Blurb：
When struggling millennial **Corinne** discovers an abandoned baby with **bat-like wings** and **vampire fangs** near her apartment dumpster, her life spirals into supernatural chaos. Meet **Cleo** - a **winged infant** who refuses formula but thrives on drops of blood. As Corinne navigates **single motherhood** with this **mysterious child**, she accidentally turns Cleo into Glimmer's viral sensation **@CluelessNewMom**, sparking online frenzy and vicious troll attacks. But when reality TV producer **Rhiannon Devereaux** arrives with **glossy black wings** matching Cleo's, Corinne gets dragged into the **hidden supernatural world** through a dangerous deal: Star in *Tiny Titans: Home Alone* to fund Cleo's future, while hiding her **vampiric traits** from human viewers. Can a cash-strapped human mom protect her **blood-sipping prodigy** from magical forces and viral fame?
Content：
§PROLOGUEThe baby was in the recycling bin.
Not in, precisely, but next to it, tucked into the grimy alcove of The Meridian Court’s dumpster area that always smelled faintly of sour milk and rain-soaked cardboard.
It was nestled in a Moses basket, of all things.
A ridiculously expensive-looking one, woven from some pale, clean straw that seemed to repel the city's grime.
I only noticed it because I was taking out the trash at an ungodly hour, hoping to avoid Mrs. Gable from 3B and her endless interrogation about my "prospects."
The night was thick and humid, the kind that makes your shirt stick to your back.
A tiny, choked sound, almost like a kitten’s mew, cut through the distant city hum.
My heart did a stupid little lurch.
Please don't be a box of abandoned kittens.
I couldn't afford kittens.
I couldn't afford my own electricity bill this month.
I nudged the basket with the toe of my worn-out Converse.
The sound came again, louder this time.
A whimper.
A very human-sounding whimper.
Oh, God.
My hands felt cold despite the heat.
I knelt, the rough concrete biting into my knees, and gently pulled back a corner of the soft, grey blanket.
The baby was tiny, impossibly so.
A little scrap of a thing with a cherubic face, a button nose, and a tuft of hair as black as spilled ink.
Its eyes were closed, its face scrunched in a pained, sleepy frown.
It was perfect.
And completely abandoned.
My breath hitched.
Who does this?
Who leaves a baby next to a dumpster?
My fingers trembled as I reached out to check if it was warm, if it was real.
As my hand hovered over its chest, the baby stirred, its little back arching.
The blanket slipped.
And I saw them.
Folded neatly against its tiny shoulder blades, like a bizarre birthmark, were two wings.
They weren't feathery angel wings from a Christmas card.
They were small, leathery, and shaped exactly like a bat's.
My mind refused to process what my eyes were seeing.
It had to be a toy.
A cruel, elaborate prank.
I reached out, my finger shaking, and touched the tip of one wing.
It twitched.
It was warm.
And it was real.
The baby in the recycling bin had wings.
And my life, as I knew it, was officially over.
§01
The first twenty-four hours were a blur of panic and instant coffee.
Getting her back to my apartment was the easy part.
I’d scooped up the basket, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, and sprinted up the three flights of stairs to my shoebox-sized home.
I locked, bolted, and chained the door.
Then I just stood there in the middle of my living room, which also served as my dining room and home office, staring at the sleeping infant.
She was a she.
I’d checked.
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The End