After Rejection Divorced Luna Becomes A Famous Doctor (Hailey and Dominic) novel Chapter 225

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CHAPTER HUNDRED–SEVENTYTHREE

HAILEY

When we landed, Giovanni was waiting for us, a grim expression on his face. He took our bags, and led us

to a black SUV that was parked at the curb.

“Welcome home,” he said, a small, tired smile playing on his lips.

“It’s good to be home,” Dominic said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. It was clear he was not happy to be

back.

The drive to the pack house was a blur of trees and houses, a familiar landscape that now seemed tainted

with a new and sinister undercurrent. The silence in the car was heavy and oppressive, a thick, suffocating

blanket that muffled the sounds of the city.

Liam fell asleep in my arms, his little body a warm and comfortable against my chest. I watched him

sleep, a fierce, protective love swelling in my chest. I would do anything to keep him safe, to shield him

from the darkness that had encroached upon our lives.

When we arrived at the pack house, Dominic carried Liam upstairs, and I followed, my footsteps echoing

in the grand, empty hallway.

Dominic laid Liam in his bed, and I tucked him in, a ritual that was as familiar as it was comforting. He

stirred in his sleep, a little sigh escaping his lips, and my heart ached with a fierce, protective love.

I closed the door to his room, and leaned against it, a feeling of exhaustion washing over me. The events

of the past few days had taken their toll, and I was running on empty, my emotional and physical reserves

depleted.

Dominic was waiting for me in the hallway, a look of concern etched on his face. Sweat had gathered on my forehead and the feeling of nausea settled in my stomach again, making me want to throw up once

again.

“I’m not feeling well,” I said, my voice a little shaky.

He was at my side in an instant, his arm around my waist, a steadying force that kept me from collapsing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a low, urgent murmur.

“I don’t know,” I said, my head spinning. “I just… I feel sick.”

He led me to our bedroom, and helped me into bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against my feverish skin. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on my forehead, a cool, comforting touch.

“You’re burning up,” he said, a frown creasing his brow.

Bile rose in my throat, a hot, acidic burn. I made a mad dash for the bathroom, and barely made it to the toilet before I was emptying my stomach for the second time that day.

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< CHAPTER HUNDRED–SEVENTYTHREE

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Dominic was right there, holding my hair, his other hand rubbing my back in a comforting, circular motion. I could feel the fear radiating from him no matter how much he tried to mask it.

When I was done, I leaned my head against the cool porcelain of the toilet, a wave of dizziness washing

over me.

“I’m calling a doctor,” he said, his voice a low, commanding rumble.

“No,” I said, my voice a weak protest. “I’m fine. I think it’s just something I ate.” I tried to stand up, but my legs buckled, and he caught me, lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing at all. He carried me back

to bed, and laid me down, pulling the covers up to my chin.

“You’re not fine, Hailey,” he said, a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m calling Dr. Aris. He’ll be here in a few

minutes.”

I shook my head in defiance. I was the last person anyone should be thinking about right now. Besides, I was just exhausted and stressed out. My body was reacting to the anxiety. Nothing more. “Don’t. I’m fine,

Dominic. I promise.” I tried to sit up, but the world tilted, a dizzying, disorienting spin that sent me right back against the pillows. Dominic watched me, his face a mask of stoicism, but his eyes gave him away. He was scared. “I mean it. There’s a dead stripper. The one who gave me that cryptic warning. My mental

health is shot. We have a killer on the loose and you’re worried about me? Focus on what’s important.”

“You are what’s important,” he shot back, a sudden, fierce protectiveness flashing in his eyes. “You are my

wife. The Luna of this pack. Everything else is secondary. Everything.”

He was right. I knew he was. But a part of me couldn’t help but feel like this was a distraction, a pointless

detour from the real issue at hand.

“Okay let’s make a deal, once you notice that I get worse, you can call him. For now, just hold me.” I

whispered as I felt my eyelids growing heavy.

He crawled into bed beside me, and pulled me into his arms, my head resting on his chest. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, a comforting, reassuring beat that calmed my nerves. He was right. I was being stubborn. And it wasn’t because I didn’t want to see a doctor. I didn’t want to hear what the doctor might

have to say.

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