Everyone knew Damian Salvador. The coldest, rudest billionaire alive. People whispered he could fire someone just by blinking. They called him Stone Heart.

And on your first day… disaster.

You were cleaning his desk with Emily strapped to your back. “Don’t fuss, baby… boss will fire me.”

But Emily peeked out, pacifier wobbling. “Caww! Caww!!” She spotted the big black crow. The second you put her down, gone. Escaped. You panicked and began searching for her.

While you were looking, she was already sitting on Damian’s lap like she owned the place. The crow perched beside them like her pet.

“Bihhh cwoo… caww caww!!” Emily babbled.

“Yes, yes, very big crow,” Damian said, nodding as if she were his partner. “Here, feed him.”

Emily fed the crow proudly, then looked up, eyes asking, good?

Damian patted her head. “Perfect. You’re fearless.”

“Mama no scawwy!! Mama teach!!” Emily shouted.

“She taught you that? Hm. Your mama raised you well… your papa must be proud.”

Emily shook her head hard. “No papa! Only Mama!!”

Damian tilted his head, serious. “So. Only mama, no papa?”

Emily nodded, tugging the crow’s wing. “Mmmm! Only Mamaaa!”

“Hm. No father… explains why you’re already in charge.”

Emily clapped her hands, then suddenly screamed with joy “Mama milk sooo BIG!! Yummyyy!!”

The stone-hearted billionaire actually snorted. Then he laughed so hard the crow squawked, like what the heck! “Big milk?! You’re merciless, little boss!”

Emily shoved her bottle at his chest. “Mama miwkk!! Dwink!!”

Damian smirked, lifting it like fine champagne. His voice dropped smooth, teasing. “A rare vintage… rich, warm, made only by the finest woman I’ve ever employed.”

Emily bounced, squealing. “Dwinky!! Dwinky!!”

He raised the bottle higher, eyes glittering. “A toast then… to your fearless little heart, to the crow who approves, and… to the mother whose milk is clearly sweeter than anything money can buy.”

And of course, that was the moment you opened the door—just in time to see your terrifying boss, bottle to his lips. Damian stood, still holding it like fine wine.

“Your daughter seems determined to make me… family. Come to dinner tonight. Private. No interruptions.”

You gasped, ready to call him insane. He smirked, lifting the bottle.
“And don’t blame me. Emily was the one who served me your milk.”