The grand gates of the Watson mansion swung open, but instead of the usual quiet, dignified security detail, the driveway looked like a cross between a royal parade and a circus.
Jay-jay sat in the passenger seat of the luxury SUV, carefully holding Jayden in her arms, while Keifer drove with absolute, microscopic precision, constantly checking the rearview mirror where Keira was securely fastened into her high-tech car seat.
Beside the car seat, looking incredibly stressed, was Dr. Ramos, the highly respected, top-tier private pediatrician Keifer had hired to oversee the twins' first week at home.
"Mr. Watson, please advise your... associates... that neon strobe lights are not recommended for newborn optical development," Dr. Ramos said, adjusting his glasses in pure terror as the car pulled up to the main entrance.
Standing on the porch was the Section E defense squad. Ci-N was wearing a full-body stork costume, holding a confetti cannon. Josh had organized a red carpet flanked by giant, ten-foot-tall balloon arches shaped like milk bottles. David was holding a clipboard, and Felix was standing guard next to a massive, industrial-grade smoke machine.
"WELCOME HOME, ROYAL BABIES!" Ci-N shrieked, aiming the confetti cannon into the air.
BANG!
"What in the—!" Dr. Ramos jumped, instantly ducking behind the leather car seat. "Is that a ballistic hazard?! Medical protocol dictates a sterile, quiet environment!"
Keifer rolled down the window, his eyes turning into ice. "Ci-N. If a single piece of shiny foil lands within three feet of my daughter, I am extending your estate banishment to six months."
Ci-N froze mid-cheer, slowly lowering the cannon. "It's bio-degradable sugar paper, Boss... very safe..."
"Clear the perimeter," Keifer commanded, stepping out of the car and immediately opening the back door to shield Keira. "Now."
"Vitals check!" David called out, stepping forward anyway to show his clipboard to a trembling Dr. Ramos. "We have sanitized the entire west wing to 99.9% sterility, Doc. Felix personally tackled the carpets with a steamer."
"And I designed the nursery's color palette to maximize cognitive growth," Josh sniffled, peering into the car to coo at the sleeping babies. "Look at them. They are too elegant for this chaos."
Jay-jay laughed, stepping out with Jayden tucked safely against her chest. "Thanks, guys. But the doctor is about to have a heart attack, so let's move the party inside—without the smoke machine, Felix."
By midnight, the chaos committee had been sent home, Dr. Ramos had safely retreated to the guest house with a bottle of aspirin, and the reality of parenting finally hit the Watson mansion
In the master suite, the dual bassinets stood under a soft, dim nightlight. Suddenly, a sharp, tiny wail pierced the silence. Keira was awake. Two seconds later, Jayden joined the chorus.
Keifer was out of bed before the first cry even finished. He didn't look like a glamorous CEO right now—his hair was messy, his silk pajama shirt was slightly wrinkled, and he had a burp cloth slung over his shoulder like a tactical weapon.
"I've got this," Keifer whispered to Jay-jay, who was trying to push herself up. "You need to rest. I have engineered a system."
Jay-jay blinked sleepily, watching as Keifer flipped open his high-end business laptop on the nightstand. On the screen was a highly complex, color-coded spreadsheet titled: PROJECT LEGACY: INFANT OPTIMIZATION PROTOCOL
"Keifer... is that an Excel sheet?" Jay-jay muttered, rubbing her eyes.
"It's a workflow optimization chart," Keifer corrected seriously, staring at the data points. "According to my calculations, infant metabolic processing dictates a direct correlation between fluid intake and output. I have divided the night into quadrants. At 0200 hours, Keira is statistically at 87% capacity for a diaper change."
He walked over to Keira's bassinet, lifting her with extreme care and placing her on the changing table. He opened a fresh diaper, staring at it as if analyzing a corporate merger.
"Okay. Efficiency is key. Standard operating procedure for a tactical diaper swap should take exactly forty-five seconds," Keifer muttered to himself. He reached for the wet wipes. "Step one: Clean. Step two: Apply barrier cream—"
Pssssssssst
Keira, entirely unbothered by her father's corporate timeline, fountain-peed directly onto Keifer's pristine pajama sleeve.
Keifer froze. The Cold Prince of the Watson Empire, a man who had negotiated multi-billion dollar deals without blinking, was completely defeated by a seven-pound newborn.
From the bed, Jay-jay burst out laughing, burying her face in her pillow to muffle the sound so she wouldn't scare the babies. "Oh my god... Keifer! Is that part of your workflow optimization?"
"There was an unexpected liquid deficit leakage," Keifer said, his voice completely deadpan as he stared at his wet sleeve. He looked down at Keira, who was now blinking up at him with a smug, victorious little expression. She looked exactly like a tiny, baby version of the Mutya.
Jayden, meanwhile, let out a tiny grunt from his bassinet, entirely satisfied with the chaos his sister had caused.
Keifer sighed, a soft, defeated smile breaking through his serious expression. He tossed the ruined pajama shirt into the laundry bin, cleaned up his daughter, and expertly fastened the new diaper in record time. He scooped Keira up, resting her against his bare chest, where she immediately quieted down, listening to his steady heartbeat.
"Your business logic doesn't work on Section E blood, Keifer," Jay-jay teased gently, reaching out her arms as he brought a freshly changed Keira back to bed.
"Clearly," Keifer murmured, leaning down to kiss Jay-jay's cheek, then pressing a soft kiss to the top of Keira's head. "They don't respect authority at all. They really are your kids, Jay."
"Our kids," Jay-jay corrected softly, snuggling into his side as the twins finally drifted back to sleep.
The corporate empire could wait. Right now, the Cold Prince was entirely under the command of two tiny dictators.