The Billionaire's Secret Child.

Chapter 23

Grace's POV
I honestly don't know if I can take this any longer. I've been holding myself together with tape and glue. Until now, it had worked. I was coping. My son has a life-threatening condition, I was in the hospital unable to see my daughter, and the absent father to my children returned. My life was far from ok but i was managing to hold it together.

But now?

I am seriously questioning the existence of the all mighty one that takes care of us all. It is difficult to have faith when everything being thrown at me is too much stress to handle. When Jackson came in and told me that Weaver and Luca had been in a collision my heart shattered and each little piece forced it's way out of my body like tiny shards of glass puncturing my skin. A heart wrenching sob escaped my lips before I immediately turned around to look at my son. He was still sleeping and I hadn't woken him. THANK GOD.

I sobbed quietly and walked into Jackson's chest. He wrapped his arms around me and said nothing. He just held me and let me cry. Jackson understood that "everything will be fine" 's and "Our prayers are with you" 's have no effect on a shattered heart. He simply murmured

'Come. Arloe will be looked after by the Nurses'

He walks me to the ICU. I am trying to prepare for seeing my daughter and the father of my children hooked up to every scary machine this hospital owns, to see them unconscious, no life in their eyes, to see the people I love most on the brink of death.

"NOOOOOOO..... I want my mamma.... HEY! STOP THAT....." the screams of a young girl echo through the halls of the previously silent ICU. The screams come from a voice that I instantly recognise.

Weaver.

She's awake.

I release Jacksons hand and run towards the room where the screams originated. Inside is a doctor, 3 nurses and a child neurologist. Weaver is worming around on the bed demanding that they allow her to go see Luca and me and Arloe.

I walk to the foot of the bed. My heart is racing and tears flow down my cheeks as overwhelming relief floods through my body. She has a small cut on her head that is drizzling blood but it doesn't appear severe.

'Weaver...' I whisper. She stops struggling and launches her little self towards me, I sit on the bed and cradle her to my chest rocking back and forth in blissful relief. Weaver shifts her position after a couple of minutes. She sits facing me with her legs on either side of my hips. She gently reaches up and wipes my tears from my cheeks.

'Mama, don't cry. I promise I am ok!! Can you please tell them to leave me alone and to go fix Matteo. He needs all the doctors.... I just needed you mama' she says thoughtfully.

The bright blue eyed little girl infront of me leaves me awestruck even at 5 years old her compassion and understanding of the importance of the people around her. Both for their feelings and their impact on others is phenomenal.

'Sweetie, I am crying because I am so relieved that you are ok, we just need to double check though because otherwise Jackson overthere wont let you see Arloe." I hated to have to bribe her but I knew that no matter what Weaver would do everything in the world to see her brother.

'That's right Weaver, now let Dr. Ivashkov look at you'

and with that, she allowed the neurologist to check her over.

Ohhhhhh the powers of blackmail. I laugh inwardly.

Once Dr. Ivashkov checked her over and thankfully gave her the all clear, me, jackson and Weaver walked hand in hand down the halls that led to Arloe's room. When we reach the main hall I decide to check on Matteo.

'Hey Weaver, if it's ok with Dr. Jackson he will take you back to see Arloe. I'll catch up with you in a couple minutes ok?'  It was a bit of a lie but I knew that once Weaver got to see Arloe she would quickly forget about me, instead she would give her brother all the attention she could.

I kneel down to her level and look up at Jackson, he nods a 'sure'. I kiss Weaver on the head and stand straight again. Jackson takes Weavers hand and they head down the corridor to the children's ICU.

I watch them walk away until they are completely out of sight before heading to the recovery area of the hospital following surgery.

I reach the front desk. A short African-American lady with beautifully long hair in perfectly uniformed braids and pretty features is sat at the desk organising paperwork. Her name badge says Rhonda.

'Erm, hi, I'm just wondering if Matteo De Luca has come out of surgery? He was in a car accident, his daughter was in the car with him?' I ask her.

'Ok, give me a second and I'll check the patients medical chart on the database. However, may I ask what relation you are to him?'

I know how hospitals work. If you are not a blood relative or married or next of kin you get no info. Simple as that. I wouldn't get information. So I did the next reasonable thing to get information.

I lied.

'He is my fiancé...'