Sophia Laurent traced the rim of her teacup with her fingertips before looking up at Evelyn Grandelle. "Mom, did you do genetic testing when you underwent IVF?"

Evelyn set down the baby bottle she was holding and nodded gently. "A full panel."

"Could it detect neurological risks?"

Understanding dawned in Evelyn's eyes as she smiled. "I consulted three specialists. They all confirmed it wasn't congenital mental illness—the hereditary probability was negligible."

Sophia's tense shoulders finally relaxed.

Her gaze drifted to Ethan Sullivan playing with Grace Laurent. Though they'd used frozen sperm, the memory of his childhood illness at four still weighed on her heart.

The doorbell chimed abruptly.

A maid ushered Victor Sullivan and Audrey Sullivan into the living room. Audrey wore a Chanel suit, towering on ten-inch Jimmy Choos, her million-dollar Birkin dangling from one arm. Victor resembled a walking gift rack, laden with packages.

"Evelyn, my sincerest apologies for not visiting sooner," Victor said, setting down the gifts and wiping nonexistent sweat from his brow.

Audrey smiled. "Audrey visits often. You're too kind."

Victor's eyes locked onto Grace, rubbing his hands eagerly. "Sophia, may I hold the baby?"

Sophia stifled a laugh as she carefully handed over the infant.

"Don't worry—I'm an expert," Victor cradled the baby with practiced ease. "I raised Ethan, and when Natalie was born—"

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Here we go again."

Ignoring her, Victor made silly faces at the baby, amusing himself to no end.

"Audrey, doesn't she look just like Natalie did at this age?"

Audrey replied coolly, "Children resembling their parents is natural."

"I meant equally adorable," Victor quickly amended. "When Sophia and Ethan have their own—"

Sophia's smile froze.

Ethan cut in sharply, "Didn't Isabella Valentine give birth?"

Victor blinked, then burst into laughter. "That wasn't a Sullivan heir."

In the following weeks, Sophia secretly began a rigorous fertility regimen—three acupuncture sessions and two moxibustion treatments weekly, packing her schedule tightly.

During one visit to the traditional clinic, she encountered Margaret Sullivan receiving therapy.

"Six years and still no results?" Margaret's critical gaze swept over Sophia's abdomen. "In the old days, women like you—"

"My husband loves me unconditionally." Sophia's light retort instantly darkened Margaret's expression.

That evening at the Sullivan family dinner, Margaret remarked snidely, "Other families expect their daughters-in-law to—"

"Eat!" Victor slammed a plate of duck tongues onto the table. "Another word and you'll leave!"

Eleanor Sullivan pinched her son's ear in astonishment. "Are you really Victor?"

"Of course!" Victor pounded the table. "Sophia is family. No one speaks ill of her!"

Three months later, outside the hospital operating room.

Ethan gripped Sophia's hand. "Don't stress. Even if—"

"This time is different," Sophia interrupted with a smile. "I can feel it."

The first attempt failed.

Yet Sophia calmly proceeded with a second round.

Until the morning when two clear lines appeared on the pregnancy test, bringing instant tears to her eyes.

Down the hospital corridor, Sophia sprinted with the test results clutched in her hand, light as a fawn.

"Ethan!" She thrust the paper into his hands. "I'm pregnant!"

Ethan studied the report, his lips gradually curving upward. His smile was like winter's thaw, eyes brimming with starlight.

Sophia stared at him, stunned. "You... you're okay now?"