Chapter 188

Chapter 188

Theodore hung up and stood, walking to the window.

He stared at the small building wrapped in warm light, as if he could see Yasmin's sleeping profile through the walls.

His web had caught every hand reaching for her.

But that intercepted blue box—it was a tiny barb lodged in his chest.

He remembered the question she'd asked him days ago.

"If this baby wasn't yours, would you still treat me this way?"

So all her anxiety, all her testing—none of it had been unfounded.

His silence and distance had left an opening. Someone had slipped through the cracks and left her alone with her doubts, right when she needed reassurance most.

Theodore grabbed his coat and shut down the wall of surveillance screens.

Some things he had to confirm in person. Some words he had to say face-to-face.

---

When Theodore pushed open the door, Yasmin was propped against the headboard, reading by the light of a small lamp.

She looked up, surprised to see him.

"Still awake?"

He didn't come closer right away. He stood in the doorway, still carrying the chill of the night air.

The forged report in the surveillance room and Scarlett's venomous message were thorns buried deep where no one could see.

"Couldn't sleep." Theodore shut the door. The room's warmth chased away the cold clinging to him.

He walked to the bed but didn't sit. He just stood there, looking down at her.

The lamp cast shadows upward across his face, making his features look sharper than usual.

Yasmin shifted under his gaze and closed her book. "Did something happen?"

Theodore didn't answer. Instead, he asked, his voice rougher than normal, "That question you asked the other day."

Yasmin blinked, then realized what he meant.

"If this baby wasn't yours, would you still treat me this way?"

She'd assumed he wouldn't answer. That it would become another topic buried under their silence.

Theodore looked into her eyes. Each word came slow and deliberate.

"Yasmin, my answer is yes."

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully—or making some kind of resolution.

"Scarlett had something smuggled in. A fake medical report. She wanted you to think something was wrong with the baby. To make you leave." He kept it simple, just the bare facts. "I've dealt with it."

Yasmin's heart sank, then slowly rose again.

Her fingers tightened around the book until her knuckles went white.

She'd imagined a hundred possibilities. But not this.

Theodore watched the emotions flicker across her face. His throat worked.

He wanted to say something—to apologize, to admit he'd been an ass, to promise he'd never leave her to face things alone again.

But when the words reached his lips, they felt hollow.

In the end, he just reached out and covered her hand where it rested on her belly.

His palm was dry and warm, wrapping around her cool fingers with quiet, unshakable certainty.

"It won't happen again," he said.

Not some grand vow. Just a simple promise.

Yasmin looked at him. Her eyes burned.

She turned toward the window, trying to force the wetness back.

Then she felt it—a sharp contraction in her abdomen. A warm rush she couldn't control.

The sheets soaked through in seconds.

Yasmin froze.

Theodore reacted faster. He glanced down, and his face changed instantly.

For the first time, that unshakable composure cracked. Panic and helplessness flooded in.

"Doctor!" Theodore practically roared, slamming the emergency call button by the bed.

The shrill alarm tore through the quiet night.

In under thirty seconds, the door flew open. The medical team on standby rushed in.

Obstetrician, midwife, nurses—everything moved like a well-rehearsed drill.

"Mr. Prescott, please step outside. We need to examine Mrs. Prescott."

Theodore was politely ushered out. He stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door, feeling utterly powerless for the first time in his life.

Ryan arrived to find him like that.

"Boss…"

Theodore ignored him, eyes locked on the crack beneath the door.

Time crawled. Every second felt like a century.

Finally, the door opened.

A nurse wheeled Yasmin out. Her hair was damp with sweat, her face pale, but her eyes were alert.

"Mrs. Prescott, you're dilated to three centimeters. We're taking you to the delivery room now."

Theodore immediately followed, gripping her hand tightly.

Her hand was cold. He tried to warm it with his own.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here." Theodore leaned down and whispered in her ear.

Yasmin looked at him and smiled weakly. She didn't say anything.

The delivery room doors closed. The red "Surgery in Progress" sign lit up.

Theodore was shut out again.

This wait was even worse than the last.

Time blurred.

Then—a loud, clear cry pierced the air.

Theodore's rigid body finally relaxed.

The door opened. A nurse walked out carrying a bundle, beaming. "Congratulations, Mr. Prescott! Mother and baby are both healthy!"

---

One Week Later – The Prescott Estate

A small family gathering was underway. No outsiders—just the closest family.

Mr. Percy Prescott cradled his newborn great-grandson, grinning ear to ear. The baby slept soundly, little mouth working as if dreaming of something delicious.

"Look at that! He's the spitting image!" Percy bounced the baby gently. "That nose, that mouth—exactly like Theo when he was little!"

Noah stood on his tiptoes, peering curiously at his baby brother.

He reached out one tiny finger and poked the baby's chubby cheek.

"He's so ugly," Noah announced seriously. "All wrinkly. Like a little old man."

The whole table burst into laughter.

Yasmin sat beside Theodore, wrapped in a soft cashmere shawl.

Her color had returned. She smiled softly, watching her two sons, her eyes full of warmth.

Theodore ladled a bowl of warm soup and placed it beside her.

"Have you thought of a name?" he asked.

Yasmin shook her head. "You choose."

Theodore thought for a moment, gazing at the tiny new member of their family.

"Sebastian."

Yasmin repeated it silently. Sebastian. It was perfect.

Veda brought out a plate of fresh-cut fruit, smiling brightly. "The Prescott family is going to keep getting better and better."

---

Meanwhile – Thousands of Miles Away, Border Jungle

A manhunt had just ended in failure.

Dozens of armed tactical officers had surrounded an abandoned cabin hidden in a mountain hollow.

When they broke down the door, the place was empty. Only a half-eaten military ration can still sat on the table, faintly warm.

"Command, target escaped! Repeat, target escaped!"

On the other side of the jungle, Henry stumbled through knee-high grass.

One arm was injured, hastily wrapped in cloth. Blood seeped through, staining the fabric red.

Two of his remaining men followed behind him.

"Boss, our people… they're all gone," one of them panted. "The entire domestic network's been dismantled. What do we do now?"

Henry stopped and looked back toward where they'd come from. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance.

He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a satellite phone wrapped in layers of plastic, dialing an encrypted number.

"It's me."

A cold voice answered.

"Mission failed?"

"Theodore's tougher than we thought." Henry wiped blood from his lip, eyes like a wolf backed into a corner. "But I'm still alive."

"Alive means there's still a chance."

"I need support. New identity. New channels."

"Done." The voice on the other end agreed without hesitation. "But this is the last time. Fail again, and you'll stay there forever—keeping your dead buddies company."

Henry hung up, removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the grass.

He stared toward the horizon, where city lights painted the sky, and a cold smile curved his lips.

He'd lost this round.

But he wasn't out of the game yet.

As long as he could still breathe, this wasn't over.