All Chapters of BOUND TO THE CRIPPLED CEO : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

DANICANot being able to sleep during the night, I couldn't wait for morning to come. As soon as it was five a.m, I jumped out of bed, showered and made some pancakes for little Ivan who was still fast asleep in bed.By six-thirty, I had woken little Ivan up, bathed him. By seven, the nanny had come around and assisted with feeding him. I gave him some pecks and left for the hospital.The morning light bled into the hospital corridors, pale and thin, as though even the sun itself couldn’t bear to shine too brightly here. I sat by Valerie’s bed, her frail chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven rhythms. Her face was almost translucent now, the veins under her skin visible, her lips dry. Every time I looked at her, a part of me broke a little more, like porcelain cracking under invisible pressure.I’d been counting her breaths. Not in a conscious way, but like my body had trained itself to make sure she was still tethered to this world.Thirty-nine… forty… forty-one…The door to he

IVAN “You did what?” I couldn't believe my ears. This must be some kind of mistake. Except… Except, she truly was the person. A gasp escaped my lips as I stood up from my crouching position beside her. “That was why when I saw the other one in your room, I was shaken to my bones,” she said, lifting herself from the ground. “And you're sure it's the very same thing?” I asked “Yes it is. Why would I lie about it or even have the same type of golden cigarette case with ‘CI’ initials also marked on it.” She let out a shaky sigh. “It's not like I wanted this to happen, but here we are.” I paced my office for a short while, using my fingers to rake my hair at the same time trying to gain control over everything at once. It's been a long time since news like this has shaken me. Unexpectedly. “So, that means Valerie and Ivan are both my kids?” I stopped pacing to brace myself for the next course of action. “If indeed it was the both of us that night.” “Yes,” she simply said. “Then

IVAN The hospital had a smell that could never be ignored— sterile, sharp, metallic, like bleach layered over sickness. As John parked in the available space and I stepped out, the automatic doors slid open with a hiss, swallowing me into its white-lit corridors. Dr. Kendra was waiting. Not in her usual calm poise, but with that clipped, urgent energy of someone who’d been awake too long, fighting against time itself. At least four nurses hovered behind her, their scrubs a coordinated blue, masks already tucked at their necks. One wheeled a stainless steel tray stocked with syringes sealed in plastic, another pushed a portable ECG machine, and the others carried what looked like sealed cooler boxes— the kind used for blood transportation. “Ivan,” Kendra said as soon as she spotted me, her voice brisk. “We’re ready for you. The labs are on standby, blood banks are alerted, and the genetics department is cleared to run your HLA typing immediately.” Her words came at me in a

DAVIDThe familiar jolt of the wheels touching down pulled me out of the half-sleep I’d slipped into during the flight. Chicago, at last. The announcement over the cabin speakers confirmed it, and soon the plane was on the runway.I sat up straighter, smoothing the creases of my jacket, and exhaled slowly. I hadn’t been sure what to expect from this trip— whether I’d be welcomed, ignored, or perhaps even resented. But I knew I had to come.When the doors opened, I joined the line of passengers heading down the jet bridge, the chill of October air sneaking in through the terminal glass as I entered O’Hare. Chicago always carried that sharp wind that bit through clothes, and today was no exception.I pulled my phone out, scanning the unread messages. Danica’s last update was brief: “We’re at the hospital. Valerie is stable for now. Call when you land.”No matter how strong she sounded through text, I could imagine the weight pressing down on her shoulders. That weight was why I was here

PETEThe drive back home was unusually silent. Even the city noise outside the car windows felt muffled, like it was holding its breath along with me. Emma sat beside me, her hands folded neatly over her purse, watching the passing cars. She hadn’t said a word since we left the hospital.When we finally got home, she dropped her purse on the console table and turned to me. “Alright,” she said quietly. “What’s going on?”I pretended not to hear her and slipped off my shoes. “Nothing. Just tired.”“Pete.” Her tone was soft, but firm enough to stop me mid-step. “You’ve been staring into space since we left Ivan’s room. You barely said goodbye to anyone. What happened back there?”I loosened my tie and walked to the minibar instead of answering. “It’s been a long day. Maybe I just need a drink.”“No,” she said, crossing her arms. “You need to talk.”The sound of ice clinking in the glass filled the silence. I poured myself a small measure of whiskey, then stopped, realizing my hand was tr