All Chapters of Oops.. I Fell for My Ex Again: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Catherine was fourteen months old.She didn’t toddle anymore. She walked with intention.Unsteady only when distracted. Determined when focused.The apartment had shifted again to match her growth. The foam activity mats were gone. In their place stood a small wooden table scarred by spoon impacts and bite marks. Board books lived in low stacks. Cabinet locks remained. Cameras remained.Catherine crossed the living room clutching a picture book upside down.“Book,” she announced.“Yes,” Alex said.Catherine dropped it at her feet and lifted her arms.“Up.”Alex lifted her without hesitation. No dizziness. No fluttering pulse. Her heart rate sat steady at seventy-eight.Catherine’s vocabulary hovered around ten words now. Mama. Dada. No. More. Up. Down. Cat. Ball. Book. Bye.She pointed toward Dominic’s laptop.“Dada.”He looked over and smiled. “Always.”Fourteen months old. Fourteen pounds, nine ounces. Recent echo: structurally normal. No arrhythmic events recorded.Healthy.Thrivin

Three days later, Catherine was chasing the cat again.“Up!” she demanded, pointing at the couch.Her fever was gone. Energy restored. Heart steady. The crisis had passed as quickly as it had come.To her, nothing had happened.To Alex, everything had shifted.She sat at the kitchen table, Dominic across from her. Marcus filled one square of the laptop screen. Patricia another.“I’m meeting her,” Alex said.Dominic’s jaw tightened. “That’s exactly what she wants.”“I know. But I need to hear the offer directly. I need to understand what we’re actually refusing.”Patricia adjusted her glasses. “Any agreement would require extensive review. Months, likely.”“They’ll record everything,” Marcus added. “Every word becomes leverage.”“Let them,” Alex replied. “I want to see her face when I say no.”Dominic didn’t argue again.Alex picked up the card from the flowers—Dr. Helena Cray’s number printed in understated black.She typed.I’ll meet. Neutral location. My terms.The reply came in und

For three days, Alex lived inside a spreadsheet of consequences.Columns labeled Protect Catherine and Protect Others.Rows filled with risk assessments, legal projections, worst-case scenarios.Dominic watched her move through the apartment like a strategist preparing for war. She barely slept. She reread Mrs. Chen’s emails. Replayed Dr. Cray’s voice in her head.Phase Two in four days.Catherine sat on the living room rug stacking wooden blocks, oblivious to the fact that her mother was deciding whether to make her the most recognizable toddler in the world.On the third morning, Alex closed her laptop.“I’m doing it.”Dominic didn’t ask what she meant.“Going public,” she said. “Quiet warnings didn’t work. They punished the families. The only thing I haven’t tried is making this too big for her to control.”Dominic nodded slowly. “When?”“Now. Before Phase Two. I want the first move.”She picked up her phone and called Maya.“I need a journalist,” Alex said. “Investigative. Medical

Two weeks into Phase Two, the apartment no longer felt like a home.It felt like litigation.Medical journals covered the dining table. Legal briefs stacked in uneven towers along the hallway console. A whiteboard dominated one wall, filled with names, credentials, arrows, and deadlines.Catherine toddled between the paper piles with a wooden spoon, drumming on a stack of case law.“Mama work?” she asked, peering up at Alex.Alex forced a smile. “Yes, baby. Mama work.”Fighting for her meant seeing less of her. That irony cut deeper than anything Dr. Cray had said.Patricia stood near the whiteboard, sleeves rolled up. “Fifteen days until the hearing. We need final affidavits in ten. Depositions done in seven. Expert reports polished in five.”Marcus, laptop open, added, “Four confirmed physicians. Beijing, Dublin, Rome, Berlin. Osaka declined—government pressure. London still undecided.”Dominic scooped Catherine into his arms before she could grab a highlighted exhibit. “We’ll make

The courtroom felt smaller on Day Two.Or maybe Alex just felt smaller inside it.The protesters were louder outside—chants echoing even through thick courthouse glass. Media coverage had exploded overnight. Every legal blog, medical journal, and cable panel now dissected her daughter’s heart like it was a public utility.Catherine was home with Maya.Alex repeated that fact to herself like a grounding exercise.Safe. Home. Not here.Judge Morrison entered promptly at nine.“Respondents may present their defense.”Patricia rose, steady and composed.“Your Honor, we will demonstrate that Catherine Wolfe-Moretti is a healthy child with stable cardiac function. Experimental gene therapy is not medically indicated. Four international physicians treating patients with identical genetic profiles have submitted sworn affidavits attesting to that fact. Additionally, Catherine’s treating cardiologist of sixteen months will provide live testimony.”The clerk handed the judge a stack of document