Winter settled over New York like a soft blanket, snow dusting the city in quiet magic. WestTech's post-IPO glow hadn't faded; if anything, it burned brighter. Media called Simon "the king of modern romance," ironic given his very unconventional one. But inside their penthouse fortress, the quartet had built something far more precious than stock options: a family.
The idea of expansion—true family expansion—had been simmering since the emotional storms of autumn. Kids. The word once felt abstract, impossible in their setup. But after raw talks, tears, and dreams shared in the dark, it became real.
It started with Betty.
One crisp December morning, she woke early and slipped out of bed, leaving Simon, Lily, and Chunmei tangled in sleep. She stood at the window watching snow fall, hand unconsciously on her belly.
She'd been late. Then later. A discreet test confirmed it.
Pregnant.
The realization hit like champagne bubbles—terror, joy, wonder.
She returned to bed, sliding in beside Simon, waking him with soft kisses.
"I have news," she whispered.
The others stirred. Eyes opened. She told them.
Silence. Then explosion.
Lily squealed, tackling Betty in a hug. "Oh my God! We're having a baby!"
Chunmei's eyes filled instantly. "A little us."
Simon—usually so composed—pulled Betty close, tears in his eyes. "You're… we're… really?"
She nodded, laughing through tears.
The morning dissolved into celebration—naked cuddles, gentle lovemaking focused on Betty, hands on her still-flat belly as if the baby could already feel their love.
But questions followed joy.
Whose was it? Biology didn't matter—they'd all agreed early on—but curiosity burned.
A discreet paternity test later revealed: Simon's.
The news deepened everything.
Simon became fiercely protective—carrying Betty up stairs "for practice," researching every pregnancy book, scheduling the best OB in the city.
Lily dove into planning—designing a nursery that was modern, colorful, gender-neutral. "This kid's going to have the coolest room in Manhattan."
Chunmei handled logistics—nutrition plans, prenatal yoga classes, researching nannies who understood "unconventional families."
But expansion wasn't just the baby.
Lily surprised them one night over dinner.
"I've been thinking," she said, setting down her fork. "I want one too. Not now—after Betty's settled. But… yeah."
Chunmei nodded slowly. "Me three. Eventually. I want to carry one. Pass on some stubborn Zhao genes."
Simon looked overwhelmed. "You're all… sure?"
Three heads nodded.
The vision crystallized: multiple children, raised together, four parents pouring love from every direction.
Practicality hit next.
They bought the floor below the penthouse—converting it into expanded living space: more bedrooms, play areas, a home office for when work-from-home days coincided with parenting.
Legal protections: trusts, wills, guardianship papers naming all four. A lawyer specializing in non-traditional families became their new best friend.
Society's judgment loomed, but they armored up.
When Betty's bump became visible, they went public carefully—Simon's arm around her at events, Lily and Chunmei flanking them protectively. Media speculated: "Simon West's mystery pregnancy!" Tabloids spun narratives, but their united front shut most down.
Inside, the pregnancy transformed intimacy.
Betty's body changed—breasts fuller, skin glowing, desire spiking then dipping with hormones. The others adapted beautifully.
Gentle sessions when she needed tenderness: Simon making slow love to her while Lily and Chunmei held her hands, kissing her tears of overwhelm.
Wilder nights when hormones raged: Betty directing from the center—Lily's strap, Chunmei's mouth, Simon's cock—until she came screaming.
They celebrated milestones: first ultrasound (all four crammed into the room, crying at the heartbeat), feeling the first kick (hands piled on her belly, laughter and tears).
Lily and Chunmei's maternal instincts kicked in early—cooking weird cravings at 3 a.m., massaging swollen feet, reading baby books aloud in funny voices.
Simon's protectiveness extended to all: researching car seats, installing air purifiers, turning into a dad before the baby arrived.
But expansion brought new emotional layers.
Chunmei struggled with her family again—telling them about the pregnancy without revealing the full truth. "My boss's partner is expecting," she lied. The distance hurt.
They held her through it, promising: when she was ready to carry, they'd support her coming out—or not.
Lily grappled with body fears as Betty bloomed. "What if I get pregnant and hate how I look?"
Three voices assured her: "We'll love every inch. More to worship."
The baby—gender surprise, name debates endless—became the center of their universe.
One snowy night in late pregnancy, Betty woke them with contractions—false alarm, Braxton Hicks.
Panic turned to laughter, then to tender lovemaking—Simon inside her carefully while Lily and Chunmei soothed with touches and whispers.
"You're incredible," Simon murmured, moving slow. "Carrying our future."
Betty came softly, tears of joy.
As spring returned, the family expanded in ways beyond biology.
They adopted a rescue dog—a fluffy mutt named Chaos, perfect for their life.
Hosted small gatherings with understanding friends—Mia finally met the full dynamic, eyebrow raised but smiling.
Planned maternity leave rotations: all four taking time off in shifts.
The nursery took shape—Lily's design: soft grays, pops of color, mobiles of stars and code symbols.
On a quiet April evening, Betty's water broke.
Chaos ensued—bags grabbed, car raced to hospital, all four piling into the delivery suite (thanks to private care perks).
Labor was long, intense. Betty fierce and beautiful through it.
Simon held one hand, Lily the other, Chunmei at her head whispering encouragement in English and Mandarin.
When the baby arrived—a healthy girl, crying lustily—they all wept.
Simon cut the cord. Lily named her first: "Welcome, Nova West-Zhao-Pan-Harrington. You've got the longest, coolest name ever."
Skin-to-skin: Betty first, then passed around—Simon cradling her with awe, Lily cooing, Chunmei kissing tiny fingers.
The family expanded.
One became five.
In the quiet hospital room, snow falling outside (spring's last tease), they held their daughter—four parents, one perfect miracle.
The empire had grown again.
Not in boardrooms.
In hearts.
Forever expanded.