Billionaire Contract Marriage: Her Quest のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Sophia's POVWe brought the twins home on day four.Not day three like we'd hoped. The hospital wanted extra monitoring for the surprise twins. Making sure both were feeding well, maintaining temperature, all the checks.Four days of me recovering while learning to nurse two babies simultaneously."This is insane," I said to David on day three, while he changed Alex's diaper."Completely insane.""How did we not know?""I've stopped asking that question. We're here now. Two babies. We adapt.""Adapt. Right. Easy.""I didn't say easy."Claudia finished eating first. Always did. She was efficient. Alex took his time."We need two of everything," David said, surveying the hospital room already overflowing with baby supplies."Two car seats. Two cribs. Two bassinets. Two swings. Two—""I get it. Two of everything. Emma's already ordering online. Your grandparents are buying out baby stores. We'll have more stuff than space.""We'll need it."He wasn't wrong.---Going home was an operatio

Sophia's POVSix weeks postpartum, and I had my first appointment with Dr. Patterson.Checkup. Physical exam. Making sure I'd healed properly from delivering the surprise twins.Sarah had the twins. Maria had Isabella. David was at work—his first full day back in three weeks.I was alone in a car. Driving. By myself.It felt surreal."How are you feeling?" Dr. Patterson asked after the exam."Physically? Fine. Everything's healed. No complications.""And mentally?"I hesitated. "Tired. Overwhelmed.""That's honest. Are you experiencing any postpartum depression? Anxiety?""I don't know. How do you tell the difference between postpartum depression and just normal exhaustion from having three kids under three?""That's a fair question. Tell me what you're experiencing.""I cry a lot. Usually while feeding one of the twins. Sometimes both. I feel like I'm failing constantly. Isabella won't talk to me most days. The twins are on different sleep schedules despite everyone's best efforts. I

Sophia's POV Week ten. Sarah said it would get easier at twelve weeks. She didn't mention the part where everything else falls apart first. --- It started with a board meeting I couldn't miss. Hartley Global had been circling one of our subsidiary accounts for three months. Marcus Chen — no relation to Detective Chen — was their lead acquisitions director, and he'd chosen today, specifically today, to push for a sit-down with Ashford-Kane leadership. Emma called at seven a.m. "He won't reschedule. I've tried twice. He's flying back to Singapore tonight." "I'll be there by nine." I hung up. Looked at the twins in their swings. Alex staring at the ceiling fan with the focused intensity of a philosophy professor. Claudia making small fist movements at nothing in particular. Sarah wasn't due until eight-thirty. David had a deposition at eight. "I can cancel," he said immediately, reading my face. "You can't cancel a deposition." "I can delay it." "David. Go.

Sophia's POVThe beach house was exactly what David had described.Private. Quiet. Three hours from the city and what felt like three decades away from everything else.We arrived on a Friday afternoon. David driving. Sarah in the back with the twins in their car seats. Isabella pressed against the window watching the landscape change from highway gray to coastal green, narrating everything she saw with the focused enthusiasm of a nature documentary presenter."Mama. Mama. MAMA. Cows.""I see them.""Why are they outside?""Because they live outside.""Bella lives inside.""You do.""Bella doesn't want to live outside.""That's good. We live inside."She processed this. "Mama. Mama. WATER."The ocean appeared between the tree line. Silver-blue and enormous.Isabella went completely silent.First time in three hours.---The house was cedar-sided, weathered to a soft gray. Wide porch facing the water. The kind of place that had been loved for decades by people who understood what still

Sophia's POVThe last night at the beach house, Isabella couldn't sleep.Not the overtired protest kind of sleeplessness. Not the negotiating kind. Something quieter. She appeared in the doorway of our room at ten p.m., rabbit in hand, expression serious."Bella can't sleep.""Why not?""Thinking too much."David sat up. "What are you thinking about?"She considered how to explain it. "When we go home. The beach goes away.""The beach stays here. We go home.""But Bella won't see it anymore.""Not until next time.""When is next time?""We don't know yet."She absorbed this with the particular grief of someone encountering the concept of impermanence for the first time. Her face did something complicated."That's sad," she said."It is a little sad. But that's what makes it special. If we lived here always, it wouldn't feel like this."She thought about it. Unconvinced but willing to suspend judgment."Can Bella sleep in the middle?"David moved over. I moved over.She climbed in betw