Chapter 10 - 010 ※ Beware the Baby With a Plot Twist

"What's her name?"

The woman's voice was soft, curious, carrying a warmth that hinted at genuine interest rather than idle chatter.

"It's Evie," he answered without hesitation, his tone steady and calm, as though the response came to him as effortlessly as drawing breath. There was no falter, no pause—just that singular, smooth delivery that made the lie sound like absolute truth.

"Evie..." she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue with a kind of delicate reverence, almost like it held some sacred weight. Her lips curved into a gentle smile as she tested the name aloud, her tone coated in an almost maternal warmth. "What a beautiful name, just like her." Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, her smile deepening with apparent fondness before she added with a soft chuckle, "She must look like her mother, I suppose."

Ha. Not even close.

I suppressed the urge to laugh—not that I could if I wanted to, given my current predicament. Instead, I merely sat there, quiet and unmoving, my tiny form cradled snugly in his arms. I could feel the faintest flicker of amusement bubbling beneath the surface of my stoic expression. If only she knew how far off the mark she was.

The truth? I looked nothing like my mother. Not a single trait, not even the smallest shred of resemblance tied me to that woman. No, I was the living, breathing carbon copy of my father—the ever-infuriating, endlessly arrogant, yet undeniably beautiful thorn in my side. A thorn that, for better or worse, was currently holding me like the most precious of treasures.

At least I was spared the curse of inheriting her golden hair and bright emerald eyes. Those features might have turned heads and inspired admiration from others, but for me? It would've been nothing short of unbearable. Her beauty had a way of drawing attention, and attention was the last thing I wanted in a world as chaotic as this.

"Yes," he agreed with a smile so genuine, so utterly convincing, even I almost believed him for the briefest of moments. "She's identical to her mother."

What a joke.

"How old is she?" the woman asked, her curious gaze darting back to me. Her eyes sparkled with a warm fascination, as though she were studying some rare and priceless artifact.

"Eight months," he replied smoothly, without so much as a second's hesitation. His voice carried an air of such unwavering confidence that anyone listening might've thought he was simply recounting an irrefutable fact rather than spinning a web of carefully crafted lies.

The certainty in his tone was almost unnerving. It wasn't just that he sounded convincing—it was that he seemed to believe his own fabricated narrative with an almost unnaturally calm conviction. If I didn't know better, I might've been tempted to believe him myself.

"Then she was born in early winter," the woman mused thoughtfully, her gaze softening as it settled on me once more. There was something almost reverent in the way she spoke, as though she were admiring a fragile, delicate snowflake. "It suits her hair, which is white like the snow."

Oh, well, thank you, I thought dryly, though I couldn't entirely suppress the flicker of pride her words stirred in me. Compliments were always appreciated, even if the circumstances left something to be desired.

It was strange, though—having people speak about me, around me, as though I weren't here, as though I were some mindless, unthinking infant incapable of understanding. Because while I might not have the ability to form words yet, I could most certainly listen. And I understood everything.

"And her eyes," the woman continued, her tone softening further, now filled with an almost dreamy admiration. "They're stunning. Like a pair of rubies."

Ah, now that was a compliment I could fully appreciate.

Yes, I am stunning. Absolutely breathtaking, in fact. I mean, I was drop-dead gorgeous as a grown woman, so it only stands to reason that I'd be just as beautiful as a baby. That's just common sense.

"She will make a lot of boys fall for her in the future," the woman added with a knowing smile, her gaze twinkling as though she could already envision the trail of broken hearts I'd leave in my wake.

For my father's sake, I hope she's right.

"I think you're right," he said, a faint chuckle lacing his words. His voice carried that unmistakable tone of amusement, the kind that hinted he was indulging in the playful fantasy rather than outright agreeing. "She'll give me a lot of trouble when she becomes a woman."

Trouble? Oh, please. I'll be the perfect little angel as long as I live under your roof. Saint Evie, that's what they'll call me.

Now, your son on the other hand... He's the one who'll cause trouble. That boy will capture the heart of every girl who crosses his path, but he'll only have eyes for one: Lexie White.

"Thank you for the milk, Mrs. Konan," my father said suddenly, his voice shifting to one of warm, sincere gratitude. He offered her a smile—a dazzling, disarming thing that could've charmed the stars right out of the night sky.

"Don't worry," she replied kindly, her demeanor so warm and inviting it could melt even the coldest of hearts. "I'll make another bottle so she can drink if she wakes up in the middle of the night, and another one for breakfast."

An absolute angel, that one.

And yes, I loved the milk. It was warm, soothing, and exactly what I needed after the long, strange day I'd had.

"Thank you again, Mrs. Konan," he added, his smile widening ever so slightly. "I'll pay you for this tomorrow morning."

If she were a younger woman, I'm sure she would've fallen for him right then and there. That smile of his—it was practically a weapon, unfair in its ability to disarm and enchant.

"No need," she said with a gentle wave of her hand, brushing off his offer as though it were nothing. "I just love kids."

She stepped closer, her movements quiet and deliberate, and gently took the empty plate, the spoon, and my now-empty baby bottle from the small table beside us. Then, to my utter surprise, she leaned down and pressed a soft, feather-light kiss to my forehead.

I couldn't help myself. I smiled up at her, a big, toothless grin that I knew was impossibly cute—irresistibly so, in fact.

She smiled back, her eyes lighting up with genuine delight, as though my simple smile had somehow made her day. Then, with one last fond glance, she turned and left the room, leaving behind an almost tangible warmth in her wake.

"Your smile won her heart," he said after a moment, his voice low and laced with amusement as he looked down at me.

Yes, I know. I'm irresistible. It's both a blessing and a curse.

He laughed softly, the sound rich and warm, and I could feel my fluffy cheeks heating up under his gaze.

"It's funny," he said, his tone taking on a teasing edge, "because I know that your soul and mind are already twenty years old in a baby's body."

When I read the book, I never imagined the emperor—my for-pretend father—would be such a childish man. It's a surprise, but honestly? A welcome one.

"I'm already anxious to see you when you start to talk," he added, his voice softening with what could only be described as tenderness. His gaze lingered on me, filled with a quiet affection that almost seemed out of place given who he was.

Believe me, we're on the same page there. But don't worry—I'll be speaking telepathically to you in no time.