The Billionaire’s Virgin Bride

“You can do this, Martha. Just one more push and it’ll all be over,” the doctor said in a warm, reassuring voice.

Martha shook her head, her feet digging into the mattress. “I… I can’t. I don’t think I have any more strength,” she stammered between ragged breaths, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the sweat on her skin.

A young nurse held Martha’s legs open and leaned closer. “The baby’s head is already out, Martha. Just one more push and this will all be over.”

Martha let out a shaky breath, swallowing hard before exhaling loudly through her mouth.

“Arrrrrrrrghhhhh!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, forcing herself to push.

Her eyes widened so much it looked like they might pop out of their sockets.

And then, with one final effort, the baby’s body slid out of her and into the waiting hands of the nurses.

“Finally,” Martha murmured to herself, exhaling deeply as she shut her eyes.

“Finally,” she whispered again, hearing the newborn’s first cries echoing through the delivery room.

Martha’s chest rose and fell in heavy waves as the attending doctor approached her bedside.

“Congratulations, Martha, you’ve just given birth to a beautiful baby girl,” the doctor said warmly, her lips curved into a proud smile. “Would you like to hold her?”

Martha nodded slowly and opened her eyes, prompting the doctor to signal the nurse holding the newborn.

The nurse gently transferred the baby into the doctor’s arms, who then placed the infant carefully into Martha’s outstretched arms.

“She’s so beautiful,” Martha whispered with a soft smile but before anyone could respond, Martha smile faded.

Her eyes suddenly rolled back, turning completely white as her body began to convulse violently.

“Something’s wrong!” the doctor shouted, swiftly lifting the baby from Martha’s arms and handing her to a nurse.

“Get the crash cart, now!” she ordered as another nurse placed an oxygen mask over Martha’s face.

Martha’s heart monitor began to spike erratically, her pulse rate shooting into the 180s.

“She’s going into cardiac arrest!” the doctor barked, grabbing a penlight and checking Martha pupils, which were dilated and unresponsive.

A nurse placed the shock pads on Martha’s chest while the doctor got the machine ready.

“Charging to 200 joules… Clear!”

The shock jolted Martha’s body off the bed. A moment of silence followed, then the heart monitor beeped frantically again.

“Still no pulse,” the doctor muttered. “Another round. Charging to 300. Clear!”

The team repeated chest compressions and after several rounds of advanced cardiac life support…

The flatline tone pierced the room.

Despite every effort, Martha… was gone.

Nineteen years later

“Where… where the hell are you, Claudia?” a male voice barked in anger as he stormed into Claudia’s room.

His eyes darted around, his vision blurry. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but to his surprise, the room was empty.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he growled, spinning around and marching out of the room, heading straight to the kitchen.

There, Claudia stood with her back to him, quietly doing the dishes, headphones over her ears.

Fuming, Mr. Addison rushed to her side and yanked the headphones off her head.

“Are you deaf? Didn’t you… didn’t you hear me calling your name?” he snapped, seething with rage.

Startled, Claudia turned around quickly to meet her father’s bloodshot gaze.

He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were so red it was clear he was struggling to stay awake.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mr. Addison asked, his legs trembling slightly, though he forced himself to stay upright.