Chapter 69: Great-Grandfather
When Franklin Whitman arrived at Golden Crest Manor, he called Caroline Whitman.
He told her he was there to pick up Ryan and take him back to the old family home.
"Huh? You’re at Golden Crest Manor to pick up Ryan?"
Caroline Whitman was stunned when she got the call.
’How does Dad know about Golden Crest Manor?’
Then it hit her. That little rascal Ryan must have called Franklin himself.
She glanced at the time. It was only ten in the morning, and the little guy was already getting restless.
As it happened, Franklin had the day off.
Still, she never would have imagined the little guy would think to call Franklin.
On second thought, considering the little guy had all the elders’ numbers memorized, it was a blessing he hadn’t called Adrian Grant’s parents.
On the other end of the line, Franklin Whitman was about to ask her for the building’s entry code when a resident happened to walk out. He quickly reached out to hold the door, slipped inside, and pressed the elevator button. While waiting, he said:
"Yeah, I’m here at Golden Crest Manor. And I have to say, this complex is pretty nice. Oh, right, make sure you let his parents know I’ve picked up the kid. We don’t want them panicking when they can’t find him."
"And just so you know, Ryan called me himself. It wasn’t the other way around. He said he was bored to death at home, so I got worried and decided to come check on him."
Franklin Whitman emphasized again.
What could Caroline Whitman say at this point? She couldn’t just rush back and tell him, ’The boy’s parents will be home any minute, so you don’t need to pick him up.’
If she did that, Franklin would definitely wait until the child’s *real* parents got back before he’d even consider leaving.
Faced with this surprise visit, Caroline was helpless. She could only hang up quickly and immediately call Miss King.
"Ma’am, what is it?"
"My dad is coming over to pick up the child. When he gets there, do not reveal that Adrian Grant and I are living here."
Miss King had been working for them for over two months, so she basically understood the situation. She replied, "Understood, Ma’am. Do you have any other instructions?"
"Could you please put Ryan on the phone?"
Hearing this, Miss King took the phone to the playroom, went to Ryan Grant’s side, and said quickly, "Young Master, your mother is on the phone for you."
Ryan Grant reached out a chubby little hand and took the phone. "Mommy? What’s up?"
Caroline Whitman: "What’s up? Did you or did you not call Grandpa and ask him to come pick you up?"
Ryan Grant, completely unabashed, replied, "You both went to work today, so I had to call Grandpa."
"Mommy, I’m sorry. I’ll tell Grandpa to go back home." The sweet, childlike voice came through the phone, and Caroline’s anger instantly vanished.
The little guy knew exactly how to handle adults. His timely apology made it impossible to stay angry, even making her want to laugh in exasperation.
"Alright, alright. You only called Grandpa, right? You didn’t call anyone else?" Caroline asked, concerned.
"Nope, I only called Grandpa."
’I wanted to call Grandpa on Dad’s side, but I was afraid Mommy and Daddy would get mad.’
"Okay. Just like last time, if Daddy and I come to pick you up tonight, remember to call us godmother and godfather."
"Okay, I know."
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Ryan Grant said excitedly, "Mommy, I can’t talk anymore! Grandpa’s here!"
Caroline still wanted to say more, but the little guy hung up faster than anyone.
Standing outside the door was a middle-aged man with a beer belly and several gold and jade rings on his fingers. He looked fierce and menacing, but his face was wreathed in a broad, cheerful smile.
Ryan Grant wasn’t scared at all. Instead, his little face lit up as he called out happily, "Grandpa, you’re here!"
This was the first time Miss King had seen Franklin Whitman. Seeing him looking like a mix between a nouveau riche and a mob boss, she couldn’t help but be startled.
’It’s hard to believe this is the missus’s father. He’s so... imposing.’
She first confirmed his identity. "You must be Ryan’s grandfather, Mr. Whitman, is that right?"
"Yes, yes, that’s me. I’m here to pick up the kid, hehe. My daughter, Caroline Whitman, she told you I was coming, right?"
"Ms. Whitman has already informed me," Miss King said with a slight smile.
Franklin Whitman explained again, "The kid was bored at home and asked me to come play with him. Don’t you worry, I’ll definitely bring my precious Ryan back later."
"Thank you for taking the trouble, sir."
As Franklin Whitman bent down to pick up the child, he casually glanced inside. The place looked quite homey, like someone was actually living there.
Seeing that Miss King was still standing at the door, he didn’t linger. He picked up the child, said another goodbye to her, and headed for the elevator.
"You’re a clever one, Tiny. You knew to call me to take you out when you were bored. But how did you know I had the day off today? Heh, even if Grandpa was at the office, I would have come to get you."
"Mommy and Daddy have to work. They can only play with me tomorrow."
"Oh? So you can’t even stand being cooped up for one day?" Franklin Whitman teased. "But I guess that makes sense. During those few days you stayed with me, Grandpa took you out to play every day. I figured you wouldn’t be able to handle being bored at home all by yourself."
At this, he laughed heartily with a pleased look on his face.
"How about Grandpa takes you to meet someone in a bit?"
"Who?" Ryan Grant’s clear, dark eyes blinked with curiosity.
"The father of the Mr. Grant I took you to see the other day."
As soon as Ryan Grant heard this, he knew who it was. "I know! It’s Great-Grandpa!"
"Well, look at you! You’ve got all these family relations figured out. Looks like school wasn’t a waste of time after all."
"I was actually supposed to play chess with him. I was about to get in the car when you called. What a coincidence, huh? And that old man even said you could come along. Don’t you dare make me lose face now. I already told him your chess skills are way better than mine."
Franklin Whitman said this as he lifted the child into the car. The driver started the engine and headed toward the suburbs.
「Serene Garden Villa.」
This was the place Franklin Whitman had arranged to meet.
Of course he couldn’t have Mr. Grant come to his house to play chess. That was just something he’d blurted out at the time.
The villa grounds were elegant and offered good privacy. There were also places for a child to play, so there were no worries about his safety. It was the best choice.
Once inside the villa complex, the car drove a little further before finally stopping in front of a private courtyard.
This was the spot he had reserved.
Franklin Whitman got out of the car holding the child and smiled. "You’ve never been here before, have you?"
"I have. Mommy and Daddy brought me here before."
"Even better. You know your way around, so you’ll know where the fun spots are."
After entering the courtyard, they passed several open private rooms. Finally, Franklin Whitman and Tiny stopped in front of a room with its wooden door tightly shut.
He knocked, then pushed the sliding door open. A graceful melody immediately flowed out from the private room.
"Old friend, I’m here!"
Gavin Grant currently had his back to the door, facing the courtyard in front. Hearing the voice, he snorted. "You rascal. It’s getting harder and harder to get you to come out. And you’re even late today. If it were anyone else, I would have chewed them out by now."
"You know how it is. I was picking up my grandson, got delayed," Franklin Whitman said with a carefree laugh.
"Great-Grandpa."
Ryan Grant, who had been trailing behind Franklin Whitman’s legs, peeked out. Seeing the familiar back, his face broke into a wide grin, and he ran inside, shouting happily.
’Great... Great-Grandpa?’
Before Gavin Grant could turn around to see what was going on, a small child suddenly appeared right in front of him.
A pair of refined, almond-shaped eyes on a fair, tender little face filled his vision, making him tremble.
The face of Adrian Grant flashed through his mind, giving him a start.
’Little Adrian?’
’Wait.’
’This couldn’t be Adrian Grant’s son, could it?’