Mr. Billionaire Wants His Dying Wife Back

A FRAGILE HOPE

Isabella

“You have six to eight months left to live.” The doctor's words crashed into me like a death sentence.

Six months.

Maybe eight at most and that is if I am lucky.

The hospital clock ticked louder, making every borrowed breath heavier than the last.

Every passing second felt like sand slipping through an hourglass.

Seven years of marriage.

Seven years of swallowing forced pills, empty arms, silent tears, and prayers that never seemed to reach heaven.

And now, after finally becoming pregnant...

I would die because of it.

For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except the violent pounding of my heart.

I felt the blood drain from my face, "What do you mean?"

The doctor lowered his gaze.

"Mrs. Blackwood, further examinations revealed a severe heart and lung condition. Pregnancy has accelerated the progression. Continuing the pregnancy puts your life at significant risk."

Drawing a full breath suddenly felt impossible, as if invisible hands were squeezing my lungs.

Yet fate had decided to place a countdown over my head on this very same day.

A sharp pain settled in my chest as my fingers instinctively moved over my still-flat stomach. The child I'd spent seven years praying for was finally here. Yet I had just learned that my baby might cost me everything, including my life.

The cold examination table felt like a slab of ice beneath me.

I stared blankly at the doctor's office, my sight blurred by shock.

How did everything fall apart so quickly?

For the past three weeks, I have been noticing strange symptoms… symptoms that I couldn’t ignore any longer, no matter how hard I tried… and my husband, Drake Blackwood, didn’t care enough to notice even if I drew my last breath in front of him.

I could still hear his voice from that morning, laced with that familiar irritation, sharp and impatient.

“Isabella, just take your pills, please. I can't afford any complications.”

“What complications, Drake?”

“Nothing.”

His dismissive tone echoed in my mind.

It was the soundtrack of our marriage, clearly indicating the yearning that had hollowed me out for years.

For seven years, I had longed for a child. Every month, my hope turned to ash when he forced those pills on me, until I had finally grown too weary to fight him.

“Why can’t you understand how much this means to me?” I had whispered back then, tears blurring my vision.

But as usual, his response was always a wall of frustration. “I don’t want children yet.”

Yet somehow...

Despite everything...

I was pregnant.

The joy I felt battled with a fear I never knew still existed within me.

I allowed myself for a second to imagine tiny hands and little feet, but the grip of reality tightened quickly.

What would Drake do?

“Mrs. Blackwood,” the doctor continued, his voice turning serious, “is your husband available? I would have preferred to discuss this with both of you.”

“No, I came alone. Tell me.” I had purposely chosen a hospital far from our family doctor. I didn't want Drake's fingerprints on my medical history today.

The doctor hesitated.

“This is a major decision. Ideally, I'd like him involved before we proceed. Could you call him? Or perhaps he can come to the hospital?”

My stomach tightened.

There was no way I was bringing Drake here.

Not for this.

Not when I already knew what his answer would be.

“The thing is... he's not available,” I quickly said.

The doctor frowned. “Is there really no way to reach him?”

“Please.” I latched onto the only thing that mattered right now. “Isn't there another option?”

The desperation in my own voice embarrassed me.

The doctor sighed heavily before looking down at my file.

“Statistics show that the risk of death for the mother is between fifty and seventy percent. If you continue with the pregnancy...” He paused for a moment, as though carefully deciding how best to explain the reality of my situation.

The doctor took a slow breath before meeting my eyes again. The sympathy in his expression told me the news wasn't getting any better. “But if you continue with the pregnancy, the medications needed to protect the baby will take a heavy toll on your body and I’m sorry to say…. there's a very real chance you won't live long enough to become a mother or lose your life during labor.”

Panic crashed through me as I struggled to catch my breath. The doctor noticed my distress and held back whatever he was about to say next.

“But... I finally have the child I've dreamed of,” I whispered, fighting back a sob.

“I wish I had better news, Mrs. Blackwood.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead.

"So I have to choose?" I asked. The question barely left my lips and I wasn't sure if I was speaking to the doctor or to myself.

The doctor nodded.

“If you terminate the pregnancy, we can begin treatment immediately. You could have more time—to live, to heal, maybe even to adopt someday.”

"And if I keep the baby?” The silence lasted only a second.

But it felt like forever.

When he finally turned back to face me, sympathy still lingered in his eyes.

The doctor slid a document across the desk toward me. “Yes. You would have to sign a waiver stating that you understand the risks.”

I stared at the floor.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the chair. This was the hardest decision I had ever faced.

My heart felt like it would rip apart as it slammed against my ribs. Without fully realizing it, I found myself reaching for the pen. My hand shook, but I signed the papers

Each letter was a vow.

I wasn't signing it because I wanted a child with Drake. I was signing it because this might be my only chance to ever have a child of my own. If I ended this pregnancy, there was no guarantee I would ever get pregnant again—with Drake or with anyone else. This baby wasn't just a choice. It was a chance I might never get twice.

“You deserve to live, little one,” I whispered to my womb, “even if I don’t.”

“Just a minute, please,” the doctor said before excusing himself and stepping out of the office.

A few minutes later, he returned carrying a bag filled with new medications. He handed them to me and carefully explained how and when I should take each one.

“You may experience dizziness, shortness of breath, fatigue, and other side effects over the next few days,” the doctor explained. “It will take some time for the medication to start working. The symptoms should gradually improve, but I can't guarantee they will disappear completely.”

“Okay,” I replied with a nod. “I'll keep you updated on any changes.”

The doctor placed a hand on my shoulder. "We'll monitor you closely, Mrs. Blackwood. But you need to understand the risks remain extremely high. We will do everything we can, but I can make no promises.”

As I walked out of the office, a wave of disappointment washed over me. What am I supposed to do?

Drake doesn't want children, our marriage is hanging on a thin thread. Still, I can't lose this child… it would be too selfish of me to cut its life short just to save mine.

What do I do?

As my mind shuffled through the situation, my legs halted suddenly at the sound of a familiar voice.

Drake?

My husband came to the hospital? What is he doing here?

I turned to the door right beside me, taking a hesitant step, my hand wrapping around the handle.

"Congratulations, Mr. Blackwood… Your wife is pregnant."

I shuddered, the name and the voice were Drake's. I didn't think twice, I pushed the door open… the couple facing the doctor turned to look at the door.

A knot curled in my stomach.

I stood frozen as the whispers of nurses and visitors swirled around me.

It's indeed Drake, but then the person sitting beside him—

Emily Sinclair.

“D–did you just say… she's pregnant?”

The words slipped out of my mouth, her test result opened in Drake's hand. I could tell even from where I stood, because the paper was painfully similar to the one I was given minutes ago.

My eyes moved to Drake.