PREGNANT FOR MY BOSS'S BROTHER

Chapter 12: Doctor’s Warning*

The ultrasound room was freezing. Not from AC. From fear.

Ada lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling while Dr. Mensah moved the wand over her stomach. Gel was cold. The monitor was bright. Daniel stood on her right, arms crossed, face blank. David stood on her left, hands in pockets, jaw tight.

Neither brother spoke to the other. The air between them was sharp enough to cut.

“Everything looks good so far,” Dr. Mensah said, smiling at the screen. “Baby A is active. Strong heartbeat. 142 bpm. Perfect size for 20 weeks.”

Ada exhaled. One down.

But the doctor’s smile faded as she moved the wand lower. Her brow furrowed. She pressed harder. Moved the wand again. Then again.

The silence stretched. Too long.

Daniel noticed first. “What is it?”

Dr. Mensah cleared her throat. Professional mask back on. “Baby B’s heartbeat is… lower. 108 bpm. And the amniotic fluid around Baby B is less than we’d like. It’s called oligohydramnios. Not dangerous yet, but we need to monitor closely.”

Ada’s blood went cold. “Lower? What does that mean? Is my baby okay?”

“It means Baby B is under stress,” Dr. Mensah said gently. “Could be the cord position. Could be placental issues. Twins pregnancies are high risk, Miss Okafor. We’ll need weekly scans now. Bed rest. No stress. Absolutely no stress.”

`No stress.` Ada almost laughed. She was living in a mansion with two billionaire brothers who wanted to own her and her children. How was that “no stress”?

Daniel stepped forward. “What do we do? Medication? Surgery? Name the treatment. Money isn’t an issue.”

“Bed rest and monitoring for now, Mr. Okafor,” Dr. Mensah said. “If fluid levels drop more, we may need to discuss early delivery or selective reduction. But let’s not panic yet. 60% of cases stabilize with rest.”

`Selective reduction.` The words hit Ada like a punch. Choosing which baby lives. She pressed both hands to her stomach like she could protect them with her palms.

“No,” she whispered. “No reduction. Both of them. I carry both or none.”

David moved closer, finally looking at her instead of Daniel. “Hey. Breathe. Dr. Mensah said 60% stabilize. That’s more than half. Baby B will be fine, okay? You’re strong. They’re strong.”

His voice was soft. The same soft voice from the hotel night. The voice that said “Are you sure?” before touching her.

Daniel heard it too. His eyes narrowed. “David. This is not your concern.”

“Isn’t it?” David met his brother’s glare. “She’s carrying twins. My niece or nephew is at risk. That makes it my concern.”

“Your concern is staying out of my family,” Daniel said, voice dropping to that dangerous low register. “I’m the father. I make medical decisions.”

“You’re the father on paper,” David shot back. “Until we do another DNA test. Until we know—”

“Enough!” Ada sat up fast, tears burning. The movement made her dizzy. Both brothers reached for her but she slapped their hands away. “Both of you, stop! This isn’t about you! This is about my babies!”

The room went silent. Dr. Mensah looked like she wanted to disappear.

Ada took deep breaths. In. Out. For Baby B. “Doctor, what do I need to do? Tell me exactly. No sugarcoating.”

Dr. Mensah softened. “Complete bed rest starting today. No work. No stairs. No travel. Hydrate 3 liters daily. I’ll admit you for 48 hours observation, then you go home with a portable monitor. And Miss Okafor… no emotional stress. Twins can feel your cortisol. If you’re panicking, Baby B panics too.”

Ada nodded, hand trembling on her stomach. “Okay. Bed rest. I can do that.”

Daniel was already on his phone. “I’m clearing the east wing. Hospital bed installed in her room by tonight. 3 nurses, 24/7 rotation. Private chef for high-protein meals. Cancel all my meetings this week.”

David frowned. “You’re confining her?”

“I’m protecting her,” Daniel said without looking up. “And the babies. Unlike some people who can’t even remember which hotel room they were in 5 months ago.”

That was a low blow. David’s fists clenched. “At least I don’t treat women like assets to be locked in a wing.”

“At least I don’t run away and leave them with hospital bills,” Daniel countered.

“Both of you, STOP!” Ada shouted. Then immediately regretted it as pain shot through her lower stomach.

Everyone froze.

Dr. Mensah was at her side in 2 seconds. “Breathe, Miss Okafor. Deep breaths. You’re okay. Baby B felt that spike. We can’t have shouting matches. Not anymore.”

Ada nodded, tears falling now. Not from pain. From helplessness. “Please. No fighting. Not in front of them. They can hear you.”

Daniel and David looked at each other over her hospital bed. 32 years of rivalry. 20 years of competition. All of it paused for 5 seconds because of her words.

“Fine,” Daniel said finally. He turned to Dr. Mensah. “What room is she in? I want it upgraded. Private floor if possible.”

“Daniel,” David said quietly. “Let me stay tonight. Just in case she needs—”

“No,” Daniel cut him off. “You have your own wing. Use it. Ada stays with my medical team. My security. My rules.”

Ada closed her eyes. The twins kicked. One strong. One weak.

Inside her head, she was screaming: `I don’t belong to either of you. I’m their mother. Let me make the choices.`

But out loud, she said nothing. Because Daniel paid the hospital. Daniel paid her mother’s bills. Daniel had the power.

As nurses wheeled her bed to the private room, David caught her hand for 1 second. “I’m sorry, Ada. For everything. For that night. For now. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

Daniel saw it. His jaw ticked. But he said nothing. Not in front of doctors.

In the private room, Ada stared at the ceiling again. IV in her arm. Monitor beeping for Baby B. Daniel’s security guard posted outside her door.

She placed both hands on her stomach. “I’m so sorry, my loves,” she whispered to them. “Mummy will keep you safe. From your fathers. From this war. From everything.”

Baby A kicked back, strong. Baby B fluttered weakly.

And down the hall, Daniel and David stood on opposite sides of the corridor, not speaking, both thinking the same thing:

`I won’t lose her. I won’t lose them. Even if it means destroying my brother.`