At the gate of the Whitmore clan’s manor in the Dragon Realm, the old master’s sixtieth birthday banquet was in full swing.

The entrance was half-open, and the place was packed. Cars came and went, guests in formal wear lined up one after another, and the butler stood at the front with a row of bodyguards, checking every invitation with extra care.

It was July, hot enough to make people question their life choices. There was no AC at the gate, only a thick wave of heat rolling through the crowd. The air felt sticky, heavy, and annoying.

The butler had just shooed away two people trying to sneak in. He was wiping sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief when someone suddenly tugged at his pant leg.

He looked down.

Only then did he notice a tiny child standing by his feet.

She had her hair tied into a little bun, wore a dirty imitation Tang-style dress, and carried a pink cloth crossbody bag around her waist. Her face was smudged with dust, and she looked barely three years old.

Then she looked up at him with big bright eyes and asked in a soft, milky little voice, “Hello, is this Gerald Whitmore’s house?”

“Yes, it is.” The butler smiled kindly at first. “Whose child are you, little one? You should stay close to your parents. And you can’t call our old master by name, okay? You should call him Grandpa Whitmore.”

The little girl blinked. “I can’t call him Grandpa. That would mess up the seniority.”

She spoke with complete seriousness, her little face earnest and innocent.

“I’m his grandaunt, Clara Whitmore. Today is Gerald Whitmore’s sixtieth birthday. My daddy asked me to come celebrate for him, but I don’t have an invitation. Can you help me pass along a message?”

The smile on the butler’s face instantly vanished.

A child not even one meter tall was claiming to be Old Master Whitmore’s grandaunt?

What kind of joke was this?

The old master had never mentioned having some ridiculously young collateral relative with such a high seniority.

The butler’s voice cooled at once. “Little girl, don’t go around randomly claiming kinship. No invitation, no entry. Hurry up and leave.”

The Whitmore clan was the richest family in the Dragon Realm. Countless people wanted to get close to them. But using a child to pull a stunt during a banquet like this? That was seriously too much.

He immediately instructed the bodyguards, “Patrol more carefully. Don’t let anyone exploit a loophole.”

Meanwhile, Clara stood there at his feet, little brows scrunched together, looking utterly wronged.

But she really was Gerald Whitmore’s grandaunt.

Daddy and Mommy had said so themselves.

It was written in the family genealogy, and she even had the ancestral jade pendant to prove it.

Clara quickly reached into her little bag, feeling around for the jade pendant and the genealogy booklet. Just as she was about to take them out and hand them over, someone shoved her.

She stumbled, nearly fell, then barely steadied herself.

Turning her head, she saw the culprit—a mean-looking little boy glaring at her.

“Little beggar,” he snapped. “Don’t stand in front of my house.”

Clara frowned and was just about to answer when a finely dressed woman walked up behind the boy.

The woman pulled him back and scolded in disgust, “Why did you touch her? She’s filthy. What if she has something contagious?”

As she spoke, she handed her invitation to the butler.

“You people better keep your eyes open. Don’t let some dirty child like this mix into the banquet.”

The butler glanced at the invitation, and his entire attitude sharpened immediately.

The woman in front of him was Meredith Linden, the older sister of the eldest young master’s girlfriend. In the future, she would likely become related to the Whitmore clan by marriage.

So he bowed slightly and said respectfully, “Please rest assured. I definitely won’t let an unidentified child in.”

Clara watched his expression change so fast it was almost magical.

She looked at the mother and son, clearly not actual members of the Whitmore family, and asked in confusion, “But you’re not part of the Whitmore family either. Why can’t Clara go in?”

Meredith hadn’t expected this dirty little child to talk back.

She sneered, “Little beggar, let me be blunt. My sister is about to marry the Whitmore family’s eldest son. That makes me the future sister-in-law of this family. Keeping out one little beggar like you? Easy.”

The boy she was holding by the hand got even more smug. He stuck out his tongue and made a face.

“Little beggar, can’t get in, nyah nyah.”

Clara got a little mad. “I can get in!”

The boy instantly blew up at that. He yanked free of Meredith’s hand and raised his arm to slap Clara across the face.

Before his hand could land, Clara smacked him right back.

Smack.

The sharp sound startled everyone nearby.

The boy grabbed his hand and burst into loud sobs.

Meredith was furious. “You little beggar, are you asking to die? Throw her out right now!”

“What’s going on at my house gate?”

A young man’s voice suddenly cut through Meredith’s shrill yelling.

The voice was low and pleasant, the kind that made people look over without thinking.

Clara turned her head curiously.

The man walking over wore sunglasses and a mask, so his face couldn’t be seen at all.

