The following morning, Leland Alexander arrived bright and early, practically radiating delight at the news. When Marcellus descended the stairs, he found his grandfather perched on the sofa, looking like he’d won the lottery.

"Grandpa."

"Marcellus! Where’s Evangeline? Still sleeping?"

"Yes. She’s been sleeping quite a bit lately."

"Let her rest, let her rest."

Leland was so immersed in his own joy that he completely missed his grandson’s haggard expression. Marcellus sank into the opposite armchair, looking utterly drained.

Helen Meyer walked over with a glass of milk, her brow furrowed in concern. "Young Master, is milk really enough? You haven’t touched a thing."

"I’m fine. I just can’t stomach anything right now."

Only then did Leland finally take a proper look at him. "What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve been plowing fields for twenty miles without a break."

Helen smothered a laugh behind her hand. "Sir, our young master is experiencing sympathetic morning sickness for the young mistress!"

"The hell is that?"

"I don't know the medical term, but Dr. Spencer said it only happens to men who are deeply, painfully devoted to their wives."

"And Evangeline? Is she throwing up, too?"

"Not at all. The young mistress is eating and sleeping like a queen."

Helen’s eyes crinkled with joy. It was a bizarre phenomenon—unheard of, really. But if his grandson was truly strong enough to share in the burdens of pregnancy, it was almost a blessing in disguise.

Leland was dumbfounded. "That’s actually a thing?"

"Haha, well, it’s not all bad. It’ll teach him how hard pregnancy is so he can treat her even better."

"Urgh!"

No sooner had the words left her lips than a sharp, retching sound cut through the room. Leland watched, stunned, before collapsing into laughter, clutching his sides. "Good god, that’s rich!"

Marcellus didn’t flinch at the mockery. He simply reached for his water glass with a steady hand. "Grandpa, watch your mouth—you're laughing so hard your dentures are going to make a run for it."

Leland’s expression shifted instantly, his laughter dying a swift death. He swatted at Marcellus’s leg with his cane. "You insolent brat!"

"If you're done, you should head back. I have to go earn a living for my wife and child."

Leland watched his grandson walk away, a soft, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"The boy finally feels human," he murmured.

"Indeed," Helen agreed. "Since the young mistress arrived, the young master’s mood has stabilized. He’s smiling more, and he’s so much more at peace."

"Things will only get better from here." Leland’s gaze drifted into the distance, his lips twitching into a knowing, cryptic smile.

At the office, it was a disaster. Marcellus was puking during boardroom meetings, puking while signing contracts, and even mid-insult while chewing out subordinates. The entire staff at Alexander Corp was whispering that the CEO had come down with some mysterious, terminal illness.

As Preston Wright cut through the administrative wing, a junior secretary lunged out and dragged him into a private office, her hand clamped over his mouth.

"Mr. Wright! I’m going to let go, but don't you dare scream!" she whispered, pointing a finger at him with theatrical intensity.

Preston rolled his eyes, looking absolutely exhausted. "Are we doing a murder mystery roleplay today?"

"No! I just want to know what’s wrong with the CEO. Could it be… his stomach?" She broke off, her face turning pale as she covered her own mouth, terrified she’d said too much.

Preston poked her forehead. "Focus on your work, not the gossip."

He walked out, but hesitated at the door. He turned back and tossed over his shoulder, "The CEO is fine. His wife is pregnant. He’s got Couvade syndrome."

Before the girl could even process the words, Preston was gone. She scrambled to her computer, her fingers flying across the keys.

"Oh my god! Our stone-cold CEO is actually this whipped?"

"What? What is it?"

The entire office crowded around her monitor. A collective gasp rippled through the room. The legendary, feared "Prince of Kyoto"—a man known for being cold-blooded and volatile—was actually a hopeless romantic?

"His looks are one in a million, his assets are practically a small country, and the best part? He’s only ever had eyes for one person. What kind of god-tier man is this?"

"Haha… someone wipe the drool off your chin!"

"Shh! Keep it down!"

The room went deathly silent as everyone shot wary glances toward the door. True, he was a dream for her—but he remained a nightmare for everyone else.

Marcellus spent the day retching until his stomach was raw. He leaned back in his chair, feeling every bit of the exhaustion, and realized that a woman’s journey into motherhood was a feat of endurance he could barely comprehend.

