Author's note: This story continues where the press conference in The Worst Father-In-Law in Paris left off. I've included said press conference here. If you've already read it, skip to the next chapter.

For that matter, if you read The Worst Father-In-Law in Paris prior to April 10, 2018, the next three chapters will not be new material to you. Sorry for all the changes, I just realized this particular story thread was kind of taking over the original intent of the story, so I decided to separate it.

For those who haven't read The Worst Father-In-Law in Paris, Marinette and Adrien are married and expecting their first baby. Hawkmoth has figured out their identities and they've bullied him into taking a break from akumatizing anyone until two months after the baby is born.

Ladybug was stuck at a press conference panel with the rest of the team and she really had to pee. Little Emma was practically jumping on her bladder. Other than the heartburn, and the inability to be comfortable like ever, and the swollen ankles, oh and the fact that she could no longer see her feet, this was probably the worst part of pregnancy.

"As we've told you before," she continued, crossing her legs, "Hawkmoth is not gone for good; he's just agreed to give us a few months' hiatus."

"Agreed?" asked a reporter, "Did you make a deal with Hawkmoth?"

"Look," said Chat, "Given the choice between making a small deal with a supervillain and risking the safety of her unborn child, Ladybug chose the lesser of two weevils."

"Really Chat?" Ladybug asked, rolling her eyes. He'd been making insect puns all week and it was getting old.

"What can I say, I made it up on the fly," he remarked, casually leaning back on his chair with his hands supporting the back of his head.

"Still, how can we be sure this deal isn't dangerous for the city?"

Before Ladybug could say anything in her defense, Rena Rouge stood up, seething, "You mean how can you trust Ladybug who has been defending the city for over a decade? You can't be serious!"

"But if we don't know what the deal was, how can we be sure?"

"Because the deal was of rather personal nature and it's none of your dang business!" she sat down

"Speaking of personal," added the reporter, "Ladybug, there's a theory floating around that your civilian identity is the wife of former Gabriel model, Adrien Agreste. Can you address those rumors?"

Chat fell backwards in his chair.

Ladybug wasn't doing much better. "I well - I," she stuttered.

Luckily, Queen Bee came to her rescue. "There are so many things wrong with that statement, I should have you thrown out of the room. One, you should know better than to ask us personal questions. Two, while I don't actually like Marinette as a person, I'm not going to stand by and let you reduce one of my top five favorite designers in the city to 'the wife of a former model.'" She stood up and pounded her fist on the table.

Meanwhile, Chat had extracted himself from the collapsed folding chair. He set up the chair again and assumed an 'I meant to do that' expression.

Queen Bee continued, "This is 2028 and you're talking like it's the 1950's. I literally bought every piece from Marinette Dupain-Cheng's fall line last year because it's all amazing and I for one won't let you get away with calling her Adrien's wife as if she's just an accessory. Security, take him away."

"I still think Ladybug is Marinette," shouted the reporter as he was being hauled out of the room.

Several other reporters began shouting questions at the same time. This press conference was getting out of hand and Ladybug was getting worried about her secret identity. "Lucky charm," she whispered under the table, and ended up with a bottle of water. She thought for a moment before dumping the entire bottle onto her lap. Ladybug stood up and everyone fell silent. "My water just broke. I'm in labor. This panel is over. Rena, Queenie, could you help me out? Carapace, grab Chat and follow us before he passes out."