"Ahhh!"

In a luxury private hospital in B City, a loud, anguished scream shattered the early morning calm.

"You jerk! If it’s another boy, I swear I’m divorcing you! For real!"

Vivian White was in so much pain she could barely hold it in. She balled up her fist and pounded it hard on her husband's shoulder.

"Yes, yes, I'm a jerk, guilty as charged. Honey, I’ve got thick skin, be careful not to hurt your hand."

"If something happens to my wife, I swear I’ll burn this whole hospital down!"

"Understood, understood... Mr. Barlow, please stand aside."

The doctor wiped the sweat off his forehead, cursing silently in his mind.

Man, this was the eighth kid already. Over the past years, Antony Barlow had played the “threaten the hospital” card seven—wait, make that eight—times now. Give them a break. They were just trying to earn an honest living.

Antony Barlow, CEO of Barlow Corp, basically walked with the wind.

But right now, he was holding onto his wife Vivian’s hand like his life depended on it, totally a mess.

"Don’t worry, babe, I’m right here. I’ll stay with you the whole time."

Vivian, who was nearly drained by the pain, suddenly widened her eyes in disbelief and sat up.

"Get out!"

"But honey, I want to be by your side—"

"Antony Barlow, if you don’t leave right now, I’m not pushing! Aaaagh, it huuurts~~"

As the doctors reached to take off her pants, she clutched the waistband like her life depended on it. "Go away! Giving birth is ugly! You’ll see me like this and go chase some young thing outside!"

Antony: “??”

Honey, seriously? We’re in labor and that’s what you’re worried about?

Outside the delivery room, Antony was sweating bullets, pacing like crazy, mumbling under his breath.

"Please, God, let my wife give birth to a little girl this time. I’m willing to trade ten years of my life for a baby princess."

Vivian firmly believed that it was the guy’s genes that decided the baby’s gender.

And Antony? Well, his motto was: whatever my wife says goes.

Not far from the delivery room, seven little boys stood in a neat row, dressed identically in mini tailored suits.

Fair-skinned, perfectly featured, they looked like little models from a catalog. Their bright eyes were glued anxiously to the delivery room door.

"If Mommy gives us a sister, I’ll give her all my toys."

"I’ll hand over my entire allowance!"

"I… I’ll wash her feet for the rest of my life!"

"...?!"

The six older brothers turned to stare at their youngest sibling in shock.

Bro, seriously? Washing feet forever? That’s just shameless.

"Waaah~~"

The sound of a newborn’s cry rang out.

The doctor came out beaming from ear to ear.

"Mr. Barlow, congrats! It’s a baby girl! In my twenty years of delivering babies, I’ve never seen one this adorable right out of the womb—fair-skinned, flawless, not a trace of blood, like a real-life porcelain doll."

"A daughter..."

Antony’s palms were sweaty. He quickly wiped them on his suit pants before carefully taking the baby from the doctor.

At first, he looked like he couldn’t quite believe it. Then, tears and laughter came rushing out together.

God had answered his prayers. The ancestors must’ve been watching. He, Antony Barlow, finally had a daughter.

The moment the seven boys heard they had a sister, they rushed over like a tornado, arms outstretched.

"Sis, I’m your big bro!"

"I’m your second bro!"

"And I'm your seventh!"

"Dad, quick, let us hold her!"

The siblings stood on tiptoe, nearly tripping over one another in their eagerness to get a hold of their baby sister.

Antony scooped the baby closer to his chest and shot them a look. "Back off. She’s too little. You’ll scare her."The seven brothers: "..."

Tch, mean old Dad, stealing our baby sister and not letting us even get a peek.

Inside the maternity room, Vivian White, still pale and drained from childbirth, lay alone on the hospital bed, listening to the chaos outside. The jealous squabbles over the newborn almost made her tear up.

Back when she'd had their seven sons, Antony Barlow had rushed in the second they were born.

But now? Now that he finally had a baby girl, all his attention was wrapped around her. As if she, his wife, didn’t exist anymore.

Ugh. So not cool.

Isabelle Battley, her best friend of over two decades, rushed to the hospital with her youngest son after getting the news.

As soon as she walked in and heard Vivian had given birth to a girl, she was over the moon.

She glanced at the tiny baby nestled in Antony’s arms, and her heart practically melted on the spot.

The little one’s eyes were shut, her skin snow-white, long lashes curled thick and dark, and her tiny, delicate features were like a doll’s.

One chubby hand was shoved into her mouth as she happily sucked on it, clearly loving it.

Oh man.

As a mom of three wild boys, Isabelle honestly felt like her eyes were about to pop from envy.

If only she could've had such a sweet little daughter too.

The maternity room was lit up with joy—Antony’s got a daughter now, which meant the entire family rallied to celebrate.

Add the chaos from the seven brothers bickering outside, and the whole hallway was buzzing with excitement.

But amidst all the noise, one boy stood out—because he said nothing. Nolan Hughes was way too quiet for the vibe around him.

The kid was stunning. Like, seriously, every feature belonged on a statue, that gorgeous. Especially those slightly upturned peach blossom eyes—they glimmered like stars, unreal.

But if you looked closer, his pupils gave off this distant, almost cold vibe. He seemed detached from everything, like he was never truly present.

Cold. Jaded. Definitely not the cuddly type.

Expressionless, he lifted his head and glanced toward the baby in the bassinet not far away.

And something weird happened—baby girl, who had her eyes shut before, suddenly opened them.

They locked eyes.

Then, just like that, she gave him the sweetest little giggle.

"..."

Nolan stiffened, fingers unconsciously gripping the hem of his shirt.

That flicker in his eyes looked like he got caught doing something shady—or like someone had just peeked right into his head, exposing his thoughts. He honestly didn't know where to look or what to do.

Meanwhile, Isabelle, never one to hold back, went big and splurged on a whole international kidswear brand just to welcome the baby girl.

They’d seen the baby, delivered the gift—time to head out.

But as she turned around, she caught her son staring at the baby without blinking once. She raised a brow, curious. "Little Jue, isn’t that tiny Barlow girl just adorable?"

"..."

Nolan flinched at his mom’s voice and looked away fast.

He wasn’t one for emotions. Even having a normal convo with him took effort—trust her on that.

Seeing this, Isabelle's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Wanna hold little Ba for a bit?"

"..."

Nolan looked up at her, wide-eyed.

Could he?

"Don’t wanna? That’s fine," Isabelle shrugged.

She knew her son—no one could make that boy do anything he didn’t want. Push too hard and he’d snap.

So she let it drop and turned to her friend. "Antony, Vivian, we’ll head out now. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?"

Hearing that, Nolan lowered his head, lips pressed together.

He didn’t say no to holding her.

“Take care. And thank you,” Antony replied.

“Of course. You rest up,” Isabelle smiled.

“Come on, Jue. Let’s go.”When he got to the door, Nolan Hughes paused for a second, casually lifted his head, and glanced at the room number on the wall...