Yardley was completely paralyzed.
Looking down at the baby spit-up covering his shirt and seeing his daughter's undeniable discomfort, the harsh reality finally sank in: he had severely underestimated how hard it was to take care of a baby.
She was so tiny. She couldn't speak, couldn't even gesture to tell him what was wrong. He was utterly clueless, standing there like a statue while her piercing cries echoed through the room.
Hearing the racket, Corinne rushed downstairs, her silk robe trailing behind her.
When she saw Yardley covered in mess and Dawn's little face flushed red from crying, she hurried over, grabbing a towel to hastily wipe her son down.
Then, with a look of pure disgust, she scooped Dawn out of his arms.
"Oh, good heavens, she's covered in it! What... what do we do with her?"
"Zelie! Wendy!" Corinne barked at the maids. "What are you standing around for? Get over here and take her!"
Even as she held the baby, Corinne kept her arms extended as far out as possible, terrified the spit-up would ruin her clothes.
Zelie and Wendy finally dared to approach. Wendy carefully took the crying infant.
"We should probably change the little miss's clothes," Wendy suggested gently. "Actually, a bath would be best. The spit-up got all over her neck. If we don't wash it, it's going to smell awful."
Zelie leaned in and frowned. "She definitely needs a bath. I'll go find a small tub and run some warm water. Once she's clean and comfortable, she'll stop crying."
Yardley was already frantically typing on his phone, googling why babies spit up.
The internet was full of conflicting answers—some said she might have caught a chill, others claimed her digestive system was just underdeveloped. Yardley's brows knit tightly together in frustration.
He wasn't sure if giving Dawn a bath was a good idea. What if she really did have a cold? A bath might make it worse.
His first instinct was to call Zara for advice, but he stopped himself. He had already bragged to Scarlett that he could take perfect care of their daughter tonight. If he called Zara now, word would inevitably get back to Scarlett, and she would be worried sick.

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