Imogen listened, her heart pounding. Relief and trust washed over her, eclipsing any suspicion. “Archie, how are your injuries? Will there be any lingering effects?”
“They’re almost fully healed. No need to worry,” Archie replied, whispering near her car, a smile playing on his lips. “I have a wife and child to care for, don’t I? I couldn’t afford not to recover.”
That single sentence brought a crimson blush to Imogen’s cheeks. The maids nearby exchanged knowing glances, each sensing the others’ admiration for the depth of Imogen and Archie’s affection.
But duty called. A maid stepped forward. “Ms. Russell, you’re still barefoot. Let me help you with your shoes.”
Before Imogen could respond, Archie took the shoes from the maid and knelt, carefully placing them on her feet. Then, without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
After gently laying her on the bed and tucking her in, he turned to the nearby cradle. Inside, the baby gazed up with wide, round eyes. The child possessed a delicate, cherubic face—soft, fair, and undeniably adorable. However, the baby bore no resemblance to him; it was almost an exact copy of Imogen.
Archie’s initial elation faded, though he forced down his disappointment. Even knowing the child was biologically his, he felt no connection. Yet, he maintained a flawless façade, his expression brimming with joy and fatherly pride, every detail meticulously crafted.
“Can I hold him?” he asked, a hint of nervous excitement in his voice.
Imogen laughed, playfully scolding, “You’re his father. What do you think?”
Bending down, Archie gingerly lifted the baby. His movements were stiff and awkward, making the maids visibly nervous. One stepped forward. “Sir, support his head. He’s young and his bones are soft. Be gentle.”
Archie followed instructions carefully. However, Caleb was uncooperative. His lips quivered before erupting into loud cries. Archie tried bouncing him gently. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m your daddy. Don’t you like Daddy?”
The child only cried harder, his face turning bright red.
The maid quickly took the baby. “Mr. Caleb might be hungry or need changing. I’ll take him to the nursery. Sir, please stay with Ms. Russell.”
“Alright,” Archie replied.
Once the maid left and the door closed, the warm smile vanished from Archie’s face, replaced by a cold, sharp expression. “So noisy and annoying,” he thought. His inner impatience remained masked by a calm exterior. His voice, still soft and soothing, held an ambiguous blend of sincerity and pretense, deceiving everyone but himself.
“Imogen, you’ve been through so much. It’s my fault as a husband and father for not being there for you during such a significant moment as your labor. I’ve let you down. But don’t worry. From now on, I’ll take good care of you and our child.”