บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire's Secret Bride : บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Monday arrived without asking permission.It didn’t knock. It didn’t wait. It simply was—sliding in on pale morning light and the quiet, aching knowledge that life was moving again.Aria stood in the doorway of Mia’s flat, coffee cooling in her hand, watching the triplets pull on their little jackets. Allen had his own backwards. Evan was sitting on the floor, deeply offended by the existence of shoes. Lila was humming to herself, blissfully unbothered.“Okay,” Mia said, clapping her hands softly. “Team Hayes. Formation.”Aria smiled, but it felt tight around the edges.“You ready?” Mia asked, lowering her voice.Aria nodded. Once. “I think so.”She wasn’t. Not really. But readiness had never been something motherhood waited for.The drive to the daycare was quieter than she expected. The city outside the window looked different on a Monday morning—purposeful, sharp, awake. People walking fast, lives already in motion.Allen’s small hand slipped into hers at a red light.“You’re quiet

The boutique smelled like silk and perfume and something faintly sweet—vanilla, maybe. Or nostalgia. The kind that clung to the walls of places built for beginnings.Evelyn stood on a small circular platform, barefoot, the hem of the gown pooled around her like a quiet secret. Layers of ivory tulle. Lace that caught the light when she breathed. The dress fit her perfectly. Too perfectly. As if it had been waiting for her longer than she had been waiting for it.The seamstress knelt, murmuring to herself, pins flashing between her fingers. Someone adjusted the bodice at her back, tugged gently, then again.“Perfect,” the woman said softly. “Absolutely perfect.”Evelyn nodded.She’d been nodding all morning.Her reflection stared back at her from the three-way mirror—front, side, back—multiplying her into versions of herself she barely recognized. A bride. A promise. A future already written in chalk.Her chest tightened.“Evie?”Tracy’s voice came from the velvet couch behind her, warm

The car ride back was quiet in the way only sisters could make it—full, not empty. The kind of silence that breathed. Tracy drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently against her thigh. Evelyn sat in the passenger seat, dress bag folded in the back like a ghost neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Streetlights slid past the windshield in soft blurs. “So,” Tracy said finally. “What do you want to do?” Evelyn stared straight ahead. “I don’t know.” “That’s not an answer,” Tracy said gently. “But it’s okay if it’s the only one you’ve got.” Evelyn’s hands were folded in her lap, fingers twisting against each other, skin rubbing skin like she could wear herself down to something simpler. “I feel like everything I touch turns into a lie,” she said. Tracy’s jaw tightened. She didn’t argue. Didn’t soothe it away. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” Tracy said. “But you can’t keep pretending everything’s fine either. You’ll break.” Evelyn let out a breath t

Aria barely noticed the world around her as the nurse led her down the sterile corridor. Allen was still asleep in her arms, his small body limp but warm against her chest. Lila and Evan clung to her hands, sensing her tension, sensing that something wasn’t right. Mia walked beside her, silent but steady—a quiet anchor in the storm that had begun the moment the daycare called. The doctor’s office smelled faintly of antiseptic, the white walls gleaming under fluorescent lights that seemed too bright, too harsh. He didn’t waste time with small talk. His eyes, sharp and direct, met hers across the desk. “Miss Hayes,” he began, voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency, “Allen’s condition is critical. His hemoglobin levels are dangerously low. We need to do a blood transfusion—immediately.” The words landed on her chest like a hammer. “What?” she whispered, though her mind understood perfectly. She had read about this, seen it in books, and heard the stories. But reality hit diffe

Aria waited until she was sure her voice wouldn’t break before she pressed call. It rang once. Twice. Joe answered on the third ring. “Aria?” Just hearing her name—said like that, careful, already bracing—nearly undid her. “Joe,” she said. Too quiet. She cleared her throat. Tried again. “Joe. It’s Allen.” Silence. Not the kind filled with noise. The kind that drops straight through you. “What happened?” His voice shifted, sharpened. Papers rustled faintly, like he’d stood up too fast. “He’s sick.” Her fingers curled into the hospital blanket. “We’re at the hospital. They’re… they’re running tests.” “How sick?” Joe asked. She hesitated. One breath too long. Joe exhaled slowly. “Aria.” “They said his condition is serious,” she said finally. “They’re monitoring him. He’s stable for now, but he needs a blood transfusion.” There was a pause. He swallowed hard. “Oh my, God. I should be there.” She closed her eyes. The instinct to say yes—to beg—rose sharp and desperate in her c