Chapter 528

Alexander Hamilton stood by the crib, gazing tenderly at the little one. Baby Chloe wore a pink onesie, fluffy as a bunny, babbling while waving her tiny hands.

He picked up a rattle and gently shook it.

The clear chime immediately caught her attention. Her chubby fingers reached out, nearly bringing it to her mouth before Alexander swiftly intercepted, replacing it with a plush toy.

The room filled with her delighted giggles.

Only when she grew tired did Alexander hang a rotating musical mobile above the crib. Sitting beside her, he kept a hand ready to prevent her from rolling over. "You acted differently toward Lydia today," he mused.

Evelyn Carter paused while organizing baby supplies. "That obvious?"

"No." He shook his head. "But I remember you used to say she was as innocent as a greenhouse flower. Today, though..."

"People change." Her tone was even.

Alexander studied her eyes. "Did you discover something?"

Evelyn set down the clothes and faced him. "Alexander, answer me first."

"Go ahead."

"If I told you Lydia isn’t as innocent as she seems, would you believe me?"

The question unlocked a flood of memories.

A similar conversation had once been the spark that destroyed their marriage.

Regret flashed across Evelyn’s face. She laughed bitterly. "Never mind. Forget I asked."

She had long learned not to expect anything.

But this time, Alexander was firm. "I believe you."

Evelyn’s head snapped up.

His gaze was steady and warm. "Evelyn, I trust you."

Her lips trembled. "...Who knows if it’s true," she whispered.

The mobile’s lullaby drowned out her words.

Alexander only saw her lips move. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." She tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "Thank you for trusting me. But I have no proof—just a feeling."

"No proof needed." His response was immediate. "If you say it, I believe you."

Evelyn froze.

This unconditional trust had come far too late.

"What are your plans regarding Dempsey Group?" Alexander shifted the topic.

Evelyn thought for a moment. "I don’t understand business enough to judge. But now that their funding issues are resolved, securing orders is the priority. I’ll share my thoughts with Vivian and let her decide."

"She should learn to make executive decisions," Alexander agreed.

Evelyn fell silent, resolving to look deeper into the Laurent family’s records.

"Waah—!" Baby Chloe suddenly cooed, as if trying to sing along.

Both adults turned.

The little one flailed her arms, mumbling: "Buh... Bah-buh!"

Alexander went rigid, as if struck by lightning.

"Bah-buh!" She grew more excited.

His eyes reddened instantly. "What... is she saying?"

"Uncle," Evelyn said calmly.

"Oh. Uncle." His voice shook.

"Mm."

She rarely saw him so undone.

"Alexander?"

No response.

He seemed frozen, his gaze impossibly tender.

After several calls, he finally blinked, his lashes casting shadows across his face.

Baby Chloe waved happily.

Evelyn waved back, cherishing these moments—knowing Bianca Langley would return tomorrow.

Alexander found his voice again. "I... misheard. Thought she said 'Daddy.'"

"Her pronunciation isn’t clear, but she got the title right. You’re her uncle."

"No one taught her. She just knew." His smile was distant.

"Mm."

"Evelyn," he asked suddenly, "when do babies usually start saying 'Daddy'?"

"Between seven months to over a year."

He fell silent, as if calculating.

"If..." His throat worked. "She’d be one year and two months now. Should’ve called me 'Daddy' long ago."

He should have heard it much sooner.

Evelyn’s chest tightened. "No."

"I know." His smile was pained. "I know."

"I mean," she took a breath, "you forgot the pregnancy timeline. She was conceived four weeks in, born eight months later. She’s only six months old—too young to speak."

"...Right." He pressed urgently, "Does she have teeth yet?"

"Should by now."

"Still only on milk? No solids?"

"No."

"Even with teeth?"

Evelyn turned away, her voice low. "A six-month-old’s digestive system isn’t ready for solids."

Alexander nodded.

"Why ask?"

"No reason." Softly, he added, "Next month at Rooster Temple, I’ll bring formula."

"Mm." She paused. "And some toys."

"Okay."

Suddenly, Vincent Croix came to mind. A pang of bitterness followed.

At least Vincent’s daughter was real.

His... wasn’t.