Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband novel Chapter 220

220 A Father’s Touch 

(Jayden) 

“But what about Ashlyn? What happens now?” I ask because as much as my baby has life, this also means hers will likely end. I can’t just ignore that. 

“She’ll be well cared for post–op and taken back to her room. The same as any patient. You’ll get time to say goodbye if that’s what’s needed.” 

I sigh in relief. “I want Ashlyn taken to the Brennan Wing. No arguments. Her mother is due this afternoon. Please make sure she has everything she needs in there with her daughter.” 

“Of course, Mr. Brennan.” 

The trip to the neonatal ward is a blur. The tiny form of my son, wrapped in a small, sterile blanket, is surrounded by the best medical equipment and minds available. 

The doctors and nurses work quickly, their hands deft and sure, ensuring that every moment counts. 

The billions in my bank don’t count for anything right now. Because sometimes the best medical care you can buy still isn’t enough. 

Winona is beside me as we follow along with the small incubator that holds my son, our son. The reality of what just happened is still sinking in. My son–my tiny, fragile son–is alive. Barely, but he’s here. 

I love him madly already. I mean, it’s incredible really. The feelings that fill me now are more intense than anything I’ve ever felt. It’s a different kind of love. 

I want him to have everything I can give him, but I’m also aware I don’t want him to have the life I’ve had growing up. He needs all the things kids need. 

Fishing, camping, mud, laughter, fun and love. Normal things. 

To know it’s okay to fail. It’s okay to make mistakes and not be perfect. 

As we step into the neonatal ward, the sounds of beeping machines and the soft murmur of voices greet us. It’s a place where every miniscule breath is fought for, where every tiny heartbeat is precious. 

I feel a lump form in my throat as I watch the medical staff attach tubes and wires to his tiny body. 

“He’s stable,” Dr. Reeves says, looking up at me with a reassuring smile. “He’s a fighter, Mr. Brennan. We’ll do everything we can to give him the best chance.” 

I nod, swallowing hard. “Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. 

The nurse who was with us in the delivery room approaches, her expression gentle. “You can hold him again in a few days but right now, would you like to touch him? We have places for your hands to go on either side.” She demonstrates. 

Winona gives me a small nod, her eyes filled with encouragement. I step forward, my heart pounding as ! reach into the incubator. My hand hovers above my son, fear and awe warring within me. 

I lower my hand gently, my fingers brushing against his tiny arm. His skin is soft, impossibly delicate, and I can feel the warmth of his life beneath my touch. I’m so scared I will break him if I touch too hard. 

+25 BONUS 

220 A Father’s Touch 

Suddenly, his tiny hand moves, and his fingers wrap around my pinky, holding on with a surprising strength. I gasp, the tears I’ve been holding back since we got to neonatal finally spilling over. 

“He’s holding on,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. “He’s really holding on.” 

“Oh, he’s a gripper. He’s sure is holding on. But we all know it’s you who will be wrapped around his little finger.” The nurse gives me a wink, smiles and leaves us alone. 

Winona steps closer, her hand joining imine on the other side of the incubator. She strokes our son’s tiny arm, her touch gentle and loving. We share a look, a moment of silent understanding. This is our son. 

As I stand there, connected to my son in the most profound way, a flood of emotions washes over me. I see what I missed with Abby, the moments I wasn’t there for, the connection I lost without ever knowing. 

I do feel that connection with her now. Since the moment I met her. But he’s so small and this is somehow different. 

Now, with this tiny life holding on to me, I feel a surge of protectiveness and love that is almost urgent. Nothing can happen to him. I can’t deal with it if it does. 

Yet I know there are people facing this kind of loss every day. 

I don’t know how they do it. 

I understand now. I understand fully why Winona is so fiercely protective of Abby, why she made the decisions she did. I understand my mother’s possessiveness of me, even if I can’t condone how she expressed it.