Nia Mitchell clung to Maxwell Peary’s neck, pouting in frustration as she spoke. Maxwell Peary curled his lips into a smile. "Fine, I won’t bring it up." He, Maxwell Peary, would only marry once in his life, to a single wife. Maxwell Peary’s warm breath fanned across the tip of her ear, making her small face turn completely red. Nia Mitchell awkwardly pushed him away, straightened her clothes, and sat down properly. She inadvertently glanced at Maxwell Peary, who was sitting there. His lips were very red, and there was a distinct, small tooth mark on them. Seeing this, Nia Mitchell’s face instantly flushed scarlet. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⚫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⚫𝘯𝘦𝘵 "I... I’m going to go eat now." Nia Mitchell scrambled up and hurried out, her slippers going TAP-TAP-TAP. Halfway down the stairs, she happened to spot the butler in the Living Room. "Butler Frederick, is there any food left?" When only three steps remained, Nia Mitchell hopped down. "Oh dear, Young Madam, you must be careful! How can you just jump down like that?" Frederick Goldsmith rushed over to steady Nia Mitchell, his face full of worry. "It’s okay, it was only three steps." Nia Mitchell waved her hand nonchalantly; she’d even jumped five steps before, so three were nothing to her. Butler Frederick sighed. "Young Madam, you’re not the same as before. What if you happen to be carrying a little master?" The warmth had only just receded from Nia Mitchell’s face, but now, because of the butler’s words, it instantly flushed crimson again. "I... I’m not." They... they always took precautions whenever they... did *that*. She was only twenty; she didn’t want kids yet. And besides, Uncle Peary had agreed too. "Just because you aren’t now doesn’t mean you won’t be in the future. Young Madam," Butler Frederick advised, "you need to change this habit of jumping around. The Young Master will be thirty next year; having a child is bound to happen sooner or later." Nia Mitchell wanted to rebut but didn’t know what to say. "Young Madam must be hungry. Breakfast has been kept warm in the kitchen. I’ll go get it for you now." Knowing Nia Mitchell was thin-skinned, Frederick Goldsmith didn’t press the matter and went straight to the kitchen. Nia Mitchell was standing there alone when she heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. It was Maxwell Peary, also coming downstairs. He was dressed in a suit, looking as if he was about to go out. "Are you heading out?" Maxwell Peary nodded, adjusting his cufflinks as he walked down the stairs. "There are some matters at the Company that need my attention. Today is Friday. I’ll clear Saturday and Sunday... to spend with you." Maxwell Peary spoke the last two words just as he reached her side. Hearing the word "Sunday," Nia Mitchell’s heart gave a fierce thump. "Sunday... aren’t we... going to..." Maxwell Peary reached out and patted her head. "An ’ugly’ new wife eventually has to meet her in-laws. Nia, are you nervous?" He bent down slightly, bringing his head closer. "Besides, the wife I, Maxwell Peary, have chosen is not ugly at all." Flustered, Nia Mitchell swatted at him, though not with much force. Her action was less out of anger and more from acute embarrassment. "You should get to work! I’m going to eat." Nia Mitchell pushed him away and walked toward the Dining Hall on her own. Maxwell Peary followed, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her sit down quietly and sip her porridge. "Can you bring me lunch today?" Maxwell Peary sat beside Nia Mitchell, his chin resting in his hand, watching his little Rabina Mitchell drink her porridge. Nia Mitchell looked up, her large, limpid eyes sparkling. Without a second thought, she shook her head in refusal. "Uncle, don’t tease me. Jokes aren’t made like that. I still want that job."