Chapter 68: Heirs

Chapter 68: Heirs
Haden

I jumped out of the car before it had even come to a full stop, barely registering the sound of tires skidding against the pavement as I sprinted toward the hospital entrance. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat louder than the last. I didn’t wait, I slammed the elevator button with the edge of my palm, over and over, as if that would make the doors open faster.

The moment the elevator finally dinged, I was inside, Luca, Enzo, and Micah right behind me. We were all silent, the air thick with tension. Six floors felt like six hundred.

As soon as the doors parted on the sixth floor, I shot out like a bullet, already knowing where to go. Room 614. My feet hit the tile floor like thunder. I didn’t knock. I couldn’t. I flung the door open just in time to hear Ella let out a sharp scream, her body curling slightly as pain overtook her. Morgan was at her side, gently rubbing her back, murmuring calm words.

The scene rooted me in place.

Joella. My Joella. Bent in pain. Her forehead glistening with sweat, her hands clenched in white-knuckled fists.

My throat closed.

A hand touched my shoulder, Stella.

“She’s having contractions,” she said softly, anchoring me with her voice. “She’s been asking for you.”

That snapped me out of it.

I moved across the room in three long strides, coming to her side. Her head turned toward me, and even through the pain, I caught the sharp glint in her eye.

“You’re late,” she scolded through clenched teeth, voice hoarse but full of fire.

“I know, Tesoro. I’m sorry,” I murmured, grabbing her hand and pressing my lips to her damp knuckles.

She tried to snatch it back on reflex, but didn’t get far before a new wave of pain crashed through her. She gripped my hand like a vice, and I let her. Let her take whatever she needed from me.

Morgan and her mom moved with practiced ease, coaching her through the storm. I stood there, helpless and in awe, watching the woman I loved fight to bring life into the world.

“You’re doing great, Joella,” The doctor encouraged, her voice firm and soothing. “Just keep breathing. Push when I tell you to, okay?”

Ella nodded, teeth clenched, jaw tight. She looked up at me again, so tired, but so damn strong. The pain didn’t scare her. It didn’t stop her. If anything, it seemed to fuel that stubborn, radiant fire I’d fallen in love with.

I wiped the sweat from her brow with the edge of my sleeve, murmuring low words of reassurance even as she crushed the life out of my fingers. I barely noticed. I didn’t care.

She was everything in that moment.

“Alright, Joella,” the doctor said firmly. “PUSH!”



Cries filled the room, sharp and beautiful, the kind that split a man open from the inside out. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face as I leaned down and kissed the top of Ella’s damp forehead. Her skin was warm, her curls matted with sweat, but she was still the most breathtaking thing I had ever seen.

I was in awe.

She had done it. She brought our boys into the world, naturally, fiercely, when the epidural didn’t make it in time. They were ready, and she had no choice but to be ready too. And she was.

I was just thankful I made it in time. Thankful I didn’t miss the moment our world doubled in size.

The nurse returned a few minutes later, both babies bundled tight in soft white blankets. Their skin still carried the pink flush of new life, their tiny features delicate and perfect.

Everyone in the room quieted as she placed one baby in each of our arms. All the noise seemed to fade except the soft sighs and coos echoing around us.

Our sons yawned at the exact same time, and it sent a ripple of warmth through the room. Ella let out a soft laugh and looked down at the one in her arms.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse but filled with reverence.

Their dark hair lay flat against their little heads, wispy and damp. They moved instinctively toward each other, their arms stretching out as if seeking the other’s presence, like they already knew the world made more sense together.

“I want to see their eyes,” I said quietly, though I couldn’t look away from their faces. “I want to see what pieces of us made it through.”

As if in response, the one cradled in Ella’s arms blinked his eyes open slowly, still adjusting to the light. Ella gasped, a smile breaking across her face as she looked at me.

“A perfect mix,” she said softly.

I leaned closer, holding the other twin a little higher. “Come on, little man,” I coaxed, brushing my thumb over his cheek. “Let’s see if your eyes match your brother’s.”

Right on cue, he blinked up at me. It was slow, unsure, but then those familiar hazel eyes stared up at me.

I turned him gently so Ella could see.

“They have the same eyes,” she said, her voice gleaming with joy. “A perfect blend of yours and mine.”

I nodded, heart full. Hazel, green tangled with golden brown. Soft like hers. Sharp like mine. Their eyes were alive with light and innocence. And I knew already they’d change everything.

“They’re going to be little heartbreakers,” Morgan said from the corner with a knowing smirk.

“Yup. Worse than Haden,” Ashley added with a grin.

“Hey!” I said, feigning offense. “I wasn’t that bad.”

The room erupted in quiet laughter, but everyone just looked at me with that same smirk. The kind that said yes, you were and we love you anyway.

Even Ella gave me the look. She didn’t even have to say anything, just raised a brow with a tired smile curling at her lips.

