The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 2118

"Two months from now..."

Donald murmured softly, seeming to calculate his schedule for a moment before replying, "If there are no emergency ops, I should still be here."

"Once I wrap things up on my end, we'll coordinate. I can finally give you the baby gifts I've been holding onto for ages."

"Mhm."

They chatted for another minute before ending the call.

Right at that moment.

A sharp knock on the door was followed immediately by the piercing sound of Ophelia's wails.

The little girl cried with such heartbreak, it sounded like she had suffered the world's greatest injustice, her high-pitched shrieks practically rattling the walls.

"What happened?"

Charlotte opened the door and looked down at Helen. In her arms, Ophelia was red-faced and drenched in tears, bawling uncontrollably.

"It's my fault, I was too careless." Helen looked stricken, practically drowning in guilt. "I accidentally bumped Ophie's forehead while feeding her."

After that, the usually cheerful baby had absolutely refused to calm down.

Helen had rushed upstairs, terrified the bump was worse than it looked.

"Ma'am, I am so, so sorry." Helen held the baby, her own eyes brimming with tears, clearly heartbroken over the accident.

"She's not made of glass."

Charlotte quickly inspected her head. It was just a faint red mark, nothing serious. "Give her to me."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Helen let out a shaky breath of relief, carefully transferring the hysterical Ophelia into her mother's arms. "Ma'am, I'll go check on the young master now."

"Thank you."

Charlotte smiled warmly, shifting Ophelia so she was resting more comfortably against her chest.

"Waaah!"

The little baby, feeling terribly wronged, cried even harder now that she was with her mother. Giant, pearl-like tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks.

"Okay, okay."

Charlotte patted her back gently, a faint, rare softness touching her smile. "Why are you such a crybaby? Grandma Helen didn't do it on purpose."

"Waah..."

The tiny girl grabbed a fistful of her mother's shirt, staring up at her through tear-soaked lashes. Her little mouth hung open as she babbled pitifully, as if trying to tattle.

She had been so wronged.

Sniffle, sniffle.

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