Theodore’s patience had reached its absolute limit. When the nurse emerged with a tentative update, he didn't give her a chance to breathe. "Are you kidding me? First it's dangerous, now it's fine? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

The nurse shrank back, terrified. She had only come out to warn them that the doctors were prepared for a C-section, but the patient—the usually timid Little Bunny—had been adamant about a natural birth.

"It’s okay," Hannah stepped in, her voice a calming anchor. "Tell her we support whatever she chooses. No pressure, no burdens. Just get her through this."

The nurse nodded frantically and vanished back into the delivery room. Two more hours ticked by. Theodore paced the floor like a caged tiger. "That’s it! Do the C-section! Now!"

"Theodore, sit down," Laird commanded, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm worried, Dad! If anything happens to her or the baby—"

"If anything happens, it’ll be because you shouted it into existence!" Laird barked. "Shut up!"

Theodore slumped into a chair, looking like a scolded child. But a moment later, the screaming from inside the room stopped. The silence was deafening. Theodore jumped up, his face pale. "Why is she quiet? Is she dead? Did they both die?"

The door swung open. Theodore rushed the nurse. "Is it over? Do I have to choose who to save? The mother or the baby?"

"No, no..." the nurse stammered, trying to catch her breath. "It's a boy. Mother and baby are both healthy."

The air left Theodore’s lungs in one giant rush. The exploding rage vanished, replaced by a dazed silence. A moment later, a second nurse walked out carrying a small, swaddled bundle.

"Little Bunny’s family?"

"Me!" Theodore scrambled over. He looked down at the tiny, wrinkled face and blinked. "He... he looks like a little monkey."

Hannah’s "prophecy" about a beautiful baby seemed to have failed him. Theodore stared at his son with genuine confusion. "Are you sure this is the right baby? How can he be so ugly?"

The hallway went silent. The nurse looked offended. "All newborns look like this, Mr. Wold. Actually, he’s quite handsome compared to most!"

"Really?" Theodore sounded skeptical.

Laird couldn't watch his son’s incompetence any longer. "Give him to me, you idiot."

Theodore handed the baby over. Laird, the man known for his iron heart and cold exterior, took the child into his arms. And then, it happened. A wide, genuine smile broke across Laird’s face—a sight so rare that even Oscar and Manuel exchanged stunned glances.

"I’m your grandpa," Laird cooed, his voice turning incredibly tender.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "I’ve been your son for thirty years and I’ve never heard that voice. He’s an ugly monkey and you’re treating him like royalty."

"You were the ugly one!" Laird snapped, his eyes flashing with their usual fire before softening again as he looked back at the baby. "You didn't look half this good when you were born."