Meanwhile, in a grand mansion on the eastern edge of the city, Kristoff mirrored the quiet tenderness unfolding elsewhere.
Half reclining in a rocking chair, he held baby Alexander against his chest, the infant sleeping peacefully to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Kristoff’s large hand rested protectively on the baby’s small back, rising and falling with each calm breath, while the soft glow of the room wrapped them in a rare moment of stillness and warmth.
At that moment, the nursery door creaked open softly, and Charlotte stepped inside. The warm golden light from the bedside lamp bathed the room in a gentle glow, illuminating the breathtaking sight before her.
Kristoff sat in the oversized chair, his tall frame relaxed for once, his head tilted back slightly as baby Alexander slept soundly against his chest. One of Kristoff’s large hands rested securely on the baby’s tiny back, instinctively protective even in sleep.
The contrast between the powerful man and the fragile infant was enough to melt anyone’s heart.
Charlotte stopped in the doorway, utterly captivated.
For a long moment, she simply watched them in silence, her chest tightening at the rare tenderness on Kristoff’s usually cold and intimidating face. It was a side of him the world never saw.
Unable to resist, she quietly pulled out her cellphone and captured the scene.
The photo looked almost ethereal—soft lighting, peaceful expressions, and the unmistakable warmth of father and son.
Smiling to herself, Charlotte uploaded it to her social media account with the caption:
The men in my life: Kristoff and baby Alex.Aren’t they the loveliest pair?
Within seconds, notifications began flooding her screen.
Likes multiplied rapidly. Shares climbed by the minute. Comments poured in endlessly from shocked fans and envious socialites alike, all stunned by the sight of the famously ruthless Kristoff looking so gentle and domestic.
Socialites, celebrities, and business elites alike could not believe they were seeing the notoriously cold and untouchable Kristoff cradling a baby with such heartbreaking tenderness.
Charlotte chuckled softly before walking over to him.
Leaning down beside the chair, she rested her head lightly against Kristoff’s shoulder and snapped another selfie, making sure sleeping baby Alex remained perfectly in frame. This time, the photo felt even more intimate—like a glimpse into a perfect little family hidden behind the walls of the mansion.
The moment Charlotte posted the second photo, the internet practically erupted.
Notifications flooded in nonstop. Likes skyrocketed within seconds, comments multiplied endlessly, and the repost count climbed so fast it became impossible to keep up.
But inside the nursery, none of that noise existed.
The room remained wrapped in quiet warmth and soft golden light.
Then baby Alexander stirred restlessly against Kristoff’s chest, letting out a faint whimper in his sleep.
The movement immediately woke Kristoff.
His eyes opened slowly, still heavy with exhaustion, but the moment he felt the baby shifting, his entire attention focused on Alexander.
Without a trace of impatience, he began gently patting the baby’s tiny back, his large hand moving in slow, soothing motions.
The contrast was striking—a man feared by countless people handling the infant with unbelievable care, as though Alexander was the most precious thing in the world.
The soft patting soon calmed the baby again.
Then Kristoff sensed something...another presence in the nursery.
His hand stilled slightly as his gaze lifted toward this side.
Standing to his left was the silhouette of a young woman.
For a moment, Kristoff simply stared, almost as if he thought he was dreaming.
His expression changed instantly—shock, disbelief, and something dangerously close to longing flashing across his face.
His lips parted slowly.
"...Isobel?"
...
The instant the name left Kristoff’s lips, Charlotte froze.
Isobel.
Her face drained of color so quickly it was almost frightening. Beneath her polished composure, something dark and vicious twisted violently inside her chest. Her manicured nails dug deep into her palms until sharp pain shot through her hands, warm blood beading against her skin.
So Kristoff was still thinking about that woman..
Even now...
He lied to her.
Charlotte’s jaw tightened.
For one brief moment, pure hatred flashed through her eyes—raw, poisonous, and consuming. She despised Isobel with every fiber of her being.
She hated the way Kristoff could still mistake another woman for her after all this time.
She hated the invisible place Isobel continued to occupy in his heart without even trying.
Most of all, Charlotte hated that she could never truly erase her.
But the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared.
By the time she stepped closer, her lips were already curved into a graceful smile.
"It’s me," she said softly, forcing warmth into her voice. "Charlotte."
The realization hit Kristoff instantly.
His expression changed at once, horror flashing across his face as if he had committed an unforgivable mistake.
Careful not to disturb the sleeping baby, he rose quickly from the chair.
"I’m sorry, Charie," he said hurriedly. "From that angle... you looked like her."
The explanation only made Charlotte’s jealousy burn hotter.
Her.
Not even Isobel’s name needed to be spoken anymore. She existed so deeply in his memory that a mere silhouette was enough to shake him.
Charlotte wanted to scream.
She wanted to demand why he still remembered Isobel so clearly. She wanted to destroy every trace of that woman from his life.
But instead, she smiled sweeter.
Slowly, she stepped closer until only a small distance separated them. Tilting her head slightly, she looked up at him through lowered lashes, her voice turning soft and seductive.
"Then tell me," she murmured, "who’s more beautiful? Me... or her?"
Kristoff answered without hesitation.
"Of course it’s you."
The reply came instantly, almost automatically.
But somewhere deep inside, beneath the practiced words and forced certainty, Kristoff knew he was lying.
Because no matter how stunning Charlotte was, no matter how perfect she appeared beside him, the image that had frozen his heart moments ago was still Isobel standing against a backdrop of warm light.
Still Isobel.
Always Isobel.
Charlotte, however, saw none of the conflict hidden behind his eyes.
Her face blossomed into a radiant smile, satisfaction flooding through her veins like sweet poison.
She knew it.
In the end, Kristoff would always choose her.