Once secure in Petty's arms, the wailing toddler instinctively grabbed handfuls of her sterile gown. His cries gradually tapered off, and he nuzzled his feverish little face into her chest, letting out tiny, exhausted hiccups.
Franco froze in his tracks, a complex, glimmering emotion surging in his dark eyes as he watched them.
The medical staff in the ICU were equally stunned. When the doors first opened, they hadn't realized who Franco had brought in. It wasn't until they saw the face behind the protective visor that they recognized Petty.
Her sudden appearance caught everyone off guard. After keeping the secret for so long, the team had assumed Mr. White wouldn't reveal the truth about Abacus until after the bone marrow transplant was deemed a complete success. After all, compared to the year they had already endured, a month or two more of secrecy was a small price to pay for certainty.
But taking one look at Petty's devastated state, the staff quickly realized something drastic must have happened—something so out of control that it forced Mr. White's hand. As for Abacus eagerly reaching out for Petty, none of the medical staff were particularly surprised. Maternal instinct was a powerful, undeniable force.
Petty was entirely consumed by the little boy in her arms, oblivious to the stares of the room. But she was severely exhausted. The adrenaline that had carried her down the hall was fading fast. As she swayed on her feet, clutching the baby, a strong arm instantly banded around her waist. Franco braced his broad chest against her back, anchoring her firmly.
"Let's sit down, sweetheart," he murmured. With one arm supporting her waist and his free hand gently cupping Abacus's head, Franco kept his gaze locked on Petty's tear-streaked face. His grip on her tightened protectively.
Petty bit her trembling lip, nodding through her silent tears. She let Franco guide her to the edge of the baby's specialized crib, and the medical team wordlessly stepped back to give them space.


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