Why Is the CEO Breastfeeding Me Again Today?

As he flipped the fried egg into a perfect runny yolk, I rose onto my toes and stole a kiss on the back of his neck.

“Baby.” His taut back muscles instantly went rigid. “The cutlery's crooked.”

By day, he's a tycoon CEO who buries trending topics with his suit cuffs.

At night, he kneels to put my socks on, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Come on, lift your foot.”

Then I found an old, yellowed photograph in his study:

He was wearing a school uniform and holding me as a baby, his gaze as tender as it is now.

“Your first cry was what taught me how to be an adult.”