Pregnant and Spoiled by the Billionaire – Episode 48
Ethan’s tests found no infection or new injury. The neonatologist believed feeding fatigue had triggered the apnea, a reminder that apparent strength did not equal maturity. Sucking, swallowing, and breathing required coordination that could disappear when a premature infant became tired. He would remain hospitalized until he completed another event-free observation period and demonstrated safer feeding.
Amelia folded the discharge clothes and returned them to the bag. She had imagined carrying one son through the hospital doors, then introducing him to the nursery where four cribs waited. Losing the date felt like grief despite knowing Ethan remained safe.
Leo did not tell her they should be grateful. Gratitude and disappointment could share the same room. He placed the unused car seat in family housing rather than sending it home, preserving hope without forcing Amelia to look at it.
The delay allowed Daniel to catch up. He mastered bottle feeding over the next week and maintained his temperature without assistance. Doctors began discussing whether two brothers might leave close together.
Adam’s eye disease continued regressing after treatment. Caleb gained weight at a stubborn, steady pace. Benjamin’s surgical wound healed, and his neurological scan remained unchanged rather than worsening.
Amelia celebrated each update in separate journal entries. The practice prevented one setback from swallowing four victories and one victory from erasing another child’s struggle. She began understanding fivefold motherhood as attention without comparison.
Her therapist encouraged her to spend one night at the penthouse before discharge. Returning to the home where pregnancy began would test whether distance from the hospital felt manageable. Amelia agreed only after arranging scheduled calls rather than continuous video monitoring.
The nursery stunned her. Five cribs formed a gentle arc beneath a mural of the city skyline, but nothing displayed the Preston name in gold or treated the room like a dynasty exhibit. Each station held a journal, knitted cap, and photograph from the NICU.
Leo had preserved an empty wall for the boys to fill as they grew. “No commissioned portraits?” Amelia teased. He admitted Matilda had proposed several and been overruled.
They slept in the room beside the nursery, waking repeatedly despite the silence. Amelia heard phantom alarms and checked her phone until Leo reminded her of their scheduled update. She named five things she could see, slowed her breathing, and repeated the current facts: the boys were stable, nurses were present, and the hospital would call. She waited ten difficult minutes without allowing fear to rewrite reality.
The call reported all five stable. Trusting the nurses from a distance became another form of participating in care. Amelia returned to bed and slept until morning without catastrophe punishing her.
Back at the hospital, Ethan completed the observation period without another event. Daniel also met discharge criteria, though the team insisted each child leave according to individual readiness rather than family convenience.
Amelia and Leo completed room-in training, spending a full night caring for Ethan and Daniel while nurses observed from nearby. They practiced measuring medication, responding to choking, preparing fortified milk, and placing the babies safely to sleep. Feedings overlapped, schedules collided, and neither parent slept more than an hour. Competence emerged through repetition rather than confidence.
At three in the morning, Leo put Daniel’s clean diaper on backward. Amelia laughed so hard she nearly woke Ethan. The mistake reassured her more than perfect performance would have; they could learn without pretending wealth made them instantly competent.
Both boys passed their car-seat tests. Nurses reviewed warning signs, safe sleep, emergency contacts, and follow-up appointments. The volume of instructions filled a binder thick enough to resemble a corporate acquisition.
On discharge morning, no photographers waited because the hospital used a private exit shared with any family facing security concerns. Nurses checked the car seats once more and verified follow-up appointments before removing identification bands. Leo carried Daniel while Amelia carried Ethan, each movement supervised but not staged. The absence of an audience allowed them to feel like parents rather than public figures.
Crossing the threshold brought joy sharp enough to hurt. Amelia looked back toward the floor where three sons remained and silently promised her departure was not a choice against them.
Matilda welcomed the babies at the penthouse without guests, balloons, or cameras. She had prepared food for the parents and washed her hands before asking to hold anyone. Her restraint lasted nearly four full minutes.
The first night at home became a cycle of feeds, diapers, alarms, and whispered questions. Professional nurses assisted without taking over. By dawn, Amelia and Leo were exhausted but still speaking kindly, which felt like its own achievement.
Then the hospital called. Caleb’s routine blood test showed a dangerous drop in red cells, and doctors were preparing a transfusion. Amelia looked at the two sons sleeping at home and understood she had to leave them to return to another child in need.
