Chapter 296: The Baby’s Choice

Mary was rapidly losing her patience.

As Alexander’s grandmother, she had expected to be one of the stars of the celebration. It was her grandson’s first birthday, after all—a milestone she had spared no expense to make unforgettable.

She had imagined carrying him around the ballroom, showering him with kisses, and proudly introducing him to the women in her circle and to other distinguished guests who gathered to celebrate his special day.

Instead, she was reduced to watching him cling to another woman as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

And that woman was Isobel Lancey.

The thought alone was enough to sour Mary’s mood.

At first, she had tried to win Alexander over with sweet words and an assortment of colorful toys. She even promised to take him closer to the spaceship and the rockets that dominated the ballroom. She thought that Alex would be interested on the metallic surface gleaming beneath the elaborate lighting.

Most children would have been thrilled.

Alexander, however, barely spared her a glance.

His tiny arms remained wrapped around Isobel’s neck, and whenever Mary tried to coax him away, he would bury his face against Isobel’s shoulder as though afraid he might be taken away.

How could a child barely a year old be so stubborn?

Unable to endure another moment of rejection, Mary finally reached out and took him from Isobel’s arms.

The moment Alexander realized he had been separated from the woman he wanted, his little face crumpled.

A piercing wail burst from his throat.

"Waaah! Waaah!"

He twisted furiously in Mary’s arms, his tiny legs kicking as he stretched both hands toward Isobel. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his flushed cheeks.

"Alexander, sweetheart, don’t cry." Mary bounced him gently, forcing a smile onto her face. "Look at Na..ma. See what Na..ma has for you?"

She waved a toy in front of him.

Alexander didn’t even look at it.

His cries grew louder.

"Come on, darling. Grandma will take you to see the spaceship."

He only reached harder for Isobel.

The commotion soon attracted attention.

Several guests turned toward them, their conversations trailing off.

A few exchanged amused glances, while others discreetly observed the scene over the rims of their champagne glasses.

No one openly laughed. After all, it was a child’s birthday celebration, and a little crying was hardly unusual.

But this was no ordinary tantrum.

The birthday boy was rejecting his own grandmother in front of a ballroom full of distinguished guests—and making it abundantly clear whom he wanted instead.

For Mary, every passing second felt like a public humiliation.

What an ungrateful little brat!

She had spent weeks preparing for this celebration. Every decoration, every attraction, every carefully arranged detail had been chosen to ensure that Alexander’s first birthday would be a spectacular affair.

And now, instead of admiring the party she had worked so hard to organize, everyone was watching her struggle to control a crying child.

Worse, they were watching her fail.

What kind of grandmother would she be if she couldn’t even comfort her own grandson?

Her arms were beginning to ache, and Alexander showed no sign of calming down. If anything, his wails seemed to grow more desperate with every passing moment.

At last, Mary had no choice but to surrender.

With her jaw clenched and her pride in tatters, she reluctantly handed Alexander back to Isobel.

The transformation was immediate.

Alexander’s cries dwindled to a few miserable hiccups. He rubbed his damp cheeks against her shoulder, nestled his face into the crook of her neck, and quieted down as though the entire episode had never happened.

Within moments, he was perfectly content.

Mary stared at him, unable to conceal her disbelief.

A moment ago, the little boy had been screaming as though the world were ending. Now, nestled in Isobel’s arms, he looked as peaceful as an angel.

Mary’s lips trembled.

Her gaze slowly shifted to Isobel.

The young woman was gently patting Alexander’s back, murmuring something too soft for anyone else to hear. Her expression was tender, her movements instinctive. She didn’t appear pleased with herself, nor did she make any effort to draw attention to what had just happened.

She simply comforted the child.

Somehow, that made Mary’s humiliation even worse.

If Isobel had smirked or deliberately flaunted Alexander’s attachment to her, Mary would at least have had a reason to confront her.

But the woman hadn’t done anything wrong.

She had merely taken Alexander back into her arms, and the child had immediately stopped crying.

There was nothing Mary could say without making herself look unreasonable.

She dressed in an exquisite gown, adorned herself with elegant jewelry, and arrived at the ballroom expecting to bask in the joy and prestige of her grandson’s first birthday.

Instead, she was forced to swallow her pride in front of a roomful of influential people—all because of Isobel Lancey.

Mary’s fingers curled tightly against the fabric of her gown.

This is all your fault, Isobel.

Her gaze hardened as she watched Alexander snuggle contentedly against the younger woman.

Don’t get too comfortable just because he wants you now. You may have won his affection, but that doesn’t mean you can take my place in this family.

Alexander, blissfully unaware of the resentment brewing around him, clutched Isobel’s dress and let out a soft, satisfied sigh.

Mary nearly ground her teeth.

Yet when she noticed a few guests glancing in her direction, she immediately composed herself. She lifted her chin, smoothed the front of her gown, and a gracious smile blossomed on her face.

No one would see how deeply she had been slighted.

Not today.

Not at her precious grandson’s first birthday celebration.

But the bitterness had already taken root.

And Isobel’s simple act of comforting a child had become another offense Mary would remember for a long time.

Determined not to let her emotions ruin the occasion, Mary finally tore her gaze away from Isobel and turned to Henry.

"There’s no need to bother Alexander anymore," Henry told her. "Just focus on entertaining our guests."

Henry glanced at her, seemingly aware of her displeasure, but he said nothing.

Mary had barely regained her composure when the ballroom lights suddenly dimmed.

For a moment, the entire hall fell into darkness, broken only by the soft glow of the decorative stars scattered across the ceiling and peeping from behind the balloon clouds.

Mary blinked.

Then she remembered.

It was time for the official opening of the party.