The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 137: In Coma

Dalia blinked fast, reliving it. "I... I wasn’t feeling well. About an hour before everything happened, I drank the tea she made. Minutes later, I felt the worst stomach cramps of my life. I went to the washroom, and I must’ve passed out. I woke up much later on the floor."

Stanley’s jaw clenched. "So she drugged you, too. Smart. Took out the only person Mara fully trusted."

Dalia nodded slowly, guilt washing over her. "She knew I’d recognize her. That’s why she made sure I was out of the way."

Valerie stepped forward, her tone sharper now. "You were asked to confirm the body. Was it her?"

Dalia swallowed hard. "Yes. That was Sandra."

Stefan looked at Steve, his voice tight. "Philip’s getting bold. That woman was a weapon he planted right under our roof. She delivered the child."

"She took my nephew," Steve growled. "She was in the room when Mara nearly died."

Stanford turned to the head of security, who was standing nervously in the corner.

"All of them," Stanford said coldly. "Every guard, every maid, every member of staff who let this happen—they’re gone. Right now."

"Already done, sir," the man stammered. "New security is arriving today. Background-checked. Armed. Cleared. No one comes in without triple verification."

"Good," Steve said. "We won’t be caught off guard again."

Valerie crossed her arms, scanning the room. "If Philip thinks we’re going to sit here and let this happen... he’s forgotten who we are."

Stefan nodded slowly, looking up toward the staircase where Mara lay unconscious.

"We need to find that baby," he said. "And we need to bring her back to life."

It was quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The kind that feels like being underwater—muted, heavy, slow. Mara stood barefoot in a place that looked like home, but wasn’t.

The halls stretched too long. The walls whispered things she couldn’t understand. Light filtered in strange colors through windows that shouldn’t be there. And she was alone.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed into nothing. No answer.

She clutched her stomach, expecting to feel the swell of her babies, but there was only silence. Flatness. Emptiness.

Then... a sound.

A baby’s cry. Faint. Distant.

Mara turned, instinct kicking in. "My baby?"

She ran barefoot over marble floors, the house shifting around her. Every door she opened led to another hallway. Another room. Another echo.

She saw flickers, images of babies crying. Mara slammed her palms to her head. "Wake up... wake up!" she begged herself.

But she couldn’t.

She collapsed to her knees. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Then she felt it, warmth.

Two tiny hands on her face.

She looked up and saw... a little boy. No more than five. His hair was soft and brown, his eyes familiar.

He smiled.

"Don’t stop, Mama. I’m waiting."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Who are you...?"

He tilted his head, as if amused. "You know me."

Then a second voice called from the light behind her. Softer. Higher. "Come back, Mama. We need you."

Mara turned again and saw a little girl with curls like hers, clutching a pair of baby shoes in her small hands.

Something inside her stirred. Fierce. Mother. Warrior.

"No one’s taking my babies," she whispered.

She rose, every step forward fighting the weight of the coma, of darkness, of Philip’s evil. Her body was still. But her spirit? Her spirit was ready to claw her way back to the light.

The morning was heavy with silence.

The air carried a tension that hadn’t broken since that night. The mansion, though guarded and full, felt hollow. The Shepherd brothers sat in the study—Steve at the head of the long mahogany table, Stanley pacing, Stefan on his tablet checking updates from the hospital, and Stanford, arms crossed, barely holding it together.

A knock came at the door.

Two detectives walked in, tight expressions on their faces. Steve stood slowly. He didn’t like visitors. Not anymore.

"We have something to tell you," one of the officers said, his tone clipped. "We’ve been tracking Philip... and he’s no longer in custody."

The room fell completely still.

"What did you just say?" Stanley said, his voice a low, lethal whisper.

The second detective cleared his throat. "Philip Shepherd escaped three days ago during a transfer to a high-security facility. We’ve just confirmed his identity through an internal investigation. He had help from inside."

"And you’re just telling us now?" Steve snapped.

"We didn’t want to cause alarm until we had solid proof—"

"My sister is in a coma," Stefan said, his voice sharp and shaking. "She was nearly killed. One of her children was taken. And you didn’t think it was important to tell us the psychopath who had kidnapped her before was loose?"

