The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Enock and Mileh's modern minimalist home, casting a soft glow over the plush nursery rug where three-month-old Leo lay. The infant, born early but now thriving with a stubborn Armitage resilience, kicked his legs in the air, gurgling at the colorful mobiles spinning above him.
The doorbell chimed, a low, melodic sound that signaled the arrival of the most unexpected guests. Enock checked the security monitor, his muscles tensing instinctively. Governor George Armitage and his wife, Beatrice, stood on the porch. They weren't flanked by a security detail or a swarm of press; they stood alone, carrying several elegantly wrapped boxes and a high-end infant carrier.
Mileh opened the door, her expression guarded but polite. "Governor. Beatrice. Please, come in."