But the butler’s expression changed at once. He hurried forward, smiling, and bowed.

“Mr. Whitmore, you’re back.”

The moment Clara heard that title, her eyes lit up and she smiled.

Daddy had told her Gerald Whitmore had seven sons.

So this tall man must be the seventh one, Colton Whitmore.

That meant he was her grandnephew.

“Hello, grandnephew.”

Since it was their first meeting, and since she knew her grandnephew definitely didn’t know who she was, Clara took the initiative to greet him politely, doing her best to act like a generous and kind elder.

Colton Whitmore froze.

He looked down.

Only then did he notice the tiny child by his feet.

Her face was a little dirty, but it didn’t hide how delicate and adorable her features were. Her eyes were big and dark, her lashes absurdly long, and there was a clean, guileless innocence in them that belonged only to very young children.

His interest was instantly piqued.

He took off his sunglasses and mask, revealing a face so good-looking it was almost unfair.

Lifting a brow, he asked, “What did you just call me?”

“Grandnephew.” Clara answered seriously. “Your daddy is Gerald Whitmore, and I’m your grandaunt. I came to celebrate your daddy’s birthday.”

As she spoke, she handed him the genealogy booklet she had taken out.

“Look. This is my family’s copy of the genealogy.”

Colton was speechless.

Then he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Uh... little one, are you out of your mind?”

Grandaunt?

That was several generations apart.

He had just started to think about telling the butler to check where this weird little kid had come from when she dug something else out of her bag.

A jade pendant.

The second he saw it, his expression changed.

That pendant was insanely familiar.

His father kept one exactly like it in the family safe as if it were some priceless treasure. He always said it was a symbol of the Whitmore family. He had even copied the design and had one carved for each of the seven brothers, though none of them ever liked wearing theirs.

And on top of that, his dad was always muttering weird stuff at home—saying that if their grand-uncle hadn’t married into his wife’s family and disappeared from the world with her, then they could’ve asked him to consecrate the jade and ward off evil.

If this little dumpling had the pendant...

Could what she said actually be true?

But... but no matter how cute she was, she couldn’t really be his grandaunt, right?

That was way too absurd.

Colton could not accept this. Not even a little.

Clara, seeing that he had recognized the jade pendant, said in her sweet baby voice, “See? Clara’s not crazy. You really are Clara’s grandnephew.”

Meredith listened from the side, then jumped in with the tone of some overly familiar elder.

“I’m telling you, Colton, kids this filthy often have something wrong with their heads. Don’t get scammed.”

Every word dripped with contempt toward Clara.

Colton turned his head and fired back without any politeness, “What do you mean, Colton? Back off. We’re not close.”

Then he looked at Clara again.

“Ignore her. Clara, right? Come in with me first. We’ll go find my dad, and I’ll have him check whether these things are real.”

Clara nodded hard.

As long as she could get in, it was fine.

Then she could finish the task Daddy gave her and go back to the mountain to find Daddy and Mommy.

She closed her little bag carefully.

Right then, Meredith’s voice rang out again.

“Colton, what kind of tone is that? Based on our relationship, you should be calling me sister-in-law along with your brother.”

By now Colton had already straightened up. The disgust on his face didn’t even bother hiding itself anymore.

“What sister-in-law? I don’t know how your sister Rosanna Linden managed to charm my big brother, but I, Colton Whitmore, am not acknowledging you people as relatives.”

His eldest brother had been sharp his whole life. Seriously, he had no idea how that man had fallen for a woman like Rosanna Linden. And today, of all days, he was even planning to announce their engagement.

That woman looked exactly like the fake innocent type. Total white-lotus vibes. He genuinely couldn’t understand how his brother had gotten played.

Even worse, his parents had basically said, Since our thirty-year-old eldest son is finally willing to marry, who cares about the girl’s background or personality? As long as she gives us a granddaughter in the future, it’s all good.

Were the two elders so desperate for a granddaughter that they’d gone a little delulu?

Was having a little girl really that amazing?

They’d had seven sons and not one daughter, and now they were pushing all of them to marry early just so they could hold a granddaughter?

As Colton silently roasted his parents in his head, he lowered his gaze and gestured for Clara to walk inside with him. Then he lifted his foot and walked around Meredith without sparing her another glance.

Meredith watched him take Clara into the manor.

In that instant, her face twisted.

By what right was Colton Whitmore treating her like that?

He was nothing more than some third-rate celebrity in the entertainment industry.

Just wait until her sister took control of the Whitmore family.

When that happened, she’d make Colton kneel and lick her shoes.

Then she’d see how arrogant he could still be.