[Jay's POV]
The fourth month arrived, and with it came the "Golden Trimester" glow, the first real signs of a baby bump, and a total system malfunction in my taste buds. According to Ci N, my hormones were finally leveling out, but my stomach clearly didn't get the memo.
The "Little Watson" inside me wasn't just a powerhouse; it was a tiny, chaotic food critic. I wasn't craving pickles and ice cream—that was too cliché for a Watson heir. No, my cravings were... logistical nightmares.
The "Midnight Charcoal" Incident
It was a Tuesday, around 2:00 AM. I woke up with a sensation so intense it felt like a software alert flashing in red. I sat up, nudging Keifer, who was—as always—sleeping with one hand protectively draped over my stomach.
"Hubby," I whispered. "Wake up. The system has a specific requirement."
Keifer was alert in three seconds, his "CEO" voice gravelly but sharp. "Analysis, Wiefy? Cramps? Braxton Hicks? Should I call Ci N?"
"I need... burnt toast," I said, my eyes wide. "But not just toasted. I mean carbonized. And I need to dip it in cold, thick honey. But the honey has to be from those specific wildflower hives in the North valley."
Keifer blinked. He looked at me, then at my stomach. "You want... charcoal and honey?"
"Yes. Now. Or I'm going to cry, and you know what that does to my blood pressure."
Keifer sighed, but he was already reaching for his silk robe. "100%. I'll handle the toast. I'll wake the head chef for the honey logistics."
The "Gourmet Trash" Craving
A week later, we were at a high-end charity dinner. The plate in front of me was a 500 masterpiece of wagyu beef and truffle reduction. I took one whiff and felt the Glow turn cold.
"I can't eat this," I whispered to Keifer.
"Is it the scent profile?" he asked, hovering close to my ear. "I'll have the kitchen cleared."
"No," I said, looking at him with desperate eyes. "I want instant noodles. The cheap kind. The ones in the red cup. And I want to eat them with green olives stuffed with pimento. And... a side of cold watermelon."
Keifer looked at the billionaire sitting across from us, then back at me. Without a word, he stood up, pulled out my chair, and signaled for our security team.
"We're leaving," he announced to the table.
"Is everything alright, Keifer?" the host asked, panicked.
"The Empress has a priority data request," Keifer replied coldly. "We have to go to a convenience store."
The Family's Reaction
When we got back to the mansion, the "Care Protocol" shifted to accommodate my weirdness.
Mamma Serina walked into the kitchen to find me dipping french fries into a chocolate milkshake while eating a piece of sharp cheddar cheese. She just smiled and kissed my forehead. "The Watson boys always did have complicated tastes, Jay. Keifer once went a whole month eating nothing but cold pasta and oranges."
Keiran thought it was a game. He started bringing me "test samples." "Ate Jay! I found some seaweed crackers and peanut butter! Does the baby want to try?" (Surprisingly, the baby did.)
Keigan started logging my cravings into a spreadsheet. "I'm trying to find the nutritional pattern," he muttered, staring at his screen. "But so far, the only pattern is 'Chaos'."
The Hubby's Devotion
The weirdest one happened on a rainy afternoon. I was sitting in the library when I suddenly smelled the rain on the pavement outside.
"Keif," I said, looking out the window. "I want to smell... old books and fresh rain... while eating sour green apples with salt."
Keifer didn't even ask questions anymore. He opened the library windows to let the damp air in, grabbed a stack of 18th-century leather-bound ledgers from the shelf, and sat on the floor with me. He spent the next hour slicing green apples with a silver fruit knife, sprinkling them with sea salt, and holding the old books open so I could inhale the scent.
"Is the requirement met, Wiefy?" he asked, his thumb catching a drop of apple juice on my lip.
"100%," I sighed, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Good," he murmured, pulling me closer. "Because I just got a shipment of 'Earth-scented' candles just in case the weather changes. I'm not letting your system go hungry."