Chapter 2

"Here, hold Bian. Mom has to go. Oh gosh, I'm already late." Mrs. Bimantara—Rosa—handed the six-month-old baby right off into her youngest son's arms, which Adrian instinctively caught.

A baby! A whole actual baby!

His mom had casually dumped Bian on him—that is what they called him, since Abian felt a bit too long—without a second thought and rushed off, muttering about being late. Argh! Why did it always have to be Adrian holding or babysitting the kid whenever his mom wanted to leave?

"Mom! I didn't take the day off to be Bian's nanny!" Adrian shouted in protest. Ugh! He had specifically taken a day off to rest, not to watch this chubby little guy who didn't even fuss or complain when handed off to his father.

Abian was certainly a cheerful and energetic baby, but he was far from high-maintenance. The cute little thing just loved being held, so whoever picked him up would just get a quiet chuckle and a calm baby. Hmph, he would be way too easy to kidnap.

Rosa turned around upon hearing her youngest son's outburst. "Then who's supposed to watch Bian? The housekeepers are busy. Your father has a meeting, Adnan has a client consultation, and I have to meet a client right now, too!"

"But..."

"No buts! Watch Bian. Don't forget to fix his bottle and change his diaper!" the lady of the house warned before hurrying out the door.

How am I supposed to do all that? That's a mother's job! Adrian grumbled internally. Good grief, how did today turn out like this? He had planned to kick back and relax, but instead, he was stuck babysitting—even if Abian was completely chill in his arms.

The Bimantaras were truly a busy family. Every single one of them had a career. Adnan and Adrian worked at the company founded by their father, Agam Bimantara. As for what kind of company it was, well, you would have to ask them. Rosa ran her own business too: a wedding planning firm and gallery. When a client booked her, she could be tied up right until the big day—or for weeks at a time.

They employed three live-in housekeepers and a few day-workers, but each of them already had their hands full with household chores—there was no way they could be saddled with baby care, too. Over the last few days, Rosa had not been busy, so she was able to watch Bian. Today was a different story, though, after she got a call from a client wanting her wedding planning services.

"I'll hire a babysitter for Bian, okay?" The idea popped right out of the youngest Bimantara's mouth.

That made his mother stop in her tracks once more. She turned around, looking at Adrian with stars in her eyes. "Good job! Great idea. But I'm going to interview the candidates later, okay? Bye!" And off she went, leaving Adrian behind.

The youngest son sighed. He walked to the living room—right in the center of the house—and sat down on the sofa, leaning his back against the cushions. The baby shifted from his chest down to his lap, propped up against Adrian's stomach, since Bian could not sit up on his own yet.

"Alright..." Adrian pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen on. The glow caught Bian's attention, his eyes glued to the black object in his father's hand. "Let's post an ad to find you a babysitter," he said.

Baby Bian just watched quietly, his focus locked onto the fascinating phone screen. He tracked every movement as Adrian shifted the device around. Every now and then, Bian would pat his own legs and giggle silently at the novel sight.

The youngest son opened a job app he had recently downloaded and filled out the ad creation fields—setting requirements for applicants and providing a contact number. Since his mom wanted to conduct the interviews, he put down her contact details. However, Adrian omitted the Bimantara residential address, fearing that whoever called or showed up might not be interested in the job, but rather in harassing their family.

Ah, to Adrian, the behavior of people—especially women—who swooned over him was nothing short of harassment. Ahem. The Bimantaras were a prominent family in the public eye, frequently making headlines in news outlets and online media. He despised having his personal life pried into and splashed across the news. With their good looks, the family naturally drew a lot of attention, but the youngest hated being the subject of gossip in any shape or form.

"Okay, all done." Adrian slipped his phone back into his pocket. He did not notice the baby on his lap following his hand movement as he pocketed the phone, causing Bian to lean further and further sideways until he tumbled onto the sofa cushions beside him.

Huh?

Bian did not cry. Instead, the baby burst into a silent laugh. He tried wriggling and squirming to roll over, but had no luck. He stayed stuck just as he had landed, face down on the sofa. "Mm! Mmm!" Bian grunted, frustrated at being stuck.

"Haha..." Adrian gave a soft laugh, picking up the tiny body and setting him back on his lap, face-to-face this time. "Can't flip yourself back over, huh?"

The chubby baby's mouth stretched wide, revealing toothless gums. Bian looked utterly delighted, bouncing his body up and down on his father's thighs.

A faint smile touched the youngest's lips. Sure, he had not fully accepted Bian as his son yet; he could not quite wrap his head around the idea that this baby was a Bimantara through him. But... that did not mean he was going to be cold or shun Bian. This chubby-cheeked little squishy was just a baby who understood nothing; it would not be right to avoid him. At the very least, Adrian would treat him with basic human decency, like someone with a conscience, a mind, and feelings.

Yeah... hanging out with this easygoing little chubby guy was not half bad after all.

**

She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, repeating the motion several times to calm her erratic heartbeat while gazing at the grand mansion beyond the gates. Despite her efforts to stay composed, her pulse raced even faster as she spotted a security guard in uniform at the gatehouse. Bia closed her eyes briefly, offered a silent prayer, took one more breath, and walked over to the guard booth.

"E-Excuse me, sir," she called out to the burly man in the security uniform typical of high-end estates and wealthy homes.

The man leaned down so his face was visible through the small window of his booth. "Yes?"

"I-I'm here to apply for a job. I heard the homeowners are looking for a babysitter," Bia explained nervously. Truth be told, she had only heard about the opening through word of mouth. She had no idea if they were actually still hiring or if the spot was already filled—or if she had misheard or misunderstood entirely. But showing up to confirm was what mattered most right now.

"Oh, hold on a second, miss. Let me check," the security guard said, turning away.

Bia watched the large man—intimidating at first glance because of his tall, muscular frame, though surprisingly gentle in tone—make a phone call. He was likely verifying her story. Before long, the guard returned to the window.

"I confirmed it. Give me a second to open the gate," the security guard said very politely.

The grand gate standing in front of the woman with her long hair pulled back into a ponytail slowly slid open on its own. Bia let out a breath, trying once more to steady her nerves—especially as the gate parted to reveal a massive mansion with a sprawling front lawn. Bia swallowed hard. She made it this far. Just a few more steps to go.

"Go right on in, miss," the guard said, stepping out near his booth and gesturing for the simply dressed young woman to enter.

Bia nodded. "Thank you, sir," she said, turning her focus back to the imposing mansion ahead. How many times had she exhaled, inhaled, and taken deep breaths since arriving here in this neighborhood of massive estates for the ultra-wealthy? Her heart, which had almost settled down, began racing wildly again. Adjusting the heavy duffel bag slung over her shoulder—the kind athletes usually carry—she braced herself.

One step. She took it. Two steps. Step after step followed—she lost count—until she crossed the courtyard. Bia had to climb three steps to reach the front porch. She walked a bit further and finally stood before a massive brown door with a handle that was probably iron—or whatever, she did not know and did not care to guess. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand and pressed the small button she assumed was the doorbell. That was usually how it worked, right?