Evangeline Montgomery hadn’t experienced any morning sickness, and her health was in excellent shape. However, being cooped up at home for days on end had left her restless. After days of sweet-talking Marcellus, she finally wore him down, and he agreed to let her visit the office occasionally.

Since the footage of their wedding had leaked, her bespoke wedding gown design had attracted significant attention. Inquiries for private commissions flooded in, but to ensure she wouldn't overwork herself, Remi Crawford personally vetted and managed the workload. Under the direction of Noah Mitchell, the company’s operations had become razor-sharp; by optimizing the supply chain and leveraging high-traffic streaming platforms for marketing, the firm was seeing unprecedented growth.

Life had become an effortless rhythm—busy enough to feel productive, yet never so hectic that it felt suffocating.

This comfortable, steady pace lasted for four months. As the due date approached, Marcellus absolutely refused to let her leave the house. One afternoon, Evangeline was curled up on the sofa in their home, resting her chin in her hands. A sudden wave of agitation surged through her; she kicked her slippers off, sending them flying across the room.

"If you're bored, Madam, why not go to the office and visit the Master?" Helen Meyer suggested gently.

Evangeline pouted, clearly unimpressed. "I don't want to. I see him all day every day. What’s there to do?"

"Careful now," Helen warned with a smile. "You shouldn't let the Master hear you say that, or he’ll get into one of his moods again."

"Tch. He gets moody all the time. His emotional regulation is worse than mine, and I’m the one carrying a baby."

Helen lowered her head, hiding a knowing smile. "When a wife is with child, it is often the husband who finds the waiting the most difficult."

"Oh?" Evangeline pondered this for a moment. When the realization finally clicked, her face turned a bright, burning crimson. "I... I think I'll go, then. Staying here is just wasting time anyway."

"Very good. I’ll have Oliver Brown pull the car around right away."

Watching Helen bustle off to coordinate with the driver, Evangeline couldn't help but laugh. "She really does worry about everything."

When she arrived at Alexander Corp, she reached for the handle of the office door, but a young secretary darted over, looking pale and nervous. "Madam! The CEO is in a meeting."

"That's fine. I'll wait inside."

"W-wait, please!" The secretary blocked her way, stuttering, "There is... there is a guest inside."

The secretary’s evasive demeanor sent a spike of intuition through Evangeline. "A guest? Alone in the CEO’s private office?"

"The CEO... the CEO gave permission."

"Is that so?"

"Why are you making things hard for a little girl? Your attitude isn't exactly impressive for someone in your position, Mrs. Alexander."

The office door swung open from the inside. A woman with a sharp, sultry beauty leaned against the frame, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. The young secretary was trembling so hard she was picking at her own skin, her face drained of all color.

"Madam, this is..." the secretary began, but the woman cut her off with a haughty tilt of her chin.

"I am a business partner of Marcellus’s. The closest kind." She let her gaze drop, scanning Evangeline’s protruding stomach with a look of pure disdain.

The woman's gaze made Evangeline’s skin crawl, but she had no interest in engaging in a petty verbal sparring match. She walked past the woman with cool indifference, stepped into the office, and took her seat in the high-backed leather chair behind the desk.

"How dare you sit in his chair!"

Evangeline rubbed her temples, her voice cold. "Miss, you are being incredibly noisy."

"I said get up! Who gave you the right to sit there?" The woman lunged, reaching out to drag Evangeline from the seat.

A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the air from the doorway. "Juliana Marshall!"

"Marcellus! She’s showing complete disrespect for your authority! She actually sat in your chair!" Juliana crossed her arms, looking at Evangeline with a 'let's see what happens now' expression.

"If my wife wants to sit on my head, she’s welcome to it," Marcellus said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register. "Juliana, you’ve overstepped."

"Marcellus!" She looked at the man, stunned. "I recall that when Romeo Marshall sat in this chair, you didn't react like this! Are we not brothers-in-arms? Does a woman mean that much more to you than your own partners?"

"Juliana! The deal in Europe is yours to keep. From now on, we have no ties—bridge burned. Get out!"

"Ha! You really are as cold-blooded as they say!"

Juliana grit her teeth, her eyes fixed on Evangeline with pure hatred. In a fit of rage, she swept her arm across the desk, scattering files and folders. One of the heavy folders went flying, the sharp corner striking Evangeline square in the abdomen.

"Ugh!"

Evangeline gasped, clutching her stomach as a wave of agony washed over her.

"Evangeline!"

Marcellus was at her side in an instant, his face pale with panic.

Juliana stood by, arms crossed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. Stop the dramatics. How much damage could a folder do?"

"Marcellus... it hurts... the baby... hospital!" Evangeline cried out.

She felt a sudden gush of warmth between her legs, followed by a series of sharp, rhythmic contractions. The tightening in her abdomen became so severe that beads of sweat popped out on her forehead.

Marcellus didn't hesitate. He scooped her into his arms, and when he felt the wetness soaking through his clothes, his heart plummeted into a bottomless pit. "Preston Wright! Get the car!"

