Chapter 1

Abian Bimantara. Your son, Adrian Bimantara.

Okay. Talk about a shocker.

“Huh?!” Every member of the Bimantara family gaped in unison after reading the single line written on a piece of paper they found inside a box. Right there in that box, resting on their front porch, was a chubby, fair-skinned baby boy.

The senior Mr. And Mrs. Bimantara, along with their eldest son, instantly turned their gaze toward the youngest, who was right there at the scene of the crime, giving him bewildered and suspicious looks.

Adrian Bimantara was known as a quiet guy. Even so, from childhood into adulthood, he had never done anything to bring scandal upon the family. He was an obedient, devoted son who always prioritized his education until he successfully earned a managerial seat at the family company. He simply didn’t have the time—or much interest—to get romantically involved with anyone.

You could say the youngest was far more focused on his career than on starting a relationship. Even though plenty of women fell for him and tried to catch his attention, Adrian remained completely indifferent. And now, this guy—whom his family had quietly suspected of being asexual—suddenly had a child?

Wait, what? When did he even make a baby?!

“No way!” the youngest snapped, scowling in complete denial. “That could easily be Big Brother’s baby!”

“Like hell it is!” Adnan shot back, equally outraged. “Your name is literally written right here. Now explain this to us. Who did you get pregnant with?”

The elder Bimantara couple kept their eyes glued to their youngest son. Coupled with Adnan’s sharp question, all three of them reached the same conclusion: if Adrian had refused to take responsibility, this secret baby was sent here to prove the youngest Bimantara was at fault.

Hmph! There was no other logical explanation. The three of them let out a collective sigh. Good grief!

“I have never been involved in anything reckless with anyone! There is no way that baby is mine!” Adrian protested once again. He knew for a fact he hadn’t been in any romantic relationship, nor had he engaged in any wild hookups. He refused to be accused like this. Who on earth dumped a baby at the Bimantara residence and dragged his name into it?

The three older Bimantaras looked over at the box, where the chubby baby was happily playing with a rubber toy in his tiny hands. So much for ‘never involved,’ they thought, feeling a wave of pity for the little guy whose own father was refusing to claim him.

“Let’s do a DNA test! The results definitely won’t match!” Adrian declared, building his defense wall.

Agam Bimantara, the head of the family, let out another sigh. “Calm down. We’re all shocked here. Especially since your name is written on that paper. If a DNA test can give us answers, then we’ll do it.”

“And what if it turns out to be a match?” Adnan asked, ignoring his younger brother’s irritated scowl. He just wanted them to have a plan set once the results came in.

Adrian scoffed. “It won’t be a match!”

“Alright, that’s enough. If it’s a match, of course we raise him. He’s a Bimantara by blood. Then we find his biological mother.” Agam immediately held up a finger when his youngest opened his mouth to interrupt. “If it’s not a match, we still care for him while we figure out who brought him here and return him. If we still can’t find anyone, we’ll report it and take him to an orphanage.”

Fair and wise. Everyone agreed, even if Adrian kept pouting. For now, until the DNA test was conducted, they would look after the baby named Abian. Rosa promptly lifted the baby out of the box and held him in her arms, looking closely at Abian’s cute face. He had inherited quite a few features from the Bimantara bloodline—or more specifically, from Adrian.

Ahem.

The only difference was the beautiful sparkle in the baby’s eyes, something no other Bimantara possessed. His irises were a bright light brown, like twinkling lights shining in the dark night, accompanied by a broad, sweet smile. Baby Abian wasn’t gloomy or stoic like the typical Bimantara; he was quick to laugh, especially when Rosa gently pinched his sharp little nose.

Abian wriggled with delight, letting out a silent, adorable chuckle.

Ah, if he really was her grandson, Rosa would gladly welcome him. Normally, a situation like this would be handled with strict gravity, but she didn’t want the cold aura typical of their famous family to affect little Abian, who felt like a refreshing oasis in their home. Abian was the complete opposite of the Bimantaras. May he truly be my grandson, Rosa prayed silently.

**

It took only three days for the DNA test results to come back. They had deliberately sent the samples without visiting the hospital in person to avoid starting a scandal. Fortunately, a senior doctor at the hospital was an old friend of Agam’s, keeping the baby’s existence completely confidential.

Everyone gathered in the living room: Agam, Rosa, Adnan, and Adrian. Not forgetting the chubby little guy named Abian, who was resting in Mrs. Bimantara’s arms while busily gnawing on a rubber toy, even though his teeth hadn’t grown in yet.

An envelope bearing the label of a top hospital sat in the hands of the patriarch. They all stared at the white envelope with nervous anticipation, waiting for Agam to open it and read the letter inside. As the edge of the envelope was torn open, Adnan and Adrian swallowed hard in unison. Talk about nerve-wracking!

The report was pulled out. Agam read what was written on the page. His expression gradually shifted, his brow furrowing before his eyes narrowed near the bottom of the document.

“Oh, dear Lord...”

“What is it? What does it say?” Mrs. Bimantara stepped closer to her husband, leaning in to look at the results Agam was holding. Skipping straight to the conclusion, Rosa knit her brows and murmured, “Is this for real?”

Seeing the strange reaction from their parents, both Adnan and Adrian moved closer to Agam and Rosa. The eldest son snatched the DNA test report right out of his father’s hand—a rude move, definitely not recommended—and read it alongside Adrian.

Based on the samples received and tested by the hospital, the match between Adrian Bimantara and the baby named Abian was nearly one hundred percent—meaning their DNA was a match. The youngest son was indeed the baby’s father.

Adrian took the paper himself, re-reading every single word printed on it, hoping he had misread it the first time. But the conclusion stating that his DNA matched Abian’s—that they were father and son—did not change. It was clearly displayed right there, complete with the testing physician’s name, signature, and official seal.

“No way!” the youngest exclaimed. “This has to be a mistake!” he added, refusing to accept it.

“Adrian...” His older brother patted his shoulder, trying to soothe him. “Even if you deny it, these results aren’t going to change.”

“But... but... I’ve never been with anyone! How on earth could this baby be mine?!” Seriously, how could the baby currently cradled in his mother’s arms be his son? Adrian had never slept with anyone in his life!

“Adrian, weren’t you the one who demanded a DNA test in the first place?” Agam spoke up, hitting his youngest right where it hurt.

The twenty-five-year-old young man fell silent, his face draining of color. How... how could this happen? Why like this? His entire goal was to prove he shared no blood or connection with the baby. But instead, it proved they were directly linked. Adrian was his father? N-No way!

“Alright, that’s enough. Whatever the outcome, we already agreed we would take care of Abian,” Rosa said, breaking the tense atmosphere lingering between her husband and two sons. “Now we just need to figure out who Abian’s mother is.”

Agam and Adnan let out a synchronized sigh, while Adrian remained frozen, staring blankly at the DNA test results in his hands. His mind was still spinning over how Abian could possibly be his child. He racked his brain, desperately replaying every person he had ever met, everyone he knew, who could potentially be the baby’s mother. Or had he somehow done something scandalous without even realizing it? Argh!