The setting sun cast its golden glow across half the sky.

Sophia stood by the studio window, her brush lightly tracing bamboo stalks on rice paper. The ink strokes formed elegant, upright bamboos, their leaves swaying with lifelike grace.

Bamboo was her specialty.

With each stroke, she channeled its resilience and nobility.

Setting down the brush after the final touch, she stretched her aching back.

Outside, sunlight danced on the river’s shimmering surface.

A sudden burst of pop-pop sounds came from the garden.

Sophia leaned out to look.

Victor Sullivan was directing bodyguards to set off fireworks. Colorful confetti rained down, blanketing the emerald lawn like a vibrant carpet.

"What’s all this about?" she murmured to herself.

Soon, Victor arrived with armfuls of gifts.

"Careful, careful!" he fretted the moment she descended the stairs. "You’re the Sullivan family’s top priority now!"

Sophia stifled a laugh.

Ever since learning of her pregnancy, her father-in-law treated her like fragile porcelain.

"Dad, you’re overdoing it."

"Not at all!" He waved his hands frantically. "I’ve already ordered anti-slip rugs for the staircase—they’ll be installed tomorrow."

The doorbell chimed.

Natalie Sullivan burst in and threw her arms around Sophia. "Sis! I’m going to be an aunt!"

Victor yanked her back. "Gently, gently!"

"Dad, you’re ridiculous." Natalie rolled her eyes before eagerly grabbing Sophia’s hand. "I’m going to sing lullabies to my nephew!"

She cleared her throat theatrically: "Aunts are the best in the world..."

Sophia couldn’t help but chuckle.

The father-daughter duo were cut from the same cloth.

At dusk, Ethan returned home to find his sister singing against his wife’s belly.

"Natalie." He hauled her up by the collar, his expression icy. "Take the concert elsewhere."

"You’re so controlling!" she protested. "This is prenatal education!"

Sophia mediated with a smile. "She sings beautifully."

Ethan sighed in defeat.

The sisters-in-law had formed an alliance.

That weekend, Victor stormed through the children’s section of a department store.

"This, this, and that—wrap them all." He pointed at the most expensive cribs and smart bassinets.

Sales staff scrambled to keep up.

Suddenly, Vincent Valentine materialized beside him.

"Fancy meeting you here, old friend." He offered a cigarette with a smile.

Victor declined. "Quit."

Vincent’s gaze lingered on the baby items. "Shopping for someone?"

"For Shane’s future children." Victor’s poker face didn’t waver.

Vincent’s smile stiffened.

After exchanging pleasantries, they parted ways.

Back in his car, Vincent’s expression darkened.

"Old fox!" He slammed the steering wheel.

That night, in his study, Vincent dialed a mysterious number.

"Any updates?" he whispered.

"Adrian’s been frequenting psychiatrists," the voice replied. "Though he uses his driver as cover, I suspect he’s the patient."

Vincent’s eyes gleamed.

Hanging up, he immediately called Shane.

"Great news! Adrian might have mental issues, and Ethan’s health is shaky. The Sullivans’ future rests on you!"

A long silence followed.

"I’m sick too," Shane finally said, his voice cold.

"What illness?" Vincent’s chest tightened.

"Brother-protector syndrome." Shane enunciated each word. "Terminal. No cure."

Vincent clutched his phone, speechless.