That night, I mistakenly slept with the president.

"Ouch, demon, leave me alone." Soft cries echo through a room in an apartment. On a large white bed, a woman as delicate as a porcelain doll is curled up. She cries uncontrollably, her face, doll-like, streaked with tears and fear, stirring pity. The door soon opens, and three kids, one boy and two girls, enter. Despite being only about seven or eight, the boy has a remarkably mature look; his eyes reveal a wisdom beyond his years. It's unusual to see such grown-up expressions on the face of a six- or seven-year-old. Right now, his brows are deeply furrowed, worry filling his rare red eyes. The girls, equally pretty, share his concerned look. "Mommy, wake up, it's just a nightmare, don't be afraid," the boy whispers tenderly near the woman's ear. One girl softly touches the woman's face, while the other leans heavily on her. "Vivian, can't you be a bit lighter? You might hurt Mommy," Cathy chides her sister, annoyed. "I'm not heavy," the girl responds, sticking out her tongue playfully. "You're always the one who eats the most," Cathy can't help but remark. "That's because Mommy's food is so yummy," Vivian admits, a bit embarrassed. "Uh." Amelia, startled by the pressure, moans softly in pain and slowly opens her bleary eyes. Her eyes, moist and a bit red, blink in confusion. Seeing the three little angels who appeared unnoticed, she slowly sits up, confused, touches her tousled hair, and blinks her innocent eyes. "Why are you here? Did you miss my kisses?" She kisses each child on the cheek after speaking. Despite the horror of that night, she's overjoyed to have family again—three incredibly adorable children. The pain of their birth was intense, but seeing them wave their tiny hands and turn their lovely red eyes in the incubator made it all worthwhile. If not for that nightmarish night, she wouldn't have these three angels. Had her friend not mixed up the room numbers, would she have ever met these treasures? "Mommy, could you not leave so much saliva when you kiss us?" the kids complain in unison, wiping their damp cheeks, their eyes showing a touch of exasperation. "Darlings, you're all so adorable," she says, hugging them tightly, her laughter warm. "Mommy, we're really hungry," the boy says, his eyes sparkling. "Yeah, really hungry," the girls chime in. "What would you like to eat?" she asks, confident in her cooking skills, honed over years for her angels. "Curry rice," Sammy requests, his serious facade melting away. "I want pasta," Cathy says excitedly. "Cake, pudding, ice cream," Vivian lists, her face alight with anticipation. "Alright," Amelia nods gently, "Just wait for Mommy." She picks up some clothes and heads to the bathroom. As Amelia disappears, the innocence fades from the children's faces. "That man has arrived in M city," Sammy informs his sisters with a serious tone. In a resplendent building in the United States, within a grand, opulently designed room, sits a man of noble bearing on a black sofa. His long, muscular legs crossed, he leans back, one hand casually supporting himself on the armrest while his fingers thoughtfully trace his jawline. His other hand lies relaxed on the sofa. Partially closed eyes and slightly overlong bangs add a mysterious allure to his chiseled, handsome face, creating an irresistibly sexy demeanor. Clad in black, he seems to merge with the sofa, with a striking red earring in his left ear casting a seductive glow. Before him, a distinguished-looking man around thirty paces restlessly, his expression tangled with conflict. Seriously, why did the old lord task him with such a message? Couldn't the old lord just call if he needed to communicate something? Why involve him in this mess while on a getaway with the old lady? "Vern, if you're done pacing, maybe you could tell me why you're here," the seated man says, his eyes now open, revealing a captivating, ruby-red gaze that pierces the soul. "The old lord sent me to deliver some messages," Vern says, his face betraying his anxiety. "Go on." At the mention of the old lord, a flicker of confusion crosses the red-eyed man's face, quickly disappearing. "The old lord instructed me to say that on this trip to M city, you should bring back a daughter-in-law. He and the old lady are eager to hold their grandson." Vern's voice dwindles to a murmur under the intense gaze of the handsome man. His initial reaction was intense; what would happen with the next statement? "The old lord also mentioned that if you return from M city without a daughter-in-law, he's planning to set you up on arranged dates." Vern hesitantly shares what could infuriate the handsome man, feeling the air around him grow colder. Facing the icy glare of the handsome man, Vern feels almost resigned to his fate. "My trip to M city is meant to investigate the werewolf organization. If they expect me to entertain the idea of arranged dates, they might as well tell that old man to come back and assume the lordship himself," he states coldly, disdain clear in his eyes when he mentions the dates. At just thirty, he feels marriage can wait a few more years. To him, investigating the werewolf organization, a shadowy group known for its sophisticated technology and elusive operations, is far more pressing than settling down. This organization, shrouded in mystery since its inception two years ago, has captured the attention of global enterprises eager to ally with it. Despite the Donney family's significant resources and network of elites, he sees value in recruiting more tech savants to keep his adversaries off-balance and in turmoil. With challenges laid before him, refusing them is not an option.