Ariana's POV
Eight months.
Eight months of silence.
Eight months of blinking at ceilings and listening to the rhythm of machines keeping me barely alive.
Eight months of trying to scream with a throat that refused to obey, of trying to move a limb that felt like it belonged to a corpse.
I was supposed to be healing… but some days, I swear it felt like I was dying more slowly than before.
Some mornings, I could twitch a finger. Other days—nothing. My whole arm would go cold again, limp and foreign. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones.
They were sabotaging me.
Not all of them. But someone.
The pills, the injections, the whispering behind closed doors when they thought I couldn't hear—I heard everything. And every time I tried to fight back, my body betrayed me again.
But today… something felt different.
I focused hard on my hand.
And… it moved.
Just a twitch. Then again.
My heart pounded as I tried my leg—and it responded too, slow and shaky like a newborn foal, but moving.
Tears filled my eyes. I even managed to part my lips—air pushed out of my throat in a weak, raspy breath. I wasn't healed… but I was fighting.
I wasn't broken. Not completely.
Then—the door creaked open.
I turned my eyes slowly toward the entrance, praying for a nurse, for my mother, for anyone but—
Ethan.
No. No no no.
His eyes widened the moment he saw me—my slightly lifted arm, my barely parted lips.
"You're recovering?" he said, voice low and cold, stepping into the room like a shadow.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. But my heart thundered in my chest like a war drum.
His expression twisted into something ugly. "How is that possible? I told her to make sure you wouldn't recover."
He was talking about the nurse.
Oh God. It was true. They were killing me.
He stepped closer, slow and menacing, his eyes burning with the fear of losing control.
"I should've pulled your plug months ago," he whispered darkly. "You're ruining everything."
I tried to scream. Nothing came out.
Then—the door burst open again.
A nurse walked in, the one who had been tending to me all this time. The one I had suspected.
Now… I wasn't so sure.
She stopped at the sight of us, locking eyes with Ethan like two wolves in a standoff.
"Why is she recovering?" he spat. "I told you—make sure she never moves again. Let her rot quietly."
The nurse didn't flinch. She smiled—smiled.
"Lower your voice, Mr. Cole," she said calmly, placing the metal tray down beside me. "You want someone to hear you? Maybe add another suspicion to the long list tied to your name?"
"You think this is funny?" he hissed, stepping closer.
The nurse raised a brow, unbothered. "Your mistress is in labor. You should be there if you still care about the heir you're so desperate for. Hanging around your half-dead wife doesn't look good."
He glared. Hard. His jaw clenched as he stared at her, then back at me. I thought for a moment—just a moment—that he would lunge. Kill me right there. But instead, he turned with a storm in his eyes and slammed the door behind him.
I exhaled shakily—if you could call it an exhale at all.
The nurse turned back to me, lifting a syringe and inserting it carefully into my IV line. My heart raced. Was she helping me—or finishing the job?
"I know what you're thinking," she whispered, her voice softer now. "You don't trust me. I don't blame you."
She injected the dose.
"But this… this will help. I promise."
I stared at her, helpless. Trapped.
She leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
"You need to get out of here. Soon. This place isn't safe for you, Ariana."
And with that, she walked out.
Leaving me once again…
Alone.
Unmoving.
Afraid.
But for the first time in months…
Hope stirred in me again.
****************
Author's POV
"ARGHHHHHHHH!"
Delilah's screams ripped through the labor room like thunder, raw and agonizing. Sweat soaked her forehead, her mascara smudged from tears, her knuckles white from gripping the edge of the hospital bed.
She had been pushing for what felt like an eternity. Every contraction came like a tidal wave, crashing over her, leaving her breathless and broken.
"Just a little more, Miss Delilah," one of the nurses urged gently. "You're doing great—"
"Don't tell me I'm doing great!" Delilah screamed through gritted teeth, panting. "This baby is trying to split me in two!"
The doors swung open suddenly, and Ethan rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed, guilt flickering in his features for not being there earlier.
"I'm here," he said quickly, moving to her side and grabbing her trembling hand. "Baby, I'm here now. It's going to be okay. I promise."
Delilah turned her furious, tear-stricken face toward him.
"Easy for you to say!" she spat. "You're not the one trying to force a seven-pound demon out of your body!"
She let out another scream, her back arching as pain gripped her again. Her body shook with exhaustion, her skin pale, her energy almost gone.
Nurses exchanged worried glances.
Ethan noticed.
"What's going on?" he barked. "Why isn't she pushing the baby out? It's been hours!"
That's when the lead doctor pulled him aside, his face solemn.
"Mr. Cole, we need to talk—now."
Ethan followed him out into the hallway, anxiety crawling under his skin.
The doctor sighed, pausing before he spoke. "Delilah has a rare uterine condition. Her body isn't responding well to the stress of labor. The baby is stuck, and if we wait much longer… we'll lose both of them."
"What do you mean?" Ethan asked, voice sharp.
"We can try an emergency procedure… but it comes down to this: we may only be able to save one."
The air turned to ice.
"You're asking me to choose?" Ethan whispered, stunned.
"I'm asking you to decide—now. The mother or the child?"
Ethan stood still. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his mind racing.
Delilah's screams echoed faintly from the other room. He closed his eyes briefly, and a cold shadow passed over his expression.
"Save the baby," he said, his voice devoid of hesitation.
The doctor blinked. "Are you sure?"
Ethan nodded once. "That child carries everything we've worked for. The inheritance… the
legacy. The baby is the future. Do whatever it takes."
The doctor didn't argue. He simply turned and walked back toward the OR, calling out orders.
*****