the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 532: The Demon King Hun of the Howard Family holding

Outside the ward, Richard Shaw glanced at the half-open door, listening to the soft, gentle voices inside. He spoke calmly, "She’s awake. Let’s leave. If Delphine Carter sees us, she’ll just get worked up and angry—it’s not good for her health."

The man leaned against the stark white wall, silent, his handso face shrouded in an aura of cold detachnt that warned strangers away.

Arthur White stepped forward and said quietly, "Mr. Leclair, the baby has been sent to the Howard Family. The matriarch has asked you to co over."

Ignatius Leclair responded with indifference, rose, and made his way to the Howard Family. As he passed by the ward, the woman’s soft, frail voice floated out: "Once I’m feeling better, I’ll take the eldest child and leave."

The man’s deep phoenix eyes flickered with a hint of an inscrutable emotion before he left expressionlessly.

In the Imperial City, the aristocratic families were nurous. The Shaw Family was most renowned for its military achievents, while the Howard Family wielded the widest influence in politics. The Howard Family’s ancestors included several literary luminaries, and in the modern era, they were among the first to study abroad, making them true intellectual pioneers. If the Shaw Family was rooted in martial heritage, then the Howard Family was steeped in literary tradition.

The Howard Family boasted nurous descendants, along with its many branches, making it a lively and bustling clan. The matriarch, for her part, was warm and kind—a grandmotherly figure full of affection.

The matriarch’s greatest regret in life was marrying off her daughter, Lara Howard, to the South Seas—a region far-removed from the central authority, filled with stringent traditions and a tangled web of old aristocratic ties. After her daughter settled in the United Kingdom with her grandson and rarely returned to the Imperial City, she fell terminally ill at a young age. This effectively severed the marital bond between the Howard and Leclair families.

If not for the outstanding talent of her grandson, whom the old man of the Leclair Family guarded with fierce possessiveness, as if daring anyone to challenge him, the matriarch would have long since called the boy back to the Imperial City.

Even when her grandson had a child, the old man kept the matter tightly under wraps, nearly driving the matriarch to fury.

Deeply fond of children, the matriarch’s affection for the little ones grew stronger with age. She adored watching these tiny, soft bundles toddling about. When the baby was sent to the Howard Family, she had been waiting by the door with several younger family mbers, looking forward to the mont. As soon as she held the little child in her arms, her eyes brimd with tears.

After all, she had thought her grandson would be a bachelor for life. She hadn’t expected him to already have a child.

In an instant, the matriarch rallied the entire household, sending everyone into a frenzy of movent catering to this new little family mber, ensuring the baby felt utterly at ease.

When Ignatius Leclair arrived at the Howard Family estate, the family’s resident "Demon King Hun," Yeats Howard, was leaning by the door, smoking a cigarette with a mischievous grin.

What a feat—this uncle of his had said nothing and suddenly fathered two children, even sending the mother to prison. People called him the Demon King Hun, but with this uncle around, he realized he had no rank; he might as well shrink into the corner.

Seeing the man descend from the car with an imposing deanor and icy expression, Yeats Howard quickly swapped his grin for a pained grimace and sighed, "Uncle, when you kneel in the family shrine later, I’ll send you a cushion. With you here, Great-Grandma won’t be asking , this disaster-child, for anything anyti soon."

Ignatius Leclair shot a chilly glance at Yeats Howard, who was trying hard to hold back his laughter, and replied flatly, "Don’t worry. Just make sure you take good care of your baby sister—she’s less than two months old."

Yeats Howard cursed under his breath. Great hierarchies weighed one down—how was this two-month-old baby calling him ’brother’? What would his own child have to call this baby in the future?

Scratching his head, Yeats Howard’s grimace beca truly forlorn. This wasn’t a baby—it was practically a little ancestor co to rule his life.