Caught by the Mad Alpha King Chapter 431: Softened

For half a heartbeat the room braced for impact.

Then Cressida’s expression softened in the way that ant she had decided Chris was still entertaining enough to keep alive.

"Do you know," she said, voice calm as polished steel, "that I didn’t co all the way here to argue with you in front of children?"

Chris’s brows lifted. "You didn’t?"

Cressida’s gaze flicked sharply and rcilessly toward the foam fort, the plush tribunal, and Zion’s toy car, which remained raised as a threat to national stability.

"I ca," she said, "to et my grandson."

Dax’s eyes ward in the way they did when soone tried to be formal and failed beautifully.

Chris made a sound in his throat like he was swallowing both pride and laughter. "He’s not—"

"Don’t," Cressida interrupted, without looking away from Nero. "Don’t you dare say sothing sentintal."

Chris blinked, offended on principle. "I wasn’t going to."

Serathine humd, delighted. "He absolutely was."

"I was going to say," Chris continued, pointing as if evidence would save him, "that he’s currently stuck to Dax."

Nero chose that mont to make a pleased, bubbly noise and clutch Dax’s shirt tighter, as if confirming the accusation with a signed decree.

Dax glanced down at his son with solemn approval. "Correct."

Cressida stepped forward.

Not with the sharpness she’d entered with, not like a matriarch arriving to inspect an empire.

This was slower. asured. Almost... careful.

Which, in the language of won like her, translated to this: it matters more than she’ll ever admit.

Serathine moved as well, drifting in alongside Cressida with that bright, predatory grace of hers, eyes already sparkling like she’d found a new hobby.

"Oh," Serathine said softly, staring at Nero, "he’s perfect."

Trevor made a strangled noise that might have been agreent or fear. "Don’t say that. You’ll jinx it."

Serathine didn’t even blink. "Trevor, darling, I’m the jinx."

Cressida ignored them.

She stopped in front of Dax and Nero, expression unreadable, but her hands, for the first ti since she’d entered, weren’t posed for war. They hovered like she was deciding what was allowed.

Dax didn’t offer Nero imdiately.

He angled his body a little, adjusting Nero’s weight, opening the space the way a king opened doors: without asking permission, but with quiet control.

Cressida’s eyes flicked to Dax’s face.

Then her gaze dropped back to Nero.

"Hello," she said.

Nero stared at her with the solemn intensity of a baby who had no idea who she was but understood, instinctively, that she was important.

His purple eyes were too vivid for his small face. His cheeks were flushed from being passed through a room full of noise and affection. His hand was still locked on Dax’s shirt, like Dax’s torso was his designated habitat.

Cressida’s mouth twitched.

"He has your eyes," Serathine murmured, aiming it at Dax like a complint and at Chris like a dagger.

Chris scoffed. "He has my attitude."

Nero gurgled, then imdiately made a tiny, offended sound like he’d heard Chris speak and wished to object.

Dax said, deadpan, "He disagrees."

Mia, perched like she belonged on a throne even in a private lounge, watched Cressida with open fascination. "Are you going to hold him?"

Cressida’s gaze didn’t lift. "Yes."

Chris imdiately stiffened. "No."

Dax’s head turned slowly. "Yes."

Chris stared at his husband like betrayal was a physical act. "You can’t just—"

"I can," Dax said gently, and because he was Dax, it sounded like both reassurance and threat. "Watch."

Cressida held out her hands.

Chris looked like he wanted to argue with the entire concept of handing his infant to a woman who could probably bully a storm into moving around her estate.

But Serathine’s hand touched his elbow lightly.

"He’ll be fine," Serathine murmured, soft enough for only Chris to hear. "And she’ll pretend she isn’t going to cry."

Chris’s eyes snapped to her. "She doesn’t cry."

Serathine’s smile turned wicked. "Oh, darling. Everyone cries. So people just have better posture while doing it."

Cressida’s gaze flicked up at Chris.

Sothing in her heart softened for a single beat, as if she was acknowledging but not succumbing to his panic.

Then she looked back at Nero.

Dax leaned forward and transferred his son with the ease of soone who had carried power in his arms before and didn’t treat it like sothing fragile.

Nero left Dax’s chest.

His face scrunched for a terrifying second, as confusion grew and betrayal was imminent.

Cressida adjusted him instantly, firm and practiced, supporting his back and head like she’d done it her whole life, even if she’d rather die than say so.

Nero blinked.

Stared at her.

Then, very slowly, he reached up and grabbed the lapel of Cressida’s immaculate dark jacket with the sa possessive authority he used on Dax.

Cressida froze.

The entire room froze with her, because watching Cressida Fitzgeralt get claid by a baby was the kind of mont that rewired history.

Cressida looked down at Nero’s tiny hand in her fabric.

Then she exhaled, so quietly it almost didn’t exist.

And she said, in a voice that barely held steady, "Bold."

Nero rewarded her with a happy gurgle and imdiately tried to shove her lapel toward his mouth, as if testing whether she was edible.

Serathine made a sound of pure delight. "Oh, he’s going to ruin you."

Cressida’s eyes narrowed without heat. "I am unruinable."

Nero sneezed.

A tiny, wet, violent little thing right against Cressida’s chest.

Cressida stared down at the damp spot forming on her jacket.

Then she did sothing nobody expected. She laughed.

"Great," Chris muttered, half relieved, half horrified. "He’s already committing cris."

Dax watched Cressida with that still, attentive calm he only wore when sothing mattered. "He approves."

Andrew murmured, delighted, "This is the best day of my life."

Cressida adjusted Nero again, wiping the sneeze with a competence that suggested she had, at so point, raised at least one child while also running a household like a battlefield.

"He’s beautiful," she said simply.