The hospital room smelled of antiseptic.

Morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains as Sophia Laurent finally passed the critical stage. She lay quietly on the bed, an IV needle in the back of her hand, clear medication slowly dripping into her veins.

The side effects of the prenatal medicine made her heart race and her breathing shallow. She bit her lip, enduring the discomfort, not wanting Ethan Sullivan to notice anything amiss.

"Just a few more days," the doctor advised before leaving. "You can only be discharged once all your vitals stabilize."

Ethan stood by the bed, his gaze never leaving Sophia's pale face. Only after hearing the doctor's words did the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.

The baby was safe.

His Sophia was safe.

"I'd like some congee," Sophia murmured softly.

Ethan immediately called his assistant to have it delivered. When the porridge arrived, he tasted it first to ensure it was safe before scooping a spoonful, blowing on it gently, and bringing it to her lips.

"I can feed myself," Sophia said, reaching for the bowl.

Ethan moved it out of her reach. "Remember how you took care of me when I was injured?"

Sophia paused, recalling those days. Back then, Ethan had been temperamental, refusing anyone but her to feed him or help him bathe. If she returned even a little late, he would throw tantrums, leaving the hospital room in disarray.

Now, his eyes were tender, his movements careful, as if cradling something fragile and precious.

Once the bowl was empty, Ethan brought her warm water to rinse her mouth. Sophia noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "You should rest too."

"I'll watch you sleep," he said, squeezing her hand.

Under the influence of the medication, Sophia soon drifted off. Ethan gently brushed the stray hairs from her forehead, his fingertips lingering on her cheek. Only by feeling her warmth could his anxious heart settle slightly.

Suddenly, Sophia began to stir in her sleep. "The baby... my baby..."

Ethan immediately pulled her into his arms, his palm resting on her abdomen. "The baby is fine, don't be afraid." His voice, steady and reassuring, calmed her, and she gradually stilled.

This time, she hadn't called out for "Kyle" in her dreams.

The realization made Ethan's chest tighten. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, wishing he could merge her into his very bones.

At noon, Detective Kevin North's call shattered the quiet of the hospital room.

In the hallway, Ethan listened to the report, his expression turning icy. "Diana?" His voice was laced with venom. "The evidence is solid?"

"The cleaner confessed. It was Diana's driver who orchestrated it," Kevin said. "They swapped the herbal tea and destroyed the surveillance footage."

Ethan clenched his phone. "Wait for my instructions."

Back in the room, Sophia was still asleep. Her lashes fluttered like the wings of an injured butterfly. Ethan bent down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, his fingers smoothing the faint crease between her brows.

"I'll be back soon," he whispered. "Every single person who hurt you will pay."