It was already eight o'clock, and Jonathan hadn't returned. The food was getting cold, so Hayden said, "Let's not wait for him. Let's eat."

He added, "Don't wait for that rascal. As the eldest grandson, he should have better manners. Is he doing this on purpose?" He muttered inwardly, "When Jonathan gets back, I'll teach him a lesson!"

Finally, past eight-thirty, Jonathan returned, Benny helping him walk. Seeing Jonathan's drunken state, Donald quickly offered assistance. Benny sighed, "He's had too much to drink. Let him rest for the night."

Irene approached and asked, "Benny, you haven't had dinner yet, have you? Join us."

Benny waved his hand. "No need, Mrs. Lynn. My parents want me home for New Year's Day. I should get going." He then left.

Cheryl watched Benny's tall, slim figure depart. She asked Irene, "Irene, who was that handsome guy?"

Irene replied absentmindedly, "A friend of Jonathan's." Then, she went to check on the intoxicated Jonathan.

Donald was helping Jonathan to his room when they passed Hayden. Seeing Jonathan so drunk on New Year's Eve, Hayden angrily smacked him on the back with his cane. The blow made Jonathan grunt in pain.

Irene panicked. "He's already drunk. Why are you hitting him?"

Hayden puffed out his cheeks and glared. "He drank so much, even on New Year's Eve. As the eldest grandson, he should set a good example for his cousins."

Irene retorted, "I doubt he wanted to drink. Maybe it was for work, and he had no choice!"

"She's right, Grandpa. Jonathan has it tough. Stop hitting him," Cheryl said, attempting to defuse the situation.

Jonathan was already lying in his room, the laughter outside seeming distant. Donald entered, carrying a glass of water. "Jonathan, are you hungry? What do you want to eat? I'll bring it to you."

Jonathan declined, stating he wasn't hungry. Finally, he looked at Donald intently. "Was it successfully unlocked? A test?"

"I took it to the transgenerational inheritance department upstairs, had it done for you, and watched the whole process. Why? Didn't you tell me not to tell anyone? I've kept it a secret," Donald stated.

"Whose DNA test was it? Was it for that friend of yours from earlier?" Donald asked, his words and expression neutral.

"It's nothing. You can go now." Jonathan offered no further explanation. The child wasn't his. The last bit of hope and fantasy he had vanished.

His phone rang. A voice message from Michael. He clicked it, and a sweet, childlike voice sounded. "Mr. Lime, have you eaten? Remember to have a feast today, so you'll have abundance every year!"

Jonathan didn't reply; he wasn't in the mood. Everyone said the child looked like him, so, like a fool, he'd done a DNA test—it wasn't his son. He had no expectations, no surprises. He thought, That woman doesn't love or care about me, so why would she have my child?

What saddened Jonathan was that Michael wasn't his. He felt the intense pain of being unloved, a feeling unmistakably clear. The two years of marriage had been a one-man show, with him giving everything unilaterally. A woman who didn't love him would never have his child.

Michael held onto his phone, waiting for Jonathan's reply, but there was still no response after a long time. With reddened eyes, he went to where Teresa was preparing ravioli in the kitchen. "Mommy, why isn't Mr. Lime answering me?"

Teresa turned. "What did you send him this time?"

Michael replied, "I—I just asked him to eat more so he'd have plenty every year."

Teresa, feeling helpless, took Michael's phone. "My dear, please stop sending him messages. He's probably having dinner with his family and hasn't seen your message."

Michael sniffled. "Mommy, let's eat then."

"Sure," she responded.

Teresa had taken leftover ravioli from the freezer to cook. She'd also bought walnuts and pickled vegetables to serve with it.

While Michael ate his ravioli, he looked up at Teresa. "Mommy, why aren't we going home for New Year's Day?"

Teresa's eyes welled up. "Isn't this our home?"