Alejandro understood Mark immediately and chuckled in response. “O-ho, all I know is that Arianne isn’t in the Capital for the time being. Why is the pot, who also spies on me regularly, so mad at the kettle?”
He was not wrong. Both Mark and Alejandro had their eyes on each other’s every movement at all times. Mark was not in the mood to refute him or continue giving him attention, so he turned to the document in his hand.
Unfortunately, Baby Melissa’s incessant bawls were so shrill and grating that it became a challenge just to stay focused. Frustrated, Mark looked up and snapped, “Can you shut your kid up? I can’t believe someone like you could live long enough to become a father. It’s like God wasn’t watching the world at all!”
Alejandro frowned. “Wow, do you kiss your wife with that mouth? What, I can’t be a father too? Even if I don’t deserve to be one, well, I am one now; what are you gonna do about that? Besides, you’re just as ill-deserving of fatherhood, yet here you are!” he retorted, before adding, “Why is she crying? I tried to coax her out of it, but she wouldn’t stop.”
Mark harbored not a lick of pity nor solicitude for his half-brother, but he could not bear to see the baby girl’s voice turning hoarse from her crying, either, so he relented a little and reminded Alejandro. “Look, is she hungry? If not, check if she has defecated or urinated, and then change her diaper. For Christ’s sake, if you don’t know any of this, then why the hell did you bring her out here? Look at her—she’s a fragile newborn! You’re utterly obtuse about even the basics. God, her survival at your laughably incompetent hands should be hailed as a miracle!”
Alejandro placed Melissa on the couch and undid her diaper, examining. “Oh, she did pee-pee. So you were crying because of discomfort, weren’t you, sweet peas? Daddy will help you change now.”
Mark was losing his mind. “Can—you—not—do—it—here?!”
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