All Chapters of Five years later, My Billionaire Ex-husband wants me back: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

VanessaThe air in Garrett’s study felt like ice water pressing against my throat.His shadow fell over me, tall, rigid, and completely devoid of the brotherly warmth that had protected me my entire life. His gray eyes were pinned to mine, stripping away every excuse, every aristocratic defense, until I felt as bare and defenseless as a condemned prisoner on a scaffold."I don't know anything, Garrett!" The words tumbled out of my mouth in a panicked rush, high-pitched and strained. "I swear to you! Janet never said a word to me! Why on earth would she confide in me? We barely spoke unless Mother forced us to sit across from each other at Sunday dinners!""Do not lie to me, Vanessa," Garrett said. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't have to. The quiet, lethal precision in his tone was infinitely more terrifying than a roar. "Janet had three appointments at Saint Jude’s Medical Pavilion in the three weeks leading up to the Grand Regency. Private consultations. She used cash from her p

JanetThe beam of Daniel’s headlights cut through the swirling coastal fog, turning the highway into a gray tunnel.Every bump in the road sent a jolt of fire through my pelvis. I leaned as far back into the passenger seat as my enormous belly would allow, fingers digging into the upholstery until my knuckles ached. Beside me, Daniel had both hands clamped on the steering wheel, his jaw locked in a rigid line, his eyes flicking between the road and my face every three seconds."We’re four minutes out, Janet," he said, his voice forced into a calm cadence that barely disguised the sheer panic beneath it. "Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.""It's too early, Daniel," I gasped, my words hitching as another wave clamped down across my lower back. "Thirty-four weeks... they still need more time. Gabriella isn't even three pounds yet. She can't be born like this. She isn't ready.""You did everything right," he insisted, his voice cracking slightly. "Thirty-four weeks

Janet"There is no medical benefit to waiting any longer, Janet," Dr. Laura said, her voice a calm, immovable pillar against the sterile air. "Baby Four's placenta is no longer sustaining her effectively. Keeping her inside now carries far more risk than delivering her into the hands of our neonatal team. We go tonight."A violent tremor tore through my limbs, but beneath the icy wave of raw panic, an unexpected current of profound relief surfaced.The endless weeks of lying still, the agonizing countdowns, the terror of waking in the dead of night to check for faint movements—it was over. The waiting had ended. The battle was moving from the fragile dark of my womb to the bright, open arena of medicine."Okay," I whispered, my voice hoarse, tears leaking down into my hairline. "Get them out. Keep them safe."Within minutes, the antepartum suite transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful, high-velocity motion.Nurses swarmed the bed, disconnecting telemetry cables, checking surgical I

Janet"I'm not saying he can never know, Daniel," I answered, my voice steady despite the raw ache in my abdomen.I looked down at my hands, tracing the faint red band on my ring finger where the Crawford diamond used to sit. The phantom weight of that ring was gone, but the scars carved by the family who gave it to me were not."I just refuse to tell him now," I said, meeting Daniel’s gaze. "Not while I'm trapped in a hospital gown, bleeding and recovering from surgery. Not while four fragile infants are hooked to monitors in the NICU, fighting for ounces. Look at who Garrett is. Look at who his mother is."A cold shudder ran down my spine as memories I had tried to bury surfaced in sharp, violent succession.I remembered standing in the rain outside the Crawford gates, clutching a single suitcase while private security locked the iron doors. I remembered the cold, predatory corporate lawyers dispatched to my hospital room days later, waving non-disclosure agreements and threatening

GarrettThe private hangar at the municipal airfield smelled of kerosene and damp concrete. Rain hammered against the corrugated roof, a hollow, rhythmic pounding that mirrored the dull ache behind my temples.Beside me, Arthur stood with his coat collar turned up, keeping watch on the lone perimeter door.Across a folding metal table sat Julian Vance. The photographer looked nothing like the smug predator who had shaken down Bianca for two hundred thousand dollars weeks ago. His leather jacket was scuffed, his eyes bloodshot, and his hands trembled as he cradled a lukewarm paper cup of black coffee. Arthur’s team had picked him up at a boarding house near the state line three hours before he could board a flight to Costa Rica."I have nothing to say to you, Crawford," Vance muttered, his voice raw, refusing to meet my eyes. "Call the police. Sue me for civil trespass. My lawyer will have me out on bail before dinner.""Your lawyer won't be answering your calls, Julian," I said, my vo