Meanwhile, after getting the call, Remi Crawford felt like she was crawling out of her skin with excitement. She couldn’t wait another second to get to Elysian Estate. When Damian Spencer came to pick her up, she was practically skipping.

"Remi, slow down! You’re wearing heels—if you trip, I’m not responsible for the heart attack you just gave me!" Damian shouted, chasing after her.

She was breathless, but her face was alight with pure joy. "Just drive!"

"Are you really this excited because Evangeline is pregnant?"

"Obviously. The child she's carrying is basically my own."

"Cough!"

Damian nearly choked on his own spit, reeling from the weight of her words. "Remi, if that’s your child, then the one you give birth to must be mine."

Remi looked at him, surprised by his deadpan delivery. She quickly turned her head to stare out the window, feigning disinterest. But her hands, twisting the fabric of her skirt, betrayed her nerves.

Damian’s gaze darkened, and he gave a hollow, bitter laugh. The air in the car turned heavy and suffocating. Remi knew he was sincere, and she knew she loved him—she just couldn't figure out why she was being so stubborn. She kept telling him she’d marry him when the "time was right," but she didn’t even know what that meant. Seeing the quiet, encroaching sadness in his eyes pricked at her heart. She decided she’d have to sit down and figure out her own confusion soon.

She took a deep breath, forced a bright smile, and searched for a new topic. "Damian, why is this road so empty?"

"This mountain belongs to Marcellus. Up there is Elysian Estate."

"Wow, poverty really does limit my imagination. But isn't it creepy living way up on a mountain?"

"The old sayings say: mountains provide support, water brings wealth. A place nestled between them is a feng shui goldmine."

Remi clicked her tongue in amazement. "Well, put that way, this whole mountain looks like it’s made of gold."

Damian glanced at her with a soft smile, a brilliant idea beginning to take root in his mind.

The European-style villa was hidden deep within the forest, looking like a mysterious castle with its intricate stone carvings and Roman columns. As Remi scanned the sprawling, complex gardens with their various pavilions, her eyes suddenly lit up.

"Is that a lake?"

"A natural one. Want a tour?"

Remi shook her head. "No, let’s see Evangeline first."

Inside, Evangeline was curled up on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. A moment later, a joyous shout echoed through the hall.

"Evangeline! I'm here!"

"Remi! I’ve been waiting forever. I’ve missed you so much!"

Remi pulled her up and scanned her face, nodding in satisfaction. "You’ve filled out a bit. Your complexion looks much better."

"Of course. I’ve been eating well."

"Good girl." Remi pinched her cheeks, giving them a playful shake. Her eyes suddenly dropped to Evangeline’s stomach, and she reached out, touching her abdomen with a sense of wonder. "There’s a baby in here… you’re going to be a mother. It’s so surreal."

Evangeline leaned into the touch, her expression softening. "I know. It’s hard to believe I’m actually growing a new life."

"Wow… Evangeline, you’re literally glowing with motherly grace right now."

Helen arrived with a tray of fruit and tea. "Ms. Crawford, please, have some."

Remi blinked, surprised. "How did you know my name was Remi?"

"The young mistress mentions her adorable fairy-godmother best friend to me all the time."

"Haha, really? Is that how you describe me, sweetie?" Remi tilted Evangeline’s chin up, a playful, flirtatious gleam in her eye as she leaned in close.

"Remi!"

"Evangeline!"

Two voices cut through the room, sharp and urgent. Remi awkwardly turned toward the doorway to see Marcellus striding in, a protective arm instantly wrapping around Evangeline.

"What do you think you’re doing, Ms. Crawford?"

"Pfft. Why are you jealous? We were practically inseparable years before you even knew she existed," Remi countered, crossing her arms without backing down.

"Urgh!"

"Whoa—am I really that nauseating?"

Damian laughed, pulling Remi into his side. "Stop poking the bear. His emotions are volatile today; he’s puking his guts out."

"Why?"

Damian explained the situation with a patient, amused tone.

"Holy—" Remi looked at Marcellus, stunned. "Okay, fine. Your love is the real deal. I’m not messing with that."

She’d heard of surrogacy, but she’d never heard of someone "subbing in" for morning sickness. Truly, the world was full of wonders!