Stanford slammed a fist on the table. "You gave him three days. Three days. He could be halfway across the world by now!"

The lead officer tried to remain calm. "He’s still in the country, we believe. We’re activating full manhunt protocols." freēwēbnovel.com

Steve leaned in, his eyes deadly. "If we find him before you do, you’d better hope we’re in a merciful mood."

The officers backed off quickly, realizing they’d made a grave mistake. As soon as they were gone, Stanley turned to his brothers. "We find him, we find our nephew,"

—-

Ethan sat beside her bed, where he had every day since she fell into the coma. He hadn’t shaved. He barely ate. The only time he left was to bathe or check in with Valerie and Bella about the baby.

The baby girl, his daughter, slept peacefully in the crib beside Mara, her tiny fists curled at her chest, her breath slow and perfect.

Ethan gently touched Mara’s hand.

"I haven’t named her," he whispered. "I won’t. Not without you. That’s yours. That’s always been yours."

He leaned in closer, forehead to her hand, eyes closed.

"I miss you, Mara. I miss your voice. I miss your fire. I miss you yelling at me about the wrong ice cream."

The monitor beeped steadily beside her.

"You told me to believe in you... to trust you. I do. I believe you’re fighting your way back."

Just then, the baby cooed. Ethan looked at her, then back at Mara, something cracking in his chest. "Please," he whispered. "Come back. We need you."

—

It was night now.

A never-ending twilight wrapped the strange halls around her. The floor was softer here, moss-covered almost. Trees had begun to grow inside the house, gnarled and ancient, branching through walls and windows as if nature had overtaken time.

Mara wandered barefoot, wearing a long ivory dress that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her eyes were determined. Her heartbeat echoed louder in her ears.

Then she heard it again.

A voice.

"Please... come back. We need you."

Ethan.

His voice carried like a whisper on the wind, pulling at her heart. She turned toward it and began to run faster this time. The path curved and twisted, doors appearing and disappearing as if mocking her. But she didn’t stop.

Then another cry. A baby’s cry.

She reached a clearing, an open garden bathed in moonlight. In the middle, a crib. Two of them, actually.

One was full. The little girl with her curls and tiny hands lay inside, cooing, reaching up at invisible stars.

The other was empty. Mara fell to her knees, her hand hovering above the vacant crib.

"My son..." she whispered. A shadow passed through the trees behind her.

Mara stood, her body trembling, eyes locked ahead. "Show yourself!" she shouted. And the darkness did.

Philip appeared in her mind, tall and twisted, smiling like a monster in the shape of a man. But this wasn’t the real world—this was her world. And in here, he couldn’t touch her.

Still, he spoke, taunting. "You’re weak, Stef. Lying in a bed. Slipping away. Your baby is mine now." Her jaw tightened.

"You don’t own anything. Especially not me. And especially not my children."

The trees began to shudder. The wind shifted, fireflies glowing brighter. Her voice grew stronger.

"You tried to break me once. You failed then. You’ll fail again." She stepped forward. The shadows recoiled. And behind her, the second crib began to flicker with light.

A heartbeat. A flicker. Another tiny cry. Mara’s lips trembled.

"I’m coming for you, baby. Both of you. Mama’s not done yet." The garden began to glow.

And far away, in the real world, the monitor beside her bed blinked—and beeped just a little faster

–

The baby slept quietly in her crib, the soft hum of the monitor the only sound in the room. Ethan sat beside Mara as always, his fingers loosely wrapped around hers, eyes heavy from lack of sleep but never truly closing.

Then... it happened. Beep. Beep. Beep. The heart monitor ticked up—just a notch.

Ethan’s eyes snapped open. He looked at the screen. Then at her hand. He could feel it. A twitch.

"Mara?" he whispered, standing suddenly. "Mara can you hear me?" Her fingers moved again.

He didn’t wait. He grabbed his phone and called Stefan first.

"You need to come now. Something’s happening—Mara—she’s responding. I swear I saw her move!" He was already on his feet, hitting the next call. "Steve. Get here. Now. She’s waking up." Then Stanley. Then Stanford.

Stefan’s voice on the other end was filled with both hope and urgency. "I’m coming."