She extended her arms and motioned for me to hand over our other son. I passed him to her carefully, supporting his head as she shifted to hold both boys against her chest. Their tiny faces turned toward her instantly, their little eyes wide and alert as they stared at her like she was the sun itself.

Maybe she was.

The feeling that bloomed in my chest was impossible to explain. There was no word for it. Love was too small a thing for what I felt in that moment.

Ella let out a soft yawn, and I was already reaching for the babies. “I got them,” I whispered.

She didn’t fight it. Just leaned her head back with a tired sigh as I gently gathered the twins and placed them in the clear crib beside her bed. They curled toward one another instantly, their little limbs tangling like they had no idea the world existed without the other.

“They’ll do that for a while,” the nurse said softly, walking over to check on Ella. “They’re used to being together.”

I watched them wrap around each other, still connected in a way that nothing would ever truly unravel. My sons.

“You, mama,” the nurse said as she gently took Ella’s vitals, “need to get some rest now, okay?”

Ella only nodded, her eyes already closing. Her body was still recovering, but her soul… her soul had never looked more peaceful.

I glanced around and saw Stella press a kiss to Ella’s forehead before giving my shoulder a gentle pat. She said nothing, she didn’t have to. Her eyes said it all before she turned and left with Dad, who gave me a proud nod that made my chest tighten.

Morgan leaned down and whispered she’d see us later before slipping out with Ashley in tow.

Silence followed.

I turned back to find Ella already asleep, her head tilted gently to the side, her curls falling over one eye. I walked over, kissed her cheek, and whispered a thank you she’d probably never hear.

Then I sat down on the small sofa tucked in the corner of the room.

And I watched them.

My soon to be wife.

My sons.

My entire world.

Sleeping in perfect, peaceful stillness.

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Joella

I woke with a soft gasp, heart jumping before I could place where I was. A faint rustle had pulled me from sleep. My eyes darted to the corner of the room and I relaxed instantly when I saw Haden settling into the recliner, his large frame folding into the worn leather like he’d been keeping watch.

The room was dim, hushed, the only light coming from the small wall sconce above the crib. I turned my head slightly and smiled at the sight of our boys sleeping peacefully, their chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

My gaze shifted back to Haden, who was watching me with quiet intensity.

“What is it, my love?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked, my throat dry and voice barely above a whisper.

“About an hour,” he replied with a slow yawn, rubbing at the corner of his eye.

“Oh. I thought I missed their feeding,” I said, already trying to push myself up, but my body ached and settled heavily against the pillows.

“You didn’t,” he said, leaning forward. “We still have some from your last pump. I was going to let you sleep.”

I shook my head. “No. I want to feed them. It builds our bond.”

Haden’s mouth curved softly, his expression warming. “Understood, Tesoro.”

Before he could say more, a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

“I was hoping you would be awake.”

My head turned quickly toward the doorway, where Grandpa Russo stood like a carved statue, tailored coat hanging open, his shoulders squared as if he belonged to another century.

The air changed the moment he entered. Not colder. Heavier. Denser. Haden sat up straighter. The subtle tension in his frame didn’t go unnoticed. Grandpa Russo’s eyes immediately sought out the crib, lighting up as he caught sight of the twins. A bright smile cracked across his face, and despite the heavy atmosphere, it was hard not to smile back. It was uncanny, how much his smile mirrored Haden’s. That same magnetic pull, sharp and commanding, yet disarming when aimed your way.

He stepped closer and dropped a large bag next to my bed without explanation. His gaze lingered on Haden for a moment. Long enough to acknowledge something unspoken, before he turned fully to me.

“You two did well,” he said, his voice laced with pride. “Strong, healthy boys. Heirs.”

“Do you need something, Grandpa?” Haden’s tone was cool. Clipped. No softness in it.

I blinked, taken slightly aback by the sudden bite. There was no warmth in his words, not even the polite coldness Haden reserved for his enemies.

Something had shifted between them.

Grandpa Russo didn’t react. He kept his posture relaxed, his smile unwavering as he turned his sharp gaze back to his grandson. “No,” he replied. “I just wanted to see my great-grandsons.”

Another silent beat stretched between them.

Haden gave a reluctant nod, and the room sank into that awkward quiet only family secrets could create.

Grandpa Russo stepped up to the crib and bent down, studying the twins with something I couldn’t quite read. Not tenderness, though it mimicked it. Maybe legacy. Maybe ambition.

He straightened and turned to me.

“May I?”

I nodded, and a small, genuine smile curved his lips as he reached down and gently lifted one of the babies from the crib.

“What is this one’s name?” he asked, cradling the infant with unexpected ease.

“Jaxson,” Haden answered as he rose and moved to stand beside him, never taking his eyes off the older man.

“And this one?” Grandpa Russo asked as he carefully handed Jaxson into my arms and reached for the second baby, still sleeping soundly.

“Jasion,” I replied.

He nodded slowly. “Jax and Jace,” he repeated with a small chuckle. “I like it. They’re going to be quite the duo.”

