All Chapters of A Twist of Fate with the Callous Billionaire : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

— Sophia’s POVThe morning came without warning. Not sunlight, not the soft orange glow that used to crawl across our bedroom walls back home. No. Here it was just the blinds turning from black to a paler shade of grey. The air conditioner clicking louder for a second before humming again. The sharp smell of disinfectant stinging the back of my throat.I hadn’t slept. Not a second. My head hurt like knives digging just above my temples, but I didn’t care. My body was stiff, my back screaming, but none of that mattered.Ethan looked worse. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie shoved into his pocket sometime during the night. His eyes red. His stubble darker, sharper. His hand still holding Irene’s like it had been glued there.Our boy…He moved. Not much, but enough. A shift of fingers. A twitch in his lips. The sound of his breathing a little louder now, like his chest was working harder to keep him here.I whispered his name. Too soft at first, then again louder. “Irene.”His eyelids f

—Sophia’s POVThe room felt colder after she left.Like she’d dragged something with her. Left the air poisoned.Ethan still hadn’t moved. His chest was rising too fast, fists locked, jaw clenched so hard I could almost hear the grind of his teeth.I wanted to tell him to breathe. Just breathe. But the words sat heavy on my tongue.Because how do you tell someone to breathe when every breath feels like a fight?I turned back to Irene. His face… too pale, but still him. His lashes dark against his cheeks. His lips cracked at the edges. His chest rising slow, steady, mechanical almost. I pressed my thumb gently against the back of his hand.“Still here,” I whispered. “You’re still here.”A sound ripped from Ethan. Not words. Just… something breaking loose in his chest. He turned away, hands gripping the metal edge of the sink across the room. His shoulders shook once. Twice. Then went still again, locked tight.I watched him in the reflection of the window. The city lights smeared beh

—Sophia’s POVThe night pressed down harder than the day.It wasn’t just darker. It was heavier. Like the walls leaned closer, the air thickened, the shadows knew things they weren’t telling.The monitor still kept time.Beep. Beep. Beep.I’d thought maybe, after enough hours, I’d get used to it. That the sound would fade into the background, blur into something my brain ignored the way it ignored the hum of the fridge back home.But no. It stabbed. Every time. A reminder. A tether. An accusation.Ethan’s chair was shoved close to the bed now. Too close. His knees jammed up against the rail. His elbows on the mattress. He hadn’t moved for, I didn’t know how long. His eyes were locked on Irene’s face, sharp and bloodshot, like if he just stared hard enough he could will him awake.I wanted to tell him to stop. To breathe. To sleep. To do anything but sit there rigid as stone.But I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t doing any better.Irene shifted once. Just a flutter of his lips, his chest

—Sophia’s POVThe morning came without sunlight.Just this dull, gray haze through the window. The kind of light that doesn’t warm anything. Doesn’t comfort. It just… exposes. Every crack in the walls. Every hollow under our eyes.The monitor kept on. That relentless sound.Beep. Beep. Beep.I hated it. Loved it. Needed it.Ethan’s hand was still on Irene’s chest, like he thought if he let go, the rise and fall would stop. His head had dropped forward at some point. Not sleep, no, not sleep. His body just… gave out. His chin rested against his chest. His jaw slack for the first time in hours.I watched him. That line between his brows even in half-rest. His knuckles pale. He looked wrecked. Worse than wrecked. Like the word wasn’t big enough for what had happened to him.I wanted to touch his face. Smooth it out. But I didn’t. My hands were on Irene. They weren’t moving. Couldn’t move. My whole body anchored to him.“Baby,” I whispered. My voice broke on it. “It’s morning. Can you op

—Sophia’s POVThe world had shrunk to his breathing.Every inhale, every shallow rise, every fragile drop of his chest.It wasn’t enough, but it was everything.The monitor still ticked out its rhythm. Beep. Beep. Beep.I hated it less now. That sound was proof. That sound was him.Ethan hadn’t left his side in hours. He was bent forward again, elbows on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling Irene’s. He kept pressing his lips to those small fingers like he was apologizing. Over and over. His eyes were red and glassy, and every once in a while his shoulders would jolt—like his body forgot how to contain the flood.And Irene, my goodness, his eyes had opened. Not wide, not long, but they had. They looked. First at Ethan. Then at me.I was still replaying it in my head. A reel I couldn’t stop. The way his gaze found me and how his lips tugged, just barely, like he knew. Like he’d been fighting through all that dark just for that second.I couldn’t stop crying. My whole body hurt fr