บททั้งหมดของ Rejected by a Billionaire, Desired by another.: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Quad POV AvaThe world returned in fragments.A pulse beneath her ribs.A dull ache in her spine.The rhythmic beep of a monitor insisting she was still here.Ava lay utterly still, afraid to move, afraid even to inhale too deeply as though a single reckless breath might fracture the fragile miracle holding her together.Then she felt it.A flutter.Another.Not pain. Not fear.Life.Her lashes trembled open. White ceiling. IV line. Hospital light so bright it stung.And Lucien.He was seated beside her bed, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, his hand wrapped firmly around hers like an anchor driven into storm-tossed ground. His jaw was tight, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel.“You’re awake,” he said softly, like the words themselves might break her if spoken louder.Her throat burned. “The babies?”Lucien didn’t hesitate. “They’re holding on,” he said. “So are you.”The dam inside her shattered.Ava sobbed quiet, broken sounds that wracked her chest

Quad POV AvaThe world went black.Not metaphorically literally.The soft glow of the hospital lights snapped off mid-second, plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The steady hum of machines died as if someone had reached in and crushed the hospital’s heartbeat with their fist.For half a breath, there was silence.Then the alarms screamed.High. Piercing. Relentless.Ava’s heart slammed violently against her ribs as terror detonated inside her chest. Her hand flew instinctively to her stomach, panic flooding her veins so fast it stole her breath.“Lucien!” she cried.Her voice barely left her mouth before he moved.Lucien was already on his feet, stepping in front of her bed in one smooth, violent motion. His broad shoulders blocked her view of the doorway just as a silhouette emerged from the darkness tall, armed, purposeful.Not hesitant.Not lost.This person knew exactly where to go.A gunshot cracked the air.The sound was deafening in the small room.Lucien jerked viole

Quad POV AvaPain was no longer subtle.It clawed.Ava cried out as another violent contraction ripped through her abdomen, stealing her breath and bending her forward instinctively. Her hands flew to her stomach, palms spread protectively, as though her body alone could shield the twins from what she felt coming.Something was wrong.Not just medically.Dangerously wrong.“They’re in danger,” she gasped. “Please listen to me.”The nurse hovering beside the bed hesitated.Just for half a second.But Ava saw it.That hesitation sliced through fear and replaced it with cold clarity.“I want a different doctor,” Ava said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Now.”The nurse’s smile tightened. “You’re overtired, Mrs. Moreau. Let’s not escalate”Ava reached out and grabbed her wrist.Hard.“I said now.”The nurse’s eyes hardened instantly.And in that moment, Ava knew.LucienLucien sensed it before he heard it.The sharp rise in Ava’s monitor.The shift in air outside the room.Footsteps

Quad Pov Ava The NICU smelled different. Not sterile fragile. Ava lay propped in a wheelchair, every muscle screaming in protest as they rolled her past glass walls and humming machines. Her body felt emptied out, scraped raw, but nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Her babies. Two incubators stood side by side. Too small. Too still. Her heart fractured into pieces she didn’t know how to gather. “Which one is struggling?” she whispered. The nurse hesitated. “Both,” she said gently. Ava closed her eyes. Of course. The Doctor Dr. Hargreaves didn’t believe in softening truth. He believed in survival. “Mrs. Moreau,” he said carefully, “your twins were born extremely premature. Their lungs are underdeveloped. We’re providing respiratory support, but” “But?” Ava demanded. “There’s a complication,” he continued. “Twin B has a collapsing lung and internal bleeding. Twin A is stable for now but the stress is causing oxygen deprivation.” Ava’s hands curled into fists

Quad POV AvaThe alarm didn’t stop.It screamed.A shrill, relentless sound that tore through Ava’s skull and shredded the last fragile threads holding her upright. It felt as though the noise was inside her chest, vibrating against her ribs, echoing through the hollow space left by the child she had already lost.“Mrs. Moreau,” the doctor said urgently, already snapping on gloves, eyes fixed on the failing monitor, “we need consent now.”Consent.The word struck her like a slap.Her gaze locked onto the incubator. The tiny body inside looked impossibly small, chest rising then stuttering as if even breathing required permission now. The monitor dipped again, the numbers flashing red.“I just lost one,” she whispered, voice barely there. Tears streamed unchecked, blurring everything. “I can’t please I can’t lose both.”Her knees weakened, grief and terror tangling until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.Lucien stepped closer, solid and immovable beside her. His h