The moment those thoughts reached him, Lance went utterly still. He had spent his entire life relying on no one—always polite, distant, and entirely numb to the loneliness that accompanied being unwanted.
No one had ever truly seen him, let alone spoken to the part of him he didn't dare show until now.
For the first time, someone reached into that cold, quiet space within him and ignited a spark.
His amber eyes gradually softened; the edges were no longer sharp, but instead tentative and curious.
Gently, almost as if he feared I might shatter, he laid me back in the crib. Then, without saying a word, he reached up and unclasped the ivory pendant from around his neck. The metal was still warm from his skin. He carefully fastened it around mine.
"This was the only thing my mother ever left me," he whispered. "Now… it'll protect you."
My chest ached with warmth. I knew exactly how much that pendant meant to him. That was the only thing connecting him to his mom, and he just gave it to me, no big deal.
Across the room, the billionaire and his wife—who are now my parents—watched us with tears in their eyes, holding each other as if they had just witnessed something sacred. It was the kind of moment you spend your whole life hoping to experience.
From that day on, Lance came to visit me at the postpartum center every single day.
And bit by bit, the frost on his face started to thaw.
Whenever I reached out with my tiny fingers to grab his hand, he'd freeze and quickly turn his head away. But the soft blush climbing up the tips of his ears always gave him away.
It wasn't long before he was mixing my formula and feeding me himself, holding the bottle with stiff hands as if I were made of glass.
From day one, I refused breast milk and only drank formula.
[Mom carried me for nine whole months. She deserves to rest now. I want to be a thoughtful baby.]
I even stuck to a perfect schedule, sleeping by 10 p.m. like clockwork, and waking up by 7 a.m. If I ever got hungry during the night, I pressed the nurse call button instead of crying or waking up Mom.
Unsurprisingly, I became the darling of the center.
And once I realized how much everyone loved a smart, polite baby, I started showing off just a little.
First, I started with 'Mommy' and 'Daddy.' Then I leveled up, calling the nurses 'Miss' and the other moms 'Ma'am.' The whole postpartum center lit up with excitement.