Initially, the charade was a masterpiece of medical theater. Dr. Yang, channeling the serene confidence of a man who delivered fabricated miracles daily, gestured to the screen with a practiced, benevolent smile.
"Mr. Qin," he began, his voice a smooth, calming baritone. "Everything appears to be progressing perfectly. The fetuses are approximately thirteen weeks along, and all their vital signs look strong and healthy. A textbook case, really."
Cassian gave a slow, deliberate nod, his gaze still locked on the screen, his expression unreadable but for that faint, almost imperceptible smile. Everly was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter, her mind a chaotic chorus of victory chants.
Take that, world! I faked an entire quintuplet pregnancy! I am a criminal mastermind!
They all stared, transfixed by the grainy, black-and-white ballet on the monitor. The five little shapes, nestled together, were a testament to Grandma Qin's terrifyingly efficient network.
