MY REJECTED TWINS AND MY BILLIONAIRE PROTECTOR

A Son Measured In Gold

CHAPTER 3

Yolanda

I turned my head. My daughter slept in the clear bassinet, one fist curled near her mouth. I reached through the plastic and touched her blanket.

“Stay put, Ariella,” I whispered. “Mommy’s coming back.”

She cooed softly.

Getting out of bed felt like tearing myself in half. The bandaged ankle was swollen tight against the wrap. Every step sent a sick pulse of pain up my leg and into my hip.

I dragged the foot behind me, one hand on the wall, breathing through my teeth. At the nurses’ station, I stopped and held onto the counter.

“Please,” I said to the woman there. “Watch my baby. Just for a little while. I have to find the money to save my son.”

She looked at my leg, at the fresh exhaustion on my face. “Ma’am, you just delivered twins. Your ankle is badly injured. You should be resting.”

Rest.

The word almost made me laugh. Barbara could rest. Women with money and husbands who chose them could rest. I could not.

“I’ll be back soon,” I told her.

The taxi ride to the Wellington Group building passed in a blur of fear. In the lobby, I told the receptionist I needed Mason Cole. They called up. Minutes later, the elevator opened, and he stepped out.

The moment he saw me, his face changed. Shame, then irritation, then something colder. He grabbed my wrist without a word and pulled.

Pain exploded up my leg. I stumbled after him, biting back a cry, as he dragged me into a side corridor away.

"Let go of me," I said.

He let go of me only when we were hidden from view. Then he started pacing.

“You should have stayed home. Why did you come here? What if the chairman sees you?” His voice stayed low but sharp. “Are you trying to sabotage everything I’ve worked for?”

“Mason—”

He kept talking over me, eyes on the wall, on the floor, anywhere but my face.

“Mason, look at me.” When he still didn’t, something inside me broke open. “Look at me!”

He finally did.

His gaze dropped to my stomach—flat now, empty, my dress hanging loose where the twins had been.

“What happened?” he asked. Then, slower, as the truth settled: “You had the twins? When? How?”

I met his eyes and spoke the only words that mattered.

“Mason… our son won’t make it unless he goes through surgery. Sixty thousand dollars.

Mason’s face changed. For a moment, something like pity flickered across it, soft and almost familiar. Then it hardened again.

“I can’t help you, Yolanda.”

The words landed flat.

“Where do you expect me to get that kind of money?” he asked, voice low. He kept glancing past my shoulder toward the glass doors of the lobby. “Sixty thousand? That’s not something I just… have.”

“It’s critical,” I said. My throat felt raw. “You’re their father. At least come see them. Please. Mother and child General hospital. That’s where we are. The doctor said Adrian’s heart is weak. If he doesn’t get the surgery today, he might not survive the night.”

Mason looked away.

I stepped closer, ignoring the sharp pulse in my ankle. “I’ll sign the divorce papers. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll leave. I’ll stay out of your life with Barbara. I won’t make trouble. I just need you to help me get the money to save our son. Please, Mason.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have it. It’s too much.”

“How much do you have right now?”

“Nothing. Not for this.” His eyes kept sliding toward the elevators. “You need to go. Barbara is on her way here. If she sees you—”

His phone rang. He answered without looking at me, turned his body slightly away, and started walking.

“Mason—”

I reached for him. My fingers brushed the back of his jacket and closed on empty air. He kept walking. The elevator doors opened, swallowed him, and closed again.

I stood there with my hand still half-raised.

After a long moment, I lowered it. Wiped my face with my hand. Turned around and left the building.

On the way back, I kept hearing his voice—"I can’t help you.”

A short, broken laugh left my throat. How stupid I had been. I always knew Mason was ambitious. I knew money and status pulled at him harder than almost anything. But abandoning his marriage, his pregnant wife, his children—I never saw that coming.

When I reached the hospital, the same nurse from the reception desk looked up as I limped past.

“Did you get the money?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head. Tears spilled over before I could stop them.

I went back to the room.

Ariella lay in the clear bassinet, awake and quiet. She was more beautiful than I had imagined—small perfect mouth, one fist near her cheek, the soft rise and fall of her chest. I touched her tiny finger. Immediately, her hand closed around mine, warm and strong, while her lips worked in a slow suckling motion.

I lifted her carefully into my arms and pressed my face against her. The tears came harder now, soaking into the thin blanket.

“We’re going to be okay,” I whispered into her hair. “Mommy’s going to find the money. I don’t know how yet, but I will. Your brother isn’t going to die. I believe that. I have to believe that.”

The door opened fast.

The same male doctor from earlier stepped in, breathing a little quicker than usual.

“There’s a way to save your baby,” he said.

My heart lurched so hard I felt it in my throat. I looked down at Ariella, a shaky smile breaking through the tears.

“What did I tell you?” I whispered. “He’s going to be okay.”

I laid her gently back in the bassinet and turned to the doctor, both hands gripping the edge of the bed for balance.

“What do you mean? Please—what way?”

“Someone has offered to pay for your son’s surgery in full.”

I stared at him. “Really? Who? Why would they—”

“It’s someone you will never know,” he said.

Then his expression shifted as if the next words were heavier than the ones before.

“They are willing to cover everything,” he continued carefully. “On one condition.”

The room went very quietly. Even Ariella’s soft breathing seemed to fade.

I swallowed. “What condition? I’ll do anything. If they need a housekeeper—someone to cook or clean—I can work. I can—”

“They want to adopt the baby.”