His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 602 Baby’s name

After they reached the airport, everyone moved together toward the private jet. The mountain air had been left behind, replaced by the familiar smell of tarmac and aviation fuel. The jet stood ready, sleek and imposing, its engines making a soft sound as they boarded.

The flight back to City A was long but peaceful. Some slept. Others stared out the windows at the clouds. Dom and Jason bickered quietly until Jason fell asleep mid sentence. Hazel watched the sky and thought about things she had not let herself think about in years.

By the time they landed, exhaustion had settled into everyone’s bones.

Cars were waiting. The convoy moved through the city, familiar streets passing by like a welcome home.

When they finally reached the estate, Bella could barely keep her eyes open.

She walked through the front door on autopilot, her hand loosely holding Leo’s. The house was quiet. The staff had prepared everything but knew better than to greet them tonight.

Bella did not even bother changing.

She walked straight to the bedroom, climbed onto the bed in her clothes, and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Leo stood watching her. The soft rise and fall of her breathing. The way her hand had instinctively reached for his side of the bed even in sleep.

He was tired too. More tired than he would admit.

He toed off his shoes, removed his jacket, and lay down beside her. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.

Within minutes, he was asleep too.

Elsewhere in the house, Hazel made her way to the room she had used before. It was simple but comfortable, a bed, a window, space to breathe. She sat on the edge of the mattress, running her fingers over the fabric and letting the quiet settle around her.

Home. Sort of.

Down the hall, Dom was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Guest room," he whispered to Jason as they followed a staff member through the corridor. "Beside Hazel. Did you hear that? Beside her."

Jason yawned so wide his jaw cracked. "I heard. You’ve mentioned it seventeen times."

"Because it’s important."

"It’s really not."

The staff member opened a door. "This will be your room, Mr. King. Mr. Vale, you’re sharing."

Dom peeked inside. It was nice, a comfortable bed, clean lines, and a window overlooking the garden.

Then he looked next door.

Hazel’s room.

His heart did a little flip.

Jason shoved past him and collapsed onto the bed. "Mine. I’m claiming this side. Don’t talk to me until morning."

Dom barely heard him. He was still staring at the wall separating him from Hazel.

Just a wall.

That was all.

Across the house, Jay and Jace made their way to their own room, tired.

Next day

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the nursery, painting the room in soft golden warmth. The space was beautiful, walls painted a gentle cream, a hand carved crib in the corner, shelves lined with stuffed animals and tiny books. A mobile of silver stars hung above the crib, turning slowly in the morning breeze.

But nothing compared to what was happening right now.

Archer sat in the plush armchair near the window, his son cradled carefully in his arms. The baby was awake, tiny eyes blinking up at him with that unfocused newborn gaze. His little hand had curled around Archer’s finger, holding on with surprising strength.

"Aww, my little cutie," Archer cooed, his voice dropping to a soft, adoring whisper. He lifted the baby and pressed kiss after kiss to the impossibly small forehead. "My sweet baby. My perfect little boy."

The baby made a small sound, not a cry, just a tiny noise, and Archer’s whole face lit up.

"Yes, yes, I know," he murmured, rocking gently. "You’re telling me all about your dreams, aren’t you? Tell me more."

He kissed the baby again. Then again, like he could not get enough.

Behind him, Alexa stood in the doorway, watching.

Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest, her expression complicated.

She looked down at herself.

Her body was different now. The pregnancy had left marks, stretch marks across her stomach, a slight softness where there used to be firmness.

Her figure had changed. The sensuality she had carefully cultivated, the weapon she had wielded so effectively, felt blunted.

She watched Archer kiss the baby again, whispering something too soft for her to hear.

He had not even noticed she was there.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat softly.

Archer looked up. His expression changed, not cold, but guarded and protective.

"Alexa. Good morning."

She stepped into the room, moving closer to look at the baby. He really was beautiful. Tiny and perfect, with a dusting of dark hair and those blue eyes that matched his father’s.

"He’s cute," she admitted.

"He’s perfect." Archer’s voice softened again as he looked down at the baby. "Absolutely perfect."

Alexa stood beside him, watching. The baby’s tiny hand was still wrapped around Archer’s finger.

"He needs a name," she said.

Archer nodded slowly. "He does." He looked up at her, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve been thinking about it. For months, actually."

"What names did you consider?"

"Alexander. Classic. Strong." He paused. "Daxter, after my grandfather. Maximilian, Max for short. Sebastian. Nathaniel." He glanced at the baby, then back at her. "But one kept coming back to me."

Alexa waited.

"Adrian," Archer said softly. "It means ’dark one.’ But it also means ’rich’ and ’wealthy.’ Strong. Elegant. Handsome." He looked at the baby with pure adoration. "Adrian Wyatt."

Alexa tested the name in her mind. Adrian. It was handsome. Distinguished. The kind of name that would look good on magazine covers and business cards.

"Adrian," she repeated slowly. Then a small nod. "I like it."

Archer’s eyes lit up, just slightly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It suits him."

Archer looked back at the baby, a real smile spreading across his face. "Did you hear that, little one? You’re Adrian. Adrian Wyatt."

The baby made another tiny sound, and Archer laughed, a genuine, warm laugh that transformed his usually stern features.

"See? He likes it."

Alexa watched them for a moment. Father and son. The picture of domestic bliss.

Then, carefully, she said, "About the photo shoot..."

Archer’s expression cooled almost imperceptibly. "What about it?"