A Billionaire Never Thought His Twin Girls Could Smile Again… Until He Saw His Maid Doing This!
The Breaking Fever
The week began with sunlight and ended with shadows. At noon on Thursday, Bella pushed away her food with unusual force.
Her cheeks, normally flushed with mischief, looked pale. Grace touched her forehead.
Warm. Too warm.
By 1:00, Gabby’s skin was hot as well. Her small body limp against Grace’s chest.
Grace’s stomach knotted. She checked the thermometer twice.
Both twins had fevers climbing fast.
“Madame Tina,” she called, steady but urgent.
The house manager entered, frowning.
“What now?”
“They’re burning. I need to see Mr. Cole.”
“He traveled this morning,” Tina said, “business in Abuja. He won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Grace didn’t wait for permission. She packed a small bag: diapers, wipes, bottles, thin blankets.
She lifted both girls onto her hips and told the driver firmly, “Nearest hospital, now.”
The driver blinked at her authority but obeyed. The emergency ward hit her senses at once.
Bright lights, antiseptic sting, nurses moving quickly. Bella whimpered weakly.
Gabby had stopped crying, which frightened Grace more than any scream. The doctor hurried them in.
“High fevers. We’ll start fluids and monitor vitals.”
Grace stood aside, lips moving in prayer.
“God, please not them. Not now.”
Wires, beeps, cool cloths pressed to tiny foreheads. Bella’s small hand searched blindly until Grace caught it.
Gabby’s eyelids fluttered as a nurse adjusted her IV line. Grace leaned close, whispering, “Stay with me, my queens. I won’t leave you.”
Hours blurred. Chairs grew harder.
Her back ached from leaning. Her eyes stung from refusing to close.
Yet she never moved far from the beds. Back at the mansion, Adrien returned earlier than expected.
He stepped into the quiet nursery. Empty cribs.
No note. His chest constricted.
He stormed through the halls.
“Where are my girls?”
His voice cracked. Tina wrung her hands.
“Hospital, sir. They had fevers. Grace took them.”
He didn’t wait. He was already out the door.
At the hospital, Grace bent over the twins brushing damp curls from their faces when a shadow fell across the ward. Adrien.
His eyes scanned wires, monitors, pale cheeks, and then locked on Grace.
“You should have called again,” he snapped, his voice raw.
Grace’s throat tightened.
“I did. I’m sorry.”
He closed his eyes, the anger collapsing into something heavier. Guilt.
“No, I’m sorry. You did right.”
He moved to Bella’s side, taking her tiny hand as if it were glass. Grace stood opposite holding Gabby’s.
Between them lay the fragile, burning proof that they were not enemies, not employer and employee, but something else. Two adults fighting for the same children.
Near dawn, the fever broke like a storm passing. Bella slept deeply.
Gabby’s breathing softened. The doctor smiled.
There, turning the corner, Grace pressed both hands to her face whispering, “Thanks.”
Adrienne exhaled as if a weight larger than money had lifted from his shoulders. He looked at Grace across the hospital beds, eyes tired but clear.
“Thank you for not leaving.”
Grace shook her head softly.
“They’re my girls too. At least in my heart.”
Something shifted in him. He didn’t say the words out loud, but they hung between the beeps and quiet sighs.
“Mine too.”
By the time the twins were discharged, Adrienne knew Grace was more than a nanny. But he also knew the shadows of grief still lived in his halls, and they would not let go easily.
