Marcus's POV
1 jolted awake to Benedict's cries piercing the darkness. My body ached with exhaustion, but instinct propelled me upright before my mind fully surfaced from sleep. The door creaked open immediately, revealing Peter Reed's concerned face.
"Mr. Murphy, is the young master hungry?" he asked, his usually stoic expression softened with genuine concern.
I glanced at the digital clock, noting it was precisely 2:13 AM. A small smile tugged at my lips-my son already had his own schedule. "Probably," I murmured, pushing myself out of bed and padding toward the crib.
The moment I lifted Benedict, a surge of unfamiliar responsibility washed over me. His tiny body trembled slightly against my chest, his cries growing more insistent. I gently checked his diaper, feeling the dampness through the fabric.
"He needs a change," I announced, still marveling at how naturally these words now came from the same mouth that once only discussed market takeovers and asset acquisitions.
