

Grandpa Luther hurled the photographs at Jonathan, his piercing eyes blazing with fury.

"Explain yourself!

Who is this woman?!"

The photos captured intimate moments—Jonathan embracing Tamara, comforting her, even feeding her.

To an outsider, they could easily be mistaken for a devoted couple.

Uncle Carlos kept his head bowed, suppressing a heavy sigh.

At last, Jonathan understood why his father had summoned him home in such haste.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Which reckless media outlet dared to stalk and photograph him?

They had a death wish!

"Father, please let me explain—"

"With evidence staring you in the face, what explanation could possibly suffice?"

Grandpa Luther’s face darkened as he violently swept a teacup off the table, sending it shattering to the floor.

"Do you take me for a senile old fool, easily deceived by your lies?"

The porcelain teacup shattered, spraying hot tea and ceramic shards onto Jonathan’s clothes, soaking his trousers.

He looked utterly disheveled.

Jonathan frowned but didn’t dare say a word.

"For years now, I’ve given up expecting you to amount to anything or shoulder the responsibilities of the Luther Family," Grandpa Luther said, his voice icy as he glared at him.

"All I hoped was that you’d live a decent, stable life—like a proper human being."

"And now, you can’t even manage that?!"

Not even fit to be called a man.

The words cut deep.

"Father," Jonathan replied, his face darkening.

He pressed his lips together before explaining, "I went to take care of Tamara... because of Margaret."

"For her?"

Grandpa Luther narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Jonathan recounted, in brief, how Margaret had sent someone to kill Tamara.

He dragged Margaret into the conversation at this moment, clearly trying to shift blame and hoping the old man would understand his predicament.

"Dad, I stayed by Tamara’s side mainly because I was afraid Margaret wouldn’t give up.

What if she sends someone again to—"

"Shut your mouth!!"

Before he could finish, Grandpa Luther had already risen from the sofa, striding over to Jonathan with an aura of icy fury.

SMACK!

The sharp sound of a slap cut off Jonathan’s words.

The old man had put his full strength into that strike, so much so that his own body swayed unsteadily from the force.

Uncle Carlos’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

He rushed forward in alarm to steady the old man.

"Sir, are you all right?"

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the old master had seemed weaker these past couple of days.

I’ll have to find time to ask the young mistress to check on him soon.

Meanwhile, Jonathan pressed a hand to his stinging cheek, his expression dark and stormy, barely containing the anger simmering in his eyes.

"Dad, what was that for?!"

"Twenty-some years ago, you said the exact same thing," the old man retorted, waving him off dismissively, his sharp gaze still locked onto Jonathan like a blade.

"Can’t you see it even now?

All these problems stem from your fickle and indecisive nature!"

His voice was icy, dripping with disdain.

"God knows what sins your mother and I committed to be burdened with such an ungrateful, troublesome son!"

"I—" Jonathan’s face twisted with anger, but a shred of remaining self-control made him press his lips tightly together, swallowing whatever retort had risen to his tongue.

"Fine. Whatever you say."

Grandpa Luther could tell his words still hadn’t gotten through to Jonathan.

His eyes darkened with profound disappointment, and he opened his mouth to speak again.

Just then, a servant hurried into the room.

"Grandpa,"

A servant hurried in, bowing slightly.

"Mr. Tyler and Miss Sandra have arrived."

"Dad—"

Jonathan covered his cheek, his pleading gaze fixed on his father.

The message was clear—no matter what, he couldn’t afford to lose face in front of his son and future daughter-in-law.

"What happened over twenty years ago must never repeat itself.

You have three days to make sure this woman leaves the capital,"

Grandpa Luther settled back into his seat, his eyes weary yet icy as they bore into Jonathan.

"Otherwise, I’ll step in and handle it myself."

Knowing his father’s temper all too well, Jonathan swallowed his reluctance and nodded stiffly.

"...Understood."

The old man turned away dismissively, shifting his attention to Uncle Carlos.

"Go and bring them in.

Proper courtesy must be observed." Regardless of the motives behind this engagement, appearances had to be maintained.

"Yes," Uncle Carlos nodded and turned to leave.

Grandpa Luther leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes wearily, completely ignoring Jonathan.

Perhaps it was the weight of recent worries, but he found himself exhausted more often than not—a first in all these years.

It seemed age had finally caught up with him.

Jonathan understood the unspoken dismissal.

Pressing his lips together, he stepped out.

Just outside the door, he called out to Uncle Carlos.

"Remember—not a word of what happened inside gets out to anyone."

He wasn’t just referring to the matter with Tamara, but also the fact that he’d been struck.

After all, aside from Grandpa and himself, only Uncle Carlos had witnessed it.

Uncle Carlos’s gaze lingered meaningfully on the vivid handprint still reddening Jonathan’s cheek before nodding slowly.

"Rest assured, my lips are sealed."

He wouldn’t say a word.

But if others figured it out on their own—well, that was hardly his fault.

Sure enough, the passing servants couldn’t help but lower their heads knowingly when they saw Jonathan’s swollen, palm-printed cheek, suppressing smirks in their hearts.

*Mr. Jonathan must have angered grandpa again!*

Jonathan paid no attention to the odd looks from those around him.

His mind was entirely occupied with tracking down the media outlet that had secretly photographed him and figuring out how to deal with Tamara.

Just then, several figures approached from the opposite direction.

Tyler knew that Jonathan’s presence here meant his mother’s plan had worked.

But outwardly, he maintained a perfectly clueless expression.

"Dad, what brings you here?"

Hearing the voice, Jonathan looked up and flashed a warm, fatherly smile at the two, as if nothing had happened.

"I came to discuss some company matters with your grandfather."

The words, paired with his grotesquely swollen cheek, made the whole scene absurdly comical.

Tyler immediately noticed the glaring handprint on his face, his expression turning complicated.

*Discussing company affairs—with his face?*

Sandra curled her lips into a mocking sneer.

But remembering they were in the Luther residence, with Uncle Carlos standing nearby, she ultimately bit back her words and stayed silent.

"It’s getting late," Jonathan had no patience to linger in conversation with the two of them.

His tone remained gentle as he spoke.

"Your father is waiting inside.

You should head in now."

He glanced at his wristwatch.

"There’s still some business at the company. I’ll take my leave first."

With that, Jonathan offered them a faint smile before turning to walk away.

Tyler opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, no words came out.

"Aside from his looks, your father is nothing like a true heir of the Luther Family," Sandra muttered under her breath, her voice laced with icy disdain as she watched Jonathan disappear into the distance.

She turned to Tyler with a cold smirk.

"The only worthwhile thing he’s ever done in his life is fathering someone like Sinclair."

The only worthwhile thing—fathering Sinclair?

Then what about him?

Tyler’s expression darkened, his eyes turning frosty.

"And what about your father?

What’s *his* greatest accomplishment?"

The mention of Mr. Porter struck a nerve. Sandra’s smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a flicker of irritation.

She shot Tyler a sharp glare before striding ahead without another word.