The Hidden Secret of My Billionaire Wife

Inside the pristine white walls of a hospital, a man rushed into the delivery room, his heart pounding as he took in the scene before him—a patient lying on the bed, bleeding heavily from her lower abdomen. The name stitched onto his uniform read Michael Coulthard. The woman was suffering from severe hemorrhaging, and without wasting a second, Michael put on his gloves, checking her dangerously unstable pulse. It was clear to him that a natural birth was no longer an option. An emergency C-section was their only chance to save both mother and child. Without hesitation, Michael sprinted out of the room to alert the attending doctor and gather additional nurses. Within moments, the team was prepping for surgery, securing the family’s consent as quickly as possible. The tension in the room was palpable; every second mattered. The patient was unconscious, her life hanging by a thread, and they all knew that they were fighting to save two lives. Forty agonizing minutes passed. The baby was finally delivered, but the room fell into a deafening silence. The newborn neither cried nor moved. Meanwhile, the mother remained in critical condition. Michael quickly turned his focus to the infant, gently patting its tiny back, desperately trying to elicit a response. He could still detect a faint heartbeat, which meant there was hope. Yet, as the others worked frantically to stabilize the mother, time was slipping away. “Please, breathe,” Michael muttered under his breath, refusing to give up. His voice cracked with emotion as he continued to stimulate the baby, aided by his colleague, Samuel, who brought over an oxygen mask. As minutes ticked by, hope in the room dwindled. The baby remained unresponsive, its small body lifeless. “Mike, she's gone,” Samuel whispered, his hand resting on Michael's shoulder. “We’ve been trying for nearly an hour. There's nothing more we can do.” “No, she’s not,” Michael insisted, shaking his head. He was aware the baby’s heartbeat had faded, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. The infant’s body was still warm—he just knew, deep down, that there was still a chance. Determined, Michael continued his efforts, his hands trembling from exhaustion and desperation. Then, just as everyone’s spirits were about to break, a tiny wail pierced the silence. Slowly, they can hear the baby's crying. Michael’s knees nearly gave out as he collapsed onto the floor, overwhelmed with relief. Sweat dripped down his face as the room erupted in joyous cheers. The doctor swiftly took over, checking the newborn’s vitals, while the rest of the team shared hugs of relief. Michael's breath finally steadied as he walked out of the delivery room, taking in a deep lungful of fresh air. Samuel followed close behind, pulling him into a tight embrace. “You did an amazing job in there,” Samuel praised. “You’re a real superhero, Mike.” Michael managed a weary smile and re-entered the room to see the baby now cleaned up and resting peacefully. He approached, lifting the newborn gently, his eyes welling with tears as he gazed at the baby’s delicate, sleeping face. He felt an indescribable wave of emotion; this tiny life had been snatched back from the brink. With the mother now awake, Michael carefully placed the baby into her arms, witnessing the raw, unfiltered joy on her face. It was moments like this that made all the struggles of his job worthwhile. As he and Samuel exited the delivery room, exhaustion etched into their features, Samuel turned to him, curiosity in his eyes. “How did you know the baby was still alive?” Samuel asked, his tone serious. “I couldn’t feel a pulse, and after almost an hour... even I had given up.” Michael shrugged, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know. I just... I felt that her body was still warm. I couldn’t let go. I just had this feeling she was still with us.” Samuel shook his head in disbelief. “That was fu*king insane, Mike. I swear, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when she finally cried.” Michael let out a soft chuckle, still processing everything that had happened. Relief was a slow tide, washing over him in waves. “I saw the way you were looking at that baby,” Samuel teased suddenly, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly was I looking at her?” Mike shot back, arching a brow. “I think you’re ready to be a dad,” Samuel said, nudging him playfully. “You’re 28, Mike—a former soldier turned gynecology nurse. Next year you’ll be 29, then 30, and after that... well, you’ll just be getting old and ugly. Who’s going to want you then, unless you’re some rich sugar daddy?” Mike burst into laughter, shaking his head. Samuel was annoyingly spot-on. His previous relationships had all ended in failure, largely because of his former career as a soldier. Deployments had kept him away for months, and every time he returned, it was to another heartbreak. That was part of why he’d left the military to become a gynecology nurse. He was tired of the battlefield, both literal and emotional. “And who’d be interested in a broke gynecology nurse, anyway?” Mike muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Samuel. His voice was tinged with vulnerability, a rare glimpse behind his otherwise tough exterior. “No one wants to date a guy who isn't rolling in cash.” Samuel gave him a thoughtful look. “Actually, I do know someone. Her name’s Sophia Turner. She’s single, and she’s gorgeous. I could set you two up on a date if you’re interested.” Michael paused, considering the offer. But doubt quickly crept in. “You really think she’d go for a guy like me?” Samuel shrugged with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll run away screaming.” The two men laughed together, their friendship forged in the fires of past military missions. They had met when Samuel, a medic, was assigned to assist special forces units due to a shortage of doctors. Michael had always been reckless, constantly ending up injured, which led to him crossing paths with Samuel more often than anyone else. When Michael finally decided to leave the military, it was Samuel who offered him a way out—a job that, ironically, was all about saving lives rather than risking his own. * After returning home from the hospital, Mike finally agreed to Sam’s proposal to meet the woman named Sophia. Sam had told him she was 27 years old, a model for a prominent magazine, and came from a well-known family who owned a bakery in town. Tonight would be their first meeting, and Mike couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as he prepared for it. Ting! The sound of an incoming message broke Mike’s concentration as he adjusted his tie in front of the mirror. He glanced at his phone and saw Sam’s name on the screen. Sam: “She’s wearing a blue dress, has blonde hair, and carries a brown handbag. I’ve sent the restaurant location. Good luck, mate. Don’t screw this up. And, hey, don’t end up in bed with her on the first date, okay?” Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at the cheeky message. But despite the lighthearted tone, his hands were trembling slightly. He had never been this anxious about a date before. The fact that it had been years since he last went on one probably didn’t help. After taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Mike grabbed his jacket, locked his apartment, and hopped on his old motorcycle—a relic left to him by his late father. The engine roared to life, and soon, he was weaving through the city streets. It took him only 15 minutes to reach the upscale restaurant where Sam had arranged the meeting. The building stood tall and majestic, its elegant architecture gleaming under the city lights. As Mike walked in, he couldn’t help but feel out of place. The patrons here were all dressed impeccably, mostly in pairs, and the atmosphere buzzed with low conversations and clinking glasses. He felt a pang of insecurity, wishing he had worn something more fitting for the occasion. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the woman Sam had described. Eventually, he spotted her sitting alone by the large window, framed by the warm glow of the evening light. She was indeed dressed in a blue dress that hugged her slender figure, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. She was on her phone, speaking animatedly, completely unaware of his presence. As he approached, her voice became clearer, though she was clearly trying to keep her tone low. “Honey, if you don’t get married this year, I won’t let you inherit the business. You’re almost 28, and I wants a successor. Some of my business associates have already proposed marriage arrangements. If you don’t bring a prospective husband soon, I'll going to pick one for you.” “Gran-Gran, you can’t be serious—” Without meaning to, Mike interrupted, “Excuse me?” The woman looked up, her bright blue eyes locking onto his. For a moment, she seemed completely bewildered, and Mike realized he had just barged into a private conversation. His heart skipped a beat. Sam wasn’t kidding—she was stunning. Her alabaster skin, the soft curve of her lips, and the sharpness of her gaze all took him aback. “I’m really sorry. Have you been waiting long?” Mike asked, trying to sound casual despite the growing pit in his stomach. The woman blinked at him, her phone still pressed to her ear. “I’m sorry, but who are you?” she asked, her voice polite but laced with confusion. She set her phone down, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. “Ah, I’m Mike—Michael, but just call me Mike. I believe Sam had tell you that I am gynecologist." he said, extending his hand. The woman merely stared at it for a moment before Mike awkwardly retracted his hand, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Would you like to order something? I can call the waiter if you want,” he offered, flipping through the menu in a desperate attempt to break the ice. The woman continued to stare, clearly puzzled. “Excuse me, but I think you might be mistaken. I don’t recall having a date planned tonight.” Mike’s smile faltered. He looked down at his phone, wondering if Sam had played some kind of cruel prank on him. But then it hit him—this wasn’t Sophia. “I’m really sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing. “I think I’ve confused you with someone else. I’m supposed to meet someone named Sophia Turner.” The woman’s expression softened into a smile, and she leaned back in her chair, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m Felicia Fetrino Deborev,” she introduced herself with a slight tilt of her head. “Senior Executive at Deborev Company. And no, I’m not Sophia.” Deborev? Mike’s heart sank even further. Deborev Company was a powerhouse in the city, known for its towering headquarters right next to the hospital where he worked. He had unwittingly mistaken one of their top executives for his date. "My deepest apologies, Miss Deborev,” Mike stammered, standing up so abruptly that his chair scraped the floor. “I truly didn't mean to intrude. I... I should leave.” Without another word, he turned on his heel, practically fleeing from the scene, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Felicia sat there, stunned, watching as Mike disappeared behind the restaurant’s grand doors. But, almost comically, a moment later, he re-entered, clearly flustered. Shaking her head, she couldn't help but find the whole scene absurdly amusing. "Who was that, Felicia?" Her grandfather’s voice crackled through her phone. She’d completely forgotten to hang up. “No one, Grandpa. Just some confused guy who mistook me for someone else.” “I heard everything,” her grandfather chuckled. “He might make a good match.” “Grandpa!” she protested, rolling her eyes. “What? He was polite, at least.” “You haven’t even met him,” Felicia countered, exasperated. “I have my instincts, dear. Seventy years on this earth, and I can sense things—even through a phone call. Just marry him, and all of this,” he paused dramatically, “the company, the legacy—it’s yours.” With a sigh, Felicia ended the call without another word. As much as she detested the constant pressure to find a husband, she knew her grandfather had a point. Without a partner, her claim to her inheritance would remain in jeopardy. “Michael,” she murmured to herself, the name hanging in the air like a wisp of fog before fading into nothingness.