Too Late For Regret: My Possessive Billionaire

Ciara opened her eyes. The heavy weight of sleep clung to her mind. Bright sunlight sliced through the blinds, casting sharp lines across the white sheets of the VIP hospital room.

She drew in a sharp breath and tried to lift her right arm. A thick layer of gauze wrapped her forearm, pulling tight against her skin.

Panic hit her like a physical blow. She threw her uninjured left hand over her lower abdomen, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

A blonde nurse stepped quickly to the side of the bed. She placed a warm hand on Ciara's shoulder, pressing her gently back against the pillows.

"Please do not move, Mrs. Astor," the nurse said, her voice steady and soothing. "Your arm has severe abrasions, but the ultrasound is clear. Your baby is perfectly safe."

The rigid tension in Ciara's muscles snapped. She melted into the mattress. Hot tears spilled over her eyelashes, soaking into the collar of her hospital gown.

The heavy wooden door pushed open. Dr. Evelyn Hayes walked in, holding a metal clipboard. Her face was set in stern lines.

Dr. Hayes checked the reaction of Ciara's pupils with a penlight. She examined the edges of the gauze on her arm. She nodded in approval at Ciara's resilience, but the deep crease between her eyebrows remained.

Before the doctor could speak, the door swung open again. A rush of cold corridor air swept into the warm room.

Alexzander strode in. Dark shadows sat beneath his deep-set eyes. His jaw was clenched, and a rare look of frantic disarray marked his features.

He closed the distance to the bed in three long strides. He looked down at Ciara's pale, bloodless face and the thick bandages covering her arm. His pupils contracted sharply. A visible swallow worked its way down his throat.

He reached out his large, long-fingered hand. He aimed to cup her cheek.

"Ciara," he said, his voice rough and broken.

As he leaned in, the scent hit her. It was a custom floral perfume. The exact scent Elliana always wore. It clung stubbornly to the shoulder of his suit jacket, the exact spot where Elliana had rested her head.

The image of him holding Elliana in the ER corridor exploded in Ciara's mind. Her stomach lurched violently. Acid burned the back of her throat.

Just as his fingertips brushed the fine hairs on her cheek, Ciara jerked her head away. She threw her entire upper body to the opposite side of the pillow.

Alexzander's hand froze in mid-air. The air in the room turned to solid ice. He stared at his empty hand, a flash of pure shock crossing his face.

Ciara stared back at him. Her eyes were completely devoid of the warmth and reliance she usually held for him. Only cold, hard defense remained.

Dr. Hayes slammed her clipboard shut. The sharp clack echoed in the quiet room. She turned to face Alexzander, her posture rigid.

"Mr. Astor," Dr. Hayes said, her tone biting. "Your wife is pregnant. She was struck by a cart and brought in bleeding. Where exactly were you?"

Alexzander's face darkened instantly. The muscles in his neck corded. He was a man who commanded Wall Street. He dictated terms to billionaires. He was never spoken to like a negligent child.

He opened his mouth, the instinct to dominate rising. Then his eyes flicked back to the gauze on Ciara's arm. He snapped his mouth shut. He swallowed the anger, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"The patient requires absolute rest and zero emotional distress," Dr. Hayes warned him. She shot him one last disapproving glare and marched out of the room.

The door clicked shut. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound left.

Alexzander took a slow, deep breath. He lowered his hand and shoved it into his trouser pocket.

"I had an emergency to handle," he said, keeping his voice low.

Ciara let out a dry, humorless laugh. Her throat scratched with the effort. "An emergency? Was it more important than your wife and your child lying in a pool of blood?"

Alexzander frowned. He hated emotional dead ends. He operated on solutions, capital, and efficiency.

He took a step closer to the bed. "I will arrange the best round-the-clock nursing staff. I will have a top nutritionist flown in today."

Ciara closed her eyes. The sheer exhaustion of looking at him weighed down her eyelids.

"Get out," she said. Her voice was flat, carrying no anger, only absolute dismissal. "I do not want to look at you."

Alexzander stood rooted to the spot. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. He stared at her closed eyes for a long moment. Finally, he turned around. His heavy footsteps crossed the floor, leaving her alone in the sterile room.