LOGINThe morning after Marcus cancelled the wedding, the sidewalk outside my building looked less like a residential entrance and more like a war zone.News vans blocked the street. Paparazzi swarmed the lobby doors like ants on sugar. The headline on the Post was brutal: THE OTHER SISTER: BILLIONAIRE FIANCÉ DUMPS SOCIALITE FOR PREGNANT TWIN?It was messy. It was loud. It was exactly what I had spent my entire career avoiding.But as I stood by the penthouse window, looking down at the chaos, I didn't feel the familiar urge to run or hide. I felt a cold, steely resolve."They're loud," Aria said, walking up beside me.She was wearing one of my oversized sweaters, her hand resting on the seven-month curve of her stomach. She looked tired—the dark circles under her eyes spoke of a sleepless night—but she didn't look afraid."They're vultures," I corrected, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her away from the window. "And we're going to starve them.""How?""By controlling the n
The hospital room felt safe. It had nurses, monitors, and a call button that summoned experts in seconds.The world outside felt like a chaotic, uncontrolled danger zone."Are we sure we're allowed to take her?" I asked, staring at the tiny bundle sleeping in the plastic bassinet. "I feel like we need a permit. Or a license. Or a security detail."Aria laughed from the wheelchair where she was waiting. She looked exhausted, beautiful, and ready to leave. "We signed the papers, Noah. She's ours. We're being discharged, not escaping.""Feels like escaping," I muttered, zipping up the diaper bag for the third time to check if I had the spare pacifier. I did. I had four.I walked over to the bassinet. It was time for the outfit change.I had bought a thousand intricate, stylish outfits. But for today, for the journey home, I had chosen the most cliché thing possible.A pink onesie that said Daddy's Girl in glittery script."Don't judge me," I told Aria as I carefully lifted Emma."I'm not
The world had narrowed down to a seven-pound, four-ounce bundle of warmth resting on my chest.The chaos of the delivery room—the nurses cleaning up, the monitors beeping, the adrenaline crash—faded into a distant hum. All I could see, all I could feel, was her.Emma Rose.She was slippery and warm, wrapped in a standard-issue hospital blanket that seemed far too rough for her new skin. I ran a finger down the curve of her cheek. It was softer than silk, softer than a rose petal. It was a texture that defied physics."She's real," I whispered, my voice raspy from screaming."She is," Noah said. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped around both of us, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I could feel the dampness of his tears against my skin. "She's right here."I looked at her hands. They were tiny, impossible things. I counted the fingers, touching each nail that was no bigger than a grain of rice. One, two, three, four, five. I checked the other hand. Five."Did
"Ten centimeters," Dr. Martinez announced, her voice cutting through the haze of exhaustion in the room like a beacon. "It's time, Aria. On the next contraction, I need you to push."I stood by the head of the bed, gripping Aria's hand. My other hand rested behind her neck, ready to support her.She looked up at me. Her face was flushed, streaked with sweat and tears. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. She looked wrecked. She looked terrified.And she looked like the most powerful thing I had ever seen."I can't," she whispered, her voice raspy. "Noah, I'm so tired.""I know," I said, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth. "I know you are. But you're almost there. She's right there, Aria. You just have to bring her home."She nodded, a jerky, determined movement. She closed her eyes, gathering herself.The monitor beeped, signaling the rise of a contraction."Okay," Aria gritted out. "Okay.""Grab your knees," Dr. Martinez instructed. "Chin to chest. Deep breath, hold it, and pu
The water was everywhere.It wasn't the dramatic splash from the movies where the pregnant woman gasps in a public place and chaos ensues. It was a warm, relentless gush that soaked my pajamas, the sheets, and my dignity in one fell swoop."Oh my god," I breathed, gripping Noah's arm. "It's really happening."Noah was already moving. He was out of bed, pulling on jeans, grabbing his phone. His movements were sharp, efficient—CEO mode activated."Okay," he said, his voice steady but tight. "We practiced this. Bag. Doctor. Car."He handed me a towel. "Can you stand?""I think so."I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Another gush. I groaned, clamping the towel between my legs. "I feel like a leaking pipe.""You're doing great," Noah lied smoothly, dialing Dr. Martinez. "Dr. Martinez? It's Noah West. Aria's water just broke... Yes. Clear fluid... Contractions just started... Okay. Got it."He hung up. "She said to time them. When they're five minutes apart for an hour, we head in. U
January 15th. The date had been circled on the calendar in the kitchen, highlighted on my phone, and etched into my brain for months.Due date.The sun rose over Manhattan, painting the sky a cold, indifferent gray. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting. Waiting for a groan, a gasp, a hand gripping my arm.Silence.Beside me, Aria slept—or tried to. She was surrounded by a fortress of pregnancy pillows, shifting every thirty seconds with a soft grunt of discomfort.I checked the time: 7:00 AM.According to the books, the apps, and the very expensive obstetrician, today was the day.But the nursery was quiet. The hospital bag gathered dust by the door. And Emma Rose West remained stubbornly, infuriatingly silent.Aria rolled over, opening one eye. "Is she here yet?""Not unless she crawled out while we were sleeping," I said, smoothing a strand of hair from her forehead.Aria groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "I am never getting out of this bed. I live here now. Just bri







