The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Angela POV
I watched in horror as Christopher's eyes slowly closed. My heart pounded against my ribs, fear washing over me in cold waves.
This couldn't be happening. Not here, not today.
"Christopher!" I called his name, my voice breaking. “Christopher, stay with me!"
His eyelids fluttered, then opened again, though barely. Those amber eyes-so similar to my own-struggled to focus on my face.
His lips, stained with blood, curved into the faintest smile.
"I'm sorry, Angela," he whispered, each word costing him visible effort. "I messed up again."
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, running down his chin and neck. The sight of it made my stomach
clench.
"Don't talk," I urged, pressing harder on his wound. "Save your strength. The ambulance will be here any minute."

But Christopher seemed determined to speak, as if compelled by some urgent need. His hand found mine, his fingers
surprisingly strong as they closed around my wrist.
"There are things I need to say," he insisted. "Things that might not get another chance." He paused, grimacing in pain. I couldn't
see you before because I didn't know how to face you. I never should have forced you to stay with me. I failed you. I failed Aria
and Ethan. My last wish... is for you and Sean to forgive me."
Sean's face darkened beside me, his jaw tightening. "You bastard," he growled. "I'm not accepting your apology. Since you know
you were wrong, you need to get better. You need to make amends for what you did." His voice grew louder, more intense. "You
stabbed me twice, for God's sake. You need to recover so I can beat the hell out of you properly."
Tears streamed down my face, hot against my skin. "And when you're better," I added, "I want a formal apology to me and the
children. Until then, I will never forgive you. Never."
Christopher's lips twitched, almost like he wanted to laugh. "I don't think I'll recover from this one," he said quietly. "I heard you
got your memory back... that's good. I have no regrets left. If you can't forgive me, I understand. I don't deserve forgiveness
anyway."

"When did you become so weak?" Sean taunted, though I could hear the strain beneath his mockery. "Your men stabbed me
twice and I survived. You get stabbed once by a crazy woman and you're giving up?"
Christopher tried to respond, but instead coughed violently, more blood spilling from his mouth. His grip on my wrist weakened,
and his eyes-those eyes that had watched over my children for years-slowly closed again.
Panic surged through me. "Christopher? Christopher!"
Sean's fingers pressed.against Christopher's neck, checking for a pulse. "He's still alive," he said, but the tension in his voice
betrayed his concern.
Just then, paramedics burst through the doors, equipment in hand. They moved swiftly, assessing Christopher's condition with
practiced efficiency. Moments later, they were loading him onto a stretcher, attaching monitors and inserting IVs.
Sean and I followed them out, still in our wedding attire, neither of us sparing a thought for the blood-stained finery, The
paramedics worked as they moved, speaking in rapid medical shorthand that meant nothing to me. All I could focus on was
Christopher's pale face, the oxygen mask now covering his mouth, the blood still seeping through the temporary bandages.
We climbed into the ambulance without hesitation. Nobody tried to stop us. As the siren wailed and we sped through the streets,
I held Christopher's hand, willing strength into him. Every bump in the road made me wince, imagining how it must jar his wound.
1/2
The hospital hallway was sterile and cold, the harsh fluorescent lights casting everything in an unforgiving glow.
Sean and I had been waiting outside the emergency room for what felt like an eternity.