The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 187

Chapter 209 Hi, baby

Mia’s POV

I was finally strong enough to be wheeled to the NICU. The actual sight of my sons-not through a screen-overwhelmed me completely. They were impossibly small Baby A seemed more active, his little fists waving. Baby B was quieter, more still.

“Can I touch them?” I asked the nurse.

“Yes, through the ports. But hygiene is crucial.”

I reached through the isolette opening for Baby A. His skin was warm, softer than anything I’d ever felt. When I touched his palm, his fingers curled around mine.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered. “I’m your mama.”

The tears came then, pouring out.

“Careful,” the nurse reminded gently. “We can’t let any fluids inside the isolette. Premature babies have extremely compromised immune systems.”

I nodded, wiping my face with my other hand before reaching for Baby B. He was equally tiny, equally perfect.

“Have you thought about names?” the nurse asked.

“Not really. I kept thinking I had more time.” I looked at their little faces. “Maybe… Alexander for Baby A? After my grandfather. And Ethan for Baby B, after my mother’s father.”

Mom, standing behind my wheelchair, let out a small sob. “Mom would love that. She’d be so happy.”

“Mama loved books,” I said to the twins. “She read to me every night. I’ll read to you too, as soon as you’re strong enough.”

We stayed for an hour. I memorized every detail-the shape of their tiny noses, the flutter of their eyelids as they slept, the whisper-soft sound of their breathing on the ventilators.

Back in my room, exhaustion hit like a wall. Dr. Harrison had warned this would happen-that recovery would be slow, with good days and setbacks.

“Rest now,” Mom said, adjusting my pillows. “Scarlett and I will be right here when you wake up.”

But as sleep pulled me under, one thought dominated: Why would Kyle choose to recover somewhere else? After everything we’d been through, why the distance?

Didn’t he want to see the babies?

My mind drifted to those last moments before I’d lost consciousness. Kyle’s voice, desperate. His hands on mine. The fear in his eyes as he promised… what had he promised?

But the morphine had me now, pulling me into dreamless sleep where questions couldn’t follow.

I woke again to dim lighting. Evening. Or maybe early morning. The hospital had that timeless quality.

Mom was still there, reading in the chair beside my bed. She looked up when I stirred.

“How do you feel, sweetie?”

“Sore. Thirsty.” I struggled to sit up. “How are the boys?”

“Good. Stable. The doctors are very pleased with their progress.”

I accepted the water cup she handed me, sipping slowly. My thoughts were clearer now. The fog of anesthesia lifting.

1/3.

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“Mam

“Yes?”

“Tell me about Kyle, mom. The truth”

She set her book down. Hesitated.

“Please,” I added.

She sighed. “He was shot protecting you. Lost a lot of blood. They had to remove part of his damaged lung. He was in surgery for eight hours.”

I absorbed this.

“Critical for the first forty-eight hours. But Kyle… well, he’s strong. Stubborn, even when he’s half-dead.”

“So why isn’t he here?”

Mom chose her words carefully. “When you were still critical, he barely left your side. Refused treatment for himself. Morton and his doctor had to essentially kidnap him to the OR.”

I could picture that. “And then?”

“I don’t know, Mia. It said he spent hours with the boys. Just sitting there, watching them. And the next day, he asked to be transferred.

I mulled this over. It didn’t sound like Kyle. Even at his worst, he’d been possessive, controlling. This voluntary distance was…

odd.

“Can I call him?”

“The doctor said.

“Just once. I just want to know he’s okay.”

Mom reluctantly handed me her phone. I dialed Kyle’s number from memory. It rang three times before someone answered.

“Mrs. Williams?” A female voice. Professional. “This is Emily, Mr. Branson’s private nurse. How can I help you?”

“This is… this is Mia. Is Kyle there?”

“Mrs. Branson! He’ll be pleased to hear you’re awake. He’s been asking for updates constantly.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s resting right now. The pain medication makes him sleep quite a bit. Can I take a message?”

Disappointment washed over me. “Just… tell him I called. That I’m okay. That the boys are okay.”

“Of course. I’ll let him know as soon as he wakes.”

The call was unsatisfying. I handed the phone back to Mom.

“He’s resting,” I said. “Apparently on strong pain meds.”

Mom nodded. “His injury was severe, Mia. It will take time.”

I knew what she meant.

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