After Marcellus raced off with Evangeline, Juliana finally noticed the damp spot on the leather chair. Panic flared in her eyes, and she scrambled out of the building, fumbling for her phone to call her brother.

Inside the delivery room, the sound of a woman’s desperate cries filled the air. Outside, Marcellus paced, his knuckles white as he tried to keep his composure.

"The fetus is premature; the head hasn't dropped into the pelvis yet," the doctor said, speaking rapidly. "The impact caused the amniotic sac to rupture. There is a high risk of infection, and natural birth is no longer an option. It’s an emergency—we need to perform a C-section immediately. Sign the consent form."

Marcellus’s mind went blank; all he could hear was the word 'emergency.'

"Sir, please! Every second counts!"

With trembling hands, he scribbled his name. When the 'Surgery in Progress' light flickered on, he felt as if he were being submerged in ice water.

Edward Montgomery arrived, supporting a near-collapsed Marilyn. "Marcellus! Why is she in premature labor?"

Marilyn tugged at him frantically. "Speak to me!"

Marcellus’s eyes were bloodshot, locked on the operating room doors, his body rigid as a statue.

"You tell us!" Edward barked at Preston.

Preston stuttered through the sequence of events. Before anyone could react, Edward lunged forward, landing a brutal punch square on Marcellus's face.

Marcellus didn't even flinch. A bruise began to bloom on his jaw, but his gaze never shifted from the door.

Marilyn held her husband back. "Stop it. Wait until she's out."

The rest of the Alexander family began to arrive. The atmosphere grew thick and suffocating; no one dared to ask questions, keeping a silent, tense vigil.

Half an hour later, the thin, piercing cry of a baby shattered the silence.

"She’s born!"

"She's here!"

Everyone leaned toward the door. A moment later, the doctor stepped out, cradling a tiny, pink bundle.

"Who is the husband?"

"I... I am." Marcellus forced the words out.

The doctor smiled. "Don't worry, mother and daughter are safe. She weighs 6.4 pounds and is 18.9 inches long. She's healthy. Congratulations!" The doctor moved to hand the baby to him.

"I... I’m sorry, my arms are frozen."

"I'll take her!" Marilyn rushed forward, tears streaming down her face as she looked at the tiny, delicate features. "My little angel... she looks exactly like Evangeline did as a baby."

Marcellus grabbed the doctor, his voice thick with anxiety. "What about my wife? When is she coming out?"

"In about thirty minutes. We’re finishing the sutures now."

"Right."

He took a deep breath, trying to loosen his posture as he slowly leaned in to look at his daughter. Because she was born before thirty-seven weeks, she was thin and wrinkled—a little 'ugly' by his standards.

"Mom, does she really look like her?"

Edward, standing nearby, reached over and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Hey! What kind of question is that?"

"She's not... she’s not very pretty," Marcellus muttered.

His father-in-law promptly smacked him again. "Not another word out of you!"

The man who usually had a temper like a powder keg was being beaten by his father-in-law, yet he didn't show a hint of anger.

While the family shared the warmth of the moment, Fiona Nguyen lingered in the shadows nearby, rolling her eyes. "Making such a fuss over a girl."

"And what if it were a boy?" Benedict Alexander interjected, stepping out from the crowd. "If he turned out like your son Nolan, that would be a true headache."

"Benedict! You..."

Before Fiona could retaliate, she noticed the woman standing next to Benedict and let out a cold laugh. "Benedict, can you even tell the difference between a rose and a lily anymore? Or rather, can you tell the difference between Evangeline and this... stand-in of yours?"

Lorelei Ellis chimed in with a sneer. "If you liked her so much, why not take your mother’s advice back then? Finding a replacement now is just pathetic."

"Ladies, I am simply the CEO's assistant," the young girl said, her voice steady, completely unfazed by their taunts.

"Who asked you?" Fiona scoffed.

Since the delivery was successful, the two women turned and walked away. Benedict stared at the scene for a long time before dropping his gaze. "Let’s go."

"Yes, sir."

The baby was taken to the recovery suite, leaving Edward and Marcellus at the door. When Evangeline was finally wheeled out, Marcellus saw her pale, exhausted face. His throat tightened, and he broke down, his tears finally falling.

"Evangeline..."

She lifted her heavy eyelids, her voice a whisper. "Did you see the baby?"

"Yes."

"Is she pretty?"

"..."

"Tch! She's asking you a question!" Edward scolded, glaring at his son-in-law.

"She's... beautiful."

His eyes drifted, clearly lying, but fortunately, Evangeline was too exhausted to notice.

The nurses came in every thirty minutes to press down on her stomach to monitor recovery. Evangeline gritted her teeth, her forehead beaded with sweat, yet she didn't make a sound. In contrast, Marcellus was sobbing uncontrollably beside her bed, unable to stop.

Edward looked at him with utter disgust. "Can you stop bawling? If people didn't know better, they'd think you were the one who gave birth!"

The doctor sighed. "Please, everyone quiet down. The patient needs to rest."