One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 118: Chapter 118

The sirens were too loud.
Too real.
Too fast—and still, not fast enough.
Damien’s hands were stained crimson, his shirt clinging to Arielle’s blood like a second skin as he cradled her on the stretcher. Her skin was pale. Too pale.
“Her blood pressure’s dropping!” one medic shouted.
Damien’s voice cracked as he clung to her hand. “Please, please, don’t close your eyes.”
Arielle’s lips trembled. Her eyes fluttered open—then closed again.
Inside the ambulance, everything blurred into chaos: oxygen masks, shouting, the squeal of tires over pavement. Damien knelt on the floor beside her, whispering prayers he hadn’t said since childhood.
Outside, the children were in another car—silent.
Not a single sound from Iris.
Not a single complaint from Jonah.
Elijah sat still, his jaw tight, holding Lily who clutched the camera that had taken their last photo.
At the hospital entrance, chaos bloomed.
Doctors swarmed.
Arielle vanished behind sliding glass doors.
And Damien stood frozen, arms soaked, fingers twitching, mouth unable to form words. His knees buckled against the weight of it.
“She was fine,” he kept saying. “She was just laughing.”
A nurse tried to guide him toward a sink. He resisted at first—then looked down at his hands.
His wife's blood.
His child’s blood.
His own failures.
He scrubbed until the skin went raw.
The waiting room was too quiet.
Jonah paced. Iris rocked herself in a chair. Lily had fallen asleep in Elijah’s lap, one fist tangled in his shirt, the other still holding the photo camera.
“I should’ve seen something,” Elijah muttered. “I live in the same house—how did I not know?”
“You couldn’t have,” Jonah whispered. “None of us could.”
“No,” Iris said softly, staring blankly at the floor. “Mom knew. She just didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to worry us.”
And somehow, that hurt worse.
Hours blurred.
A nurse appeared—only to say nothing.
Another hour passed.
Damien hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t moved.
He just sat.
Still.
Gripping the wedding ring Arielle had slipped off and placed in his palm before they wheeled her away.
The doctor finally came.
Everyone stood.
“I can’t promise anything,” she began. “She lost a lot of blood. We’re stabilizing her now. The baby’s heart rate is faint but present. It’s going to be minute by minute.”
“Can I see her?” Damien choked.
“Not yet.”
“Can I hold her hand?”
The doctor’s face softened. “If she wakes.”
The hallway filled with prayers.
Damien knelt in a corner, eyes shut, fingers pressed against his forehead. Elijah stood outside the ICU doors, unmoving, watching the red light above flicker. Jonah and Iris held hands across their laps, silent. Lily slept.
And inside the room...
Machines hummed.
Arielle lay between life and something colder.
But in her dreams—she was not alone.
A tiny hand gripped hers.
And in that lightless place, a heartbeat pulsed.
A promise waiting to be kept.