I smiled faintly and shifted my hold on Jaxson, my gaze flicking to Haden again. The weight he carried hadn’t lifted. His expression was calm, but the storm was there, resting just behind his eyes.

He looked at me. I raised a brow in silent question. What’s going on?

He shook his head subtly, just once.

“Ella needs to sleep,” Haden said, the words firm. Final.

A flash of something passed across Grandpa Russo’s face, annoyance, maybe, or disappointment. But it vanished as quickly as it came.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I’ll be heading out.”

He leaned down and placed Jasion in my arms. As he did, the nurse entered, her gentle presence softening the tension that still clung to the air.

“I came to see if you needed help nursing them?” she asked kindly, smiling as she made her way over.

I gave a small nod, adjusting the boys in my arms as she came to assist.

Behind her, Grandpa Russo looked at Haden.

“Haden, I need to speak with you.”

I looked up at Haden as he nodded curtly. He bent down, pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and whispered, “I’ll be right back, baby.”

I watched silently as the two of them walked out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind them. The room was quiet again, but that lingering tension? It hadn’t left. It just followed them out.

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Anonymous POV

The door opened slowly, a soft whisper against the frame. Inside, the room was dim and hushed, cloaked in the kind of silence reserved for new life and sacred beginnings.

Joella lay curled beneath a blanket, her body tucked delicately on her side, hair fanned across the pillow like a halo spun from midnight. She looked like something out of a dream, untouchable, divine. A sleeping angel.

Next to her, nestled in the clear hospital crib, were the twin boys. Tiny, perfect, and fast asleep. One had his hand resting against the other’s cheek. They were still wrapped in that womb-born rhythm, breathing in sync, their faces soft with peace.

The room was full of life and love, flowers lined every surface, cards stacked with congratulatory messages, luxury gift bags from people eager to please. I stepped inside, quiet as breath, and placed the bouquet I brought on the side table next to her bed.

She didn’t stir.

Up close, her beauty was almost too much to take. Even in sleep, her features were defined with delicate precision, cheekbones sculpted like fine art, lips parted just enough to hint at a sigh, and those lashes, thick and dark, brushing against flushed cheeks.

She was perfect.

Flawless in every sense.

I had to fight the overwhelming need to reach out. To touch her. Just to feel warmth from the woman I’d watched from afar for so long. But I didn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t risk waking her.

I’d waited all day for this moment. Waited for the perfect opportunity to slip past the guards stationed on the private floor. Haden had stepped away, pulled into an emergency call about the club, his empire always demanding, always pulling his attention.

That was my opening.

Dressed in hospital scrubs and masked like any other nurse or tech, I passed through security without question. They barely looked at me. They never do when you blend in. That’s the thing about power, it breeds arrogance. Haden thought his world was airtight.

But nothing is ever airtight.

And Joella… Joella was the softest part of him. The most vulnerable.

She stirred slightly, the sheets rustling beneath her, and I took a silent step back, every nerve on edge. If she woke up, if she screamed...I wouldn’t make it out alive. Not with Haden’s men crawling over this place like ants to sugar. The only reason I was still breathing was because I stayed ahead of him. Every time he got close, I disappeared.

He’d been hunting me for months.

But I was always a shadow.

Right now, I was a shadow standing over everything he loved.

I looked down at the boys. Our boys, in another life. My fingertips skimmed lightly across their downy heads, gentle as a breath. They shifted slightly, soft yawns slipping from their tiny mouths, but they didn’t wake.

“They should’ve been mine,” I whispered, the words slipping from my lips like a confession.

They were the next generation. Two perfect heirs, born of fire and legacy. Born of her.

If I wanted to, I could end it here. I could dismantle Haden's future with the flick of my wrist. Take everything from him.

But I wouldn’t.

Not tonight.

This wasn’t about death.

This was about control.

About reminding Haden that no matter how high he built his fortress, I could always get inside. That I could always touch what he loved. That his throne, his family, his heart, none of it was safe.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small black velvet bag, dropping it gently on the floor near the bed. Inside was a single gold cufflink engraved with a snake, coiled, fanged, waiting. A symbol he would recognize instantly. A message.

I turned and walked out with calculated calm, pulling the door shut behind me with a soft click.

The hallway was empty for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

As I rounded the corner, I spotted Joella’s bodyguard headed toward the room. His gaze swept over the hall and locked on me.

I didn’t flinch.

Instead, I lowered my head slightly, turned left, and walked briskly down the corridor. Not hurried enough to draw suspicion. Not slow enough to be questioned.

I could feel the weight of his stare follow me.

My hand brushed the stairwell door, pushing it open with my hip. The second it shut behind me, I started down the steps two at a time.

The clock had started ticking.

Soon the hospital would be locked down, and chaos would ripple through Haden’s perfect little kingdom. He’d rage. He’d roar. He’d tear through every hallway hunting for a ghost.

That’s exactly what I wanted.

Let him realize just how close I got.

Let him suffer in the knowledge…

That I was here and I could be again.