I always hated hospitals; all my problems began here. From the day I was born as my dad’s illegitimate daughter to the day my mother dragged me to the hospital when my half-brother was born. Like I said—or strongly hinted at—nothing good happened at hospitals when it came to me.
The continuous beeping coming from something next to me pulled me out of my dream state and back into reality. I blinked a few times, trying to see clearly through the blurry figures hovering above me.
“Sweetheart…” Ashton’s voice sounded as my vision cleared, and I forced a small smile as I scanned the people standing in front of my bed.
There was Ashton, Drake, a man in a lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck—probably a doctor—and a woman in a nurse’s outfit. Obviously a nurse.
“W-Where am I?” I stutter
