Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 171

Chapter 171

Zoey’s POV

The days that followed passed in a blur of slow but steady recovery. Every morning I woke a little clearer, a little stronger, a little more desperate to finally meet my son. The doctors ran their daily checks by testing my reflexes, my coordination, and my focus. I did everything they asked. I answered every question, took every pill, pushed through every ache, because I knew each small step brought me closer to Matt.

On the fourth morning after waking from the coma, Dr. Porter finally said the words I’d been praying to hear. “Zoey, you’re ready to be moved to a regular room. And… if you feel up to it, you can meet your baby today.”

My heart exploded with joy, fear, and disbelief all tangled together. After more than ten days since the accident, I was finally going to see my son. To touch him. To hold his tiny hand.

“Can I go now?” I blurted, trying to sit up too fast.

“Easy there,” Dr. Porter said with a soft laugh. “First we’ll get you transferred, settled into your new room, have you eat something. Then, if you’re still feeling well, we’ll go to the NICU.”

Leaving the ICU felt like crossing a finish line. It meant my body was healing, that I no longer needed constant monitoring. Christian never let go of my hand the entire time, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against my skin as if he was afraid I’d disappear again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked for what had to be the tenth time that morning.

“Nervous,” I admitted. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t know how to hold him? What if—”

“Zoey,” Christian interrupted, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re his mother. It’ll come naturally.”

I tried to eat lunch, but every bite felt heavy. My stomach was too full of butterflies. Each minute dragged like an hour. Then, finally, around two in the afternoon, a nurse appeared at the door pushing a wheelchair.

“Ready to meet your son?” she asked with a warm smile.

The tears started before I could even nod. Christian wheeled me down the hallway, his hands steady on the chair handles, but I could feel the tremor in him-the same storm of emotion building inside me.

The NICU was a soft symphony of quiet beeps and gentle voices. It was filled with the hum of machines, the muted rustle of nurses moving from one incubator to another, the glow of soft lights protecting the babies’ fragile eyes. And in the middle of it all, in a small clear incubator, was him.

My son, Matt.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, both hands flying to my mouth.

He was smaller than I’d imagined, yet more perfect than anything I’d ever seen. So tiny, so fragile, but so unmistakably alive. There were tubes and wires, monitors tracking every breath and heartbeat—but all I saw was my baby. Our baby.

Dr. Sanders came over with a warm, reassuring smile.

“Zoey, it’s wonderful to see you up. This is Matt. And he’s been waiting for his mommy.”

“Can I-can I touch him?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Of course,” she said. “Let’s get you settled first.”

Christian moved the chair closer to the incubator, and Dr. Sanders guided me through the steps. She helped me sanitize my hands, then opened a small round window on the side of the incubator.

“You can reach in here,” she explained softly. “He’ll feel your warmth. Your touch.”

My heart pounded as I slid my hand inside. His skin was the softest thing I’d ever touched. I brushed my fingertips along his tiny arm, and he stirred faintly.

“Hi, my love,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “It’s me. It’s your mom.”

As if he knew my voice, Matt’s eyes fluttered open. They were blue, like Christian’s, but the way he looked at me so alertly and so intently was all mine. He studied my face, his little brow furrowing as if memorizing me.

“He knows you,” Christian murmured, his own voice thick with emotion. “Look at him. He knows you.

“Hey there, my little warrior,” I whispered, tracing the tiniest of fingers. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to get here. But I’m here now, sweetheart.”

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