THE CONTRACT WIFE: A ONE NIGHT STAND BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

CHAPTER 70 – Zara’s POV

When Nick dropped that bombshell, it felt like the world turned icy. In an instant, a chill ran through my body, leaving me speechless and teary-eyed. The weight of his words pressed down on me, making it difficult to face him any longer. I feared that my emotions would betray me, causing me to say something I’d regret later.

Leaving the precinct, I could feel my strength draining away. My knees wobbled, threatening to give out beneath me. I felt utterly weak, vulnerable in the face of such overwhelming news.

The news of my daughter’s survival brought a mix of joy and guilt as a mother. I couldn’t shake the feeling of remorse knowing that while I slept soundly in a comfortable bed and had three meals a day, my child was living in an orphanage, possibly feeling unloved and abandoned.

“Let’s go to Lucas, our child! Please!” I pleaded, my heart constricting, making it hard to catch my breath.

“Honey, please, try to calm down. We’ll be reunited with our son soon, won’t we? Please, you can’t be weak right now. He needs us, and we’ll make up for the time lost,” my husband reassured me, reminding me that now wasn’t the time to falter. I needed to find strength.

I held on to the fact that so much was at stake, not just my son Enrique’s well-being but also our quest for redemption. I reminded myself that I wasn’t alone in this battle. My husband, our friends, and our families were by our side.

I couldn’t isolate myself, believing that this was solely my burden to bear. We would fight together, as a united front. I had a partner, and I knew deep down that we would overcome this trial.

I embraced Lucas, expressing my gratitude for his unwavering presence. “Thank you, my love, for being here with me. Let’s not give up on our child, okay?” I whispered, my voice filled with both vulnerability and determination.

“What are you talking about? Who said anything about giving up? You are my family, and I am your husband and the father of our child. I will never abandon you. Have faith in me,” he declared.

I realized then that I wasn’t alone in this fight.

Rather than rushing home, we decided to take a moment to collect ourselves. I needed a breather. Exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. It was as if every fiber of my being was drained. I had to process the enormity of the situation, for my mind was a thorny maze.

The day after next, we set out. My husband had contacted the orphanage, and the news that our child was there brought a sense of relief, as if a thorn had been extracted from my chest.

Yet, a wave of weakness washed over me when I discovered that my son was born blind. Perhaps it was a consequence of the accident I had during my pregnancy, a guilt that gnawed at my conscience.

That night, tears flowed endlessly. I cried until my eyes felt heavy and my breathing became strained. The thought of St. Lucas Orphanage, my son’s limited vision, and my own struggles consumed me.

Growing up without a father, I understood the pain of feeling alone, of something missing in one’s life. I had vowed that if I ever had a child, especially a daughter, I would provide her with a complete family-a mother, a father, and an older brother.

The idea of my daughter growing up in an orphanage was unbearable. I couldn’t bear the thought of her believing she was unloved, unable to see us or the world because of my own actions.

In these moments, my conscience weighed heavily upon me, causing an overwhelming amount of guilt and self-doubt.

Instead of finding fault in everyone, I resolved to focus on tomorrow. It wasn’t too late; a new day would dawn, and I would be reunited with daughter, Ava. I made a promise to myself that we would create a loving family, compensating for all the lost years.

Thursday arrived, and we embarked on a long van journey, accompanied by my husband, Enrique, and a driver. The orphanage was located far away, in the countryside, and the estimated five-hour trip felt like an eternity-the longest I had ever experienced.

There was a mutual longing among us all, a yearning that transcended words. As we held hands in the van, I asked my husband, “What’s the first thing you’ll do when you see our daughter, dear?”

He smiled and replied, “I might not be able to do it right away. But I imagine our daughter, as beautiful as her mother and as courageous as her father. I will embrace her and make her feel our presence-yours, mine, and Enrique’s.” Even Enrique beamed with joy, excited at the thought of having a little sister.

“Do you remember how my pregnancy was meant to be a surprise at our wedding? The gender reveal was supposed to be through the wedding cake. Life had different plans,” I shared, my voice wavering.

He reached for my hand, his touch providing solace. I gradually calmed down, although my excitement remained palpable.

After a long and tiring journey, we finally arrived at a quaint town in the countryside, right next to the orphanage. The nuns, including the superior, were waiting for us, ready to meet and guide us through the process.

“Good day to you… I understand your eagerness to meet the child, but I would like to invite you to my office first. The children are still having their meals,” Sister Melissa greeted us warmly.

Both Lucas and I agreed, and as our son happily played with the other children, our driver kept a watchful eye on them.

We walked through the orphanage, passing numerous rooms with simple wooden doors, until we reached Sister Melissa’s office. It was a serene space, painted in pristine white.

“Please, have a seat while I fetch them,” Sister Melissa offered kindly, leaving us to wait with anticipation.

Moments later, she returned with a collection of stories and a beautifully bound book.

As we opened the book, we were greeted with a series of pictures showcasing our son’s journey. From his earliest days as a baby to his growth throughout the years. The overwhelming joy in my heart brought tears streaming down my face. I longed to have witnessed every moment of her growth, shedding tears of happiness along the way.

“On the first week of December, a kind woman brought this child to Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood, five days after her birth. In exchange for generous donations, they decided to adopt the child and requested to bring him here for some undisclosed reason,” Sister Melissa shared, capturing our immediate attention.

“My child was born on November 30,” I interjected, pained by the realization that, even after his birth, we remained in the dark about his existence.

Sister Melissa nodded, her expression filled with empathy. “This child has grown up in our care, her journey marked by silence and darkness due to his blindness. There is a void in her heart that needs to be filled. Everyone in our orphanage is like an angel, victimized by an unjust world. I am relieved to see that this little one still has a mother and a father. We named her Ava.”

I gently caressed the pictures of my daughter, knowing without a doubt that she was mine. Her features resembled mine, with hints of her father, Lucas, in his nose and eyes.

“Can we see her, Sister? We are overflowing with excitement,” I eagerly asked, taking a leap of faith. Sister Melissa nodded, giving us her blessing.

“Alright, come along, and I shall be your guide,” she graciously offered.

My husband tightly held my hand, our eyes meeting with unspoken love and anticipation. Together, we walked towards the back of the orphanage, where children happily played, except for one, who sat alone, lost in her thoughts. My heart ached, desperate to bridge the gap between my daughter and me, to hold her and let her feel the presence of her mother.

Seated on a bench, our daughter appeared small, with a frail frame and a pale complexion, her face seemingly expressionless. Overwhelmed, I felt as though a weight pressed upon me, urging me to rush towards her.

Approaching slowly, Lucas and I stood in front of our child. Her face was remarkably beautiful, resembling that of a delicate doll. Tears welled up in my eyes, unable to contain the immense happiness flooding my being. God had answered my prayers, bringing us to her before it’s too late.

“Hello, who are they?” our child asked calmly, her gentle tone causing a lump to form in my throat.

Nervously, I struggled to find the courage to speak.

“Are you sad?” I managed to ask, though I wasn’t even sure why.

A hint of sadness flickered in our daughter’s eyes. “I have grown accustomed to it…”© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I couldn’t resist embracing her. Lucas joined me in holding our daughter, tears mingling with overwhelming emotions.

“Are you here to adopt me?” she questioned. “But I’m blind. You might regret it,” she added, her words squeezing my heart.

“Never, my dear. You have a mother now. We are deeply sorry for the time we’ve been apart, but we’re here now. We love you so much. We’re sorry we were late,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.