Chapter 179

Chapter 179
Hannah's POV

The sunlight filtered through the window of the Hospital, casting long shadows across my bed. I'd been here for a week now, recovering from childbirth in a private suite that felt more like a luxury hotel than a hospital room. Outside, autumn leaves drifted past my window, golden and crimson against the clear blue sky.

I leaned back against the pillows, watching the play of light and shadow. My body was healing, but exhaustion had become my constant companion. Sleep came in shallow waves, never lasting long enough to feel truly restorative.

The Sterling family's power dynamics had shifted dramatically since I'd given birth. According to the whispers I caught from nurses and security personnel, Finn had solidified his position as the true heir. Media outlets were calling him "the rightful successor to the Sterling empire." And somewhere in the background, rumors circulated that his half-brother Richard had died from depression-related complications—a convenient story to explain his permanent disappearance.

Finn had stationed guards throughout the entire floor, blocking all visitors except those he personally approved. The hallway outside my room remained eerily quiet, punctuated only by the soft footsteps of nurses and the occasional murmur of conversation.

In my half-awake state, I caught fragments of information that drifted through my door. Victoria had been hospitalized briefly from exhaustion but had recovered quickly after meeting her great-grandson. A nutritionist had come by to discuss breast milk, but Finn had arranged for medication to relieve my discomfort, understanding my decision not to nurse. Victoria had personally tested every premium baby formula available, even acquiring a baby nutrition research facility to ensure only the best for the Sterling heir.

Edward mentioned that Finn had visited the baby once at the mansion. Apparently, the infant had "delivered a special gift" right into Finn's designer suit, which Edward reported with barely concealed amusement. He also told me the baby was healthy and had unmistakable Lancaster features, particularly around the eyes.

I never asked to see my baby. Not once.

When the doctor had tried to place the infant in my arms immediately after birth, I'd turned my head away. I'd only asked if the child was healthy, if all limbs were intact. Nothing more. I refused to look at the photos and videos Amy eagerly tried to show me. Each time, I found a reason to look away.

Deep down, I knew exactly why I couldn't bear to see my child's face. One glance at those eyes—eyes that might carry the Lancaster legacy—and my carefully constructed resolve would crumble. If I saw my baby, held that tiny body against my chest, felt the weight and warmth that was half me and half Finn, I would never find the strength to walk away.

My heart would become permanently tethered to this place, to this family. The agreement I'd signed would become impossible to fulfill. So I protected myself the only way I knew how—by refusing to create a bond that would tear me apart when broken.

I was drifting between consciousness and sleep when I sensed someone in the room. Opening my eyes, I found Finn sitting beside my bed, his features drawn with fatigue. He'd removed his sunglasses, his intense gaze fixed in my direction. Despite everything that had happened, my heart still quickened at the sight of him.

"When did you get here?" I asked, managing a small smile.

"Just now," he answered curtly.

I knew he was lying. The indentation in the chair and the lingering scent of his cologne suggested he'd been sitting there for at least two hours, silently watching me sleep.

I shifted slightly, making space beside me. "Come here," I whispered, patting the empty spot.

Without a word, Finn removed his suit jacket and lay down next to me. The hospital bed was barely wide enough for both of us, forcing our bodies close together. He kissed me with unexpected urgency, his hands tracing familiar paths along my skin. Through the window, I could hear the sharp autumn wind of New York whistling between skyscrapers. A cold draft slipped through the window frame, but Finn's body was warm against mine.

His lips moved to my neck, leaving marks that would linger for days. Then suddenly, he stopped. His forehead pressed against the crook of my neck, his breathing uneven.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my hand instinctively reaching to stroke his hair.

"Nothing," he mumbled against my skin.

I felt something twist painfully in my chest. The weight of everything unsaid between us hung in the air. We lay together in silence as the skyline outside my window gradually darkened from twilight to night. Neither of us spoke, but our bodies remained pressed together, as if desperately holding onto something we both knew was ending.

The day of my discharge arrived with little fanfare. I arranged for Amy and Jack to take one car while I walked toward Edward, who waited with the second vehicle. The wind tugged at my coat as I crossed the short distance to where he stood, his face carefully composed but his eyes reflecting my own sadness.

Edward sat behind the wheel in silence as I took the passenger seat. For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

"Edward," I finally said, my voice calm and clear despite the storm inside me. "Everything has been arranged. This is the best outcome for everyone. So, it's time."

Edward's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "The child..." he began hesitantly.

I knew what troubled him. He understood that I was choosing this moment to leave because I had made my final decision about the baby.

"I'm leaving the baby with Finn," I confirmed softly. "The current Finn. I trust him with my child."

Edward nodded slowly, understanding the weight of my choice. As we pulled away from the hospital, I didn't look back at the building where I had given life to a child I would never know.