Alle Kapitel von Nights I sold to him : Kapitel 41 – Kapitel 50

The ambulance doors bang open.Cold air hits my face.I’m on the stretcher, rolling fast. Hallways blur. Lights flash overhead.Noah runs beside me, his hand gripping mine tightly. His face is white, his eyes wild, tears streaming down his cheeks.“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, my voice small and broken.He leans over me, his face hovering above mine. “Never. I’m right here.” His voice cracks. Tears drop onto my cheek, hot and desperate.We burst into the ER.Doctors swarm around me. Questions fire rapidly.“How much bleeding?”“Pain level?”Noah answers, his voice steady but trembling.I start crying. Quiet at first. Then loud. Sobbing uncontrollably.“The baby… please save the baby.”A nurse squeezes my hand gently. “We’re trying.”They rush me into the ultrasound room.The gel is cold. The wand presses hard against my stomach.I hold my breath.Noah does too, his hand crushing mine.The screen flickers.Then—The sound.Thump… thump……thump.Slow. Weak. Fading.The doctor’s face tigh

I stare at the photo on the phone.The hand on Rose.Small. Female.The ring.Silver with a sapphire.Emily’s ring.I know it. She wore it every time she visited. The day she held Rose. Cried with joy. Smiled softly.The caption burns into my chest.Pity she won’t make it home.My scream wakes Noah—raw, broken.He sits up fast. “What? What is it?” His voice is rough with sleep, fear snapping awake instantly.I shove the phone at him, hands shaking. “Look.”He takes it. His eyes widen. His face drains of color.“Emily?” His voice drops, shaking with fear and rage mixed together.I nod, tears flooding, sobbing. “It’s her ring. Her hand.”He zooms in, breath catching. “That’s not possible.” His voice cracks.I cry harder. “She was here. With Rose. Alone.”He stands and paces, fists clenched, hands shaking. “Call the police. Now.”“Noah—wait.” I grab his arm.He stops, turns, eyes wild, tears starting. “Wait for what?” His voice breaks.I swallow through sobs. “Look at the angle. The ligh

The note in Rose’s crib.She’s mine.Bloodline.The words burn into my eyes. I read them again. And again. My hand shakes.Rose sleeps beside me now—in our bed. Safe.For now.Noah stands over the crib, face pale. Rage held tight. Tears already dry on his cheeks. He turns and looks at me, voice low and raw.“Bloodline?”I nod. Fresh tears spill.“Victoria thinks Rose is hers?”He rubs his face slowly, hard.“She’s crazy.” His voice cracks.I cry quietly.“Our baby. She’s ours.”He sits beside me, takes my hand, squeezes tight.“I know.” His voice soft. Breaking.“But she’s out. Free. Bail.”Tears blur everything.“How?”He shakes his head.“Money. Connections. Lawyers.”I break harder.“She was in the room. With Rose.”He nods, eyes dark, rage building.“I’ll end this.” His voice is low. Dangerous.I look at him, eyes wide.“Noah.”He cups my face—gentle hands, rough thumbs wiping tears.“I mean it. No more.”“I’m scared.”He pulls me close, holds me tight, rocking back and forth.“Me

Rose is back in my arms.Warm.Breathing.Crying softly.Safe.I hold her tight, rocking slowly in the nursery chair. Tears fall onto her blanket—joy and fear tangled together.Noah stands over us, one hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. His eyes are red, his face exhausted, but there’s a small, wet smile.“She’s here,” he says. His voice is rough. Cracked.I look up at him, tears spilling.“Yeah.”He kneels, kisses Rose’s forehead, then mine—long and gentle.“We got her back.”I nod, crying quietly.“But why let her go?”His face darkens. Rage settles in, quiet and cold. His tears dry.“I don’t know.” His voice drops. Raw.We sit in silence, rocking back and forth.“They didn’t take the money,” I whisper, my voice small.He nods.“A warning.”Tears spill faster.“Or a game.”I break harder.“They were in our home. Took her. And gave her back.”He rubs his face slowly, hard.“A message.”I look at him, eyes wide.“What message?”He looks down at Rose, now asleep, peaceful.“That th

The note is still on the nursery floor.She’s mine.Bloodline.I pick it up.My hands shake as I read it again, like the words will somehow change.They don’t.Rose sleeps peacefully in the crib. Unknowing. Her tiny chest rises and falls in a perfect rhythm. I touch her cheek—soft, warm.Tears fall. Quiet.Noah stands in the doorway, watching. His eyes are red. His face tired, stubble thick along his jaw.He walks over slowly and kneels beside the crib. His hand rests gently on my shoulder and squeezes.“She’s okay,” he says, his voice rough and cracking.I nod through my tears. “For now.”He looks at the note in my hand. His face darkens. The quiet kind of rage. His tears dry instantly.“Bloodline,” he says, voice low and raw.I look at him, eyes wide. Fresh tears spill. “She thinks Rose is hers?”He rubs his face hard. “She’s lost it.”“Our baby. Ours,” I whisper, crying harder.He sits beside me and takes my hand, squeezing tight. “I know. But the note… the DNA claim…”“How?” I cho