Chapter 55 Sick Ivy
Chapter 55 Sick Ivy
Ivy's POV
The world tilts sideways.
One second, I’m standing in the hallway of our penthouse, trying to button my coat with shaky fingers, the next, everything goes black. No warning. No time to brace.
Just darkness. A cold, heavy nothing.
When I finally blink back to consciousness, the world is a mess of white light and sterile air. The scent of antiseptic clings to my nostrils. My skin is cold against crisp hospital sheets. There’s a distant beeping sound, rhythmic and cruel, echoing like a countdown.
And then—
"Baby Girl," a low voice rasps beside me, wrecked and furious and mine.
"You're okay. You’re fucking okay."
Alexander.
I turn my head and see him leaning over me, his hand wrapped tight around mine like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. He’s still in the charcoal suit he wore this morning, but the jacket’s off, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, and jaw clenched like he’s seconds from breaking someone’s skull.
His eyes, God, his eyes are... Wild. Lethal. Vulnerable.
"You fainted," he says tightly. "They’re running some tests. You scared the shit out of me."
My mouth is dry. My throat aches. “I—I’m fine.”
"You’re not fucking fine," he snaps, but his voice cracks halfway through, and he grips my hand tighter. "You passed out, Ivy. Out of nowhere. I caught you just before you hit the floor."
He strokes his thumb over my knuckles like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.
Before I can speak again, the door creaks open.
A nurse walks in she's young, nervous, clutching a clipboard like a shield. Her gaze flicks from me to Alexander, and she visibly straightens when she realizes who he is.
Even hospitals aren’t immune to his power.
"Miss Montgomery ," she says, cautiously cheerful, "we have your results."
She glances again at Alexander, swallowing hard. He stares her down like she’s seconds from giving him bad news, and he’s already imagining where to bury her body.
"Congratulations," she says quickly, voice rising an octave. "You're pregnant."
Silence. Just… silence.
The word hits me like a train to the chest.
Pregnant. No.
No, no, no.
I blink at her, my lips parting, but nothing comes out.
Pregnant? Pregnant.
The room spins again, and it’s not from fainting this time—it’s panic. Full-blown, bone-deep, soul-splitting panic.
I turn to Alexander, heart slamming against my ribs like it wants out. My mouth moves. I want to say something like; Are they sure? This can’t be real. I didn’t plan this. I’m not ready.
But I don’t get the words out. Because I’m too busy watching his expression.
For a terrifying second, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me.
And I brace for it. That cold, detached look.
The one he wears when he’s handling bad news or gutting enemies with his smile.
But then—
He breathes in. And smiles.
No he grins.
Like the devil himself just got handed heaven on a silver platter.
"My baby girl," he says, voice raw and dark and fucking reverent. He drops to his knees beside the bed and presses his forehead to my stomach like it’s holy ground.
"You’re giving me a fucking heir."
Tears burn behind my eyes.
No, no, no.
This isn’t how I planned anything. This is too fast. Too messy. Too real.
"I—I can’t," I whisper, the words barely forming. "I don’t know how to do this, Alexander. I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t know how to survive all this. The press. The gossip. The judgment. Me—I don’t even know if I’m enough—"
He cuts me off with a look so sharp, it slices straight through the panic.
"You don’t have to know," he growls, voice low and furious and full of something I can’t name but makes my heart ache. "You just have to fucking trust me."
"But—"
"No fucking buts, Ivy." His voice drops lower, dark and lethal. "You're mine. You’ve always been mine. And now you're carrying my baby."
He presses another kiss to my belly, it's slow, reverent, possessive.
My body trembles. I’m still terrified. Still untethered.
But… there’s a flicker.
Hope. That maybe, just maybe, I’m not in this alone.
Maybe I never was.
To Be Continued...