Married To My Billionaire Nemesis
I tense up, every survival instinct I've honed over years screaming at me even through the fog of medication and exhaustion.
Mum notices and places a protective hand on Nora's back. My daughter is still curled against my chest, playing with the edge of my hospital gown.
"Come in," I say, my voice hoarse.
The door opens. A man in his early thirties walks in holding a large wicker basket filled with neatly arranged fruit, including apples, oranges, grapes, and even a small pineapple. He's wearing a simple button-down and slacks, smiling politely.