Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Zeke’s POV

Please, Zeke. Don’t.

Kamille’s words kept replaying in my head as I left the hospital garden. My emotions roared inside me like a stormy sea but I could not show it.

My demeanor became very cold and aloof wrapping around my heart like an icy grip. Anger coursed through me as I kept thinking of what had just happened. Hurt and pain gnawed at my insides, a deep ache that seemed to consume me from within.

Each step I took felt heavy, weighed down by the burden of my emotions. My jaw shut tightly, teeth grinding together with suppressed frustration. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I fought to contain the turmoil raging within me.

I walked back into the hospital. The nurses scurried past me. My face bore no warmth and my expression was grim till I arrived at Doctor John’s office.

As I approached the office, I opened the door to meet him scribbling down something on a patient’s folder. “Release them,” I said dryly.

The doctor had stopped scribbling and stood up when he saw me. “Mr. Reid?” He was somewhat confused by my instructions.

“Discharge Kamille and the kids,” I said clearly.

“But Sir, I know you had earlier wanted them to stay, but now we really need them to stay so we can….”

“Release them.” I interrupted Doctor John. “Make provisions for the medical team to visit them regularly.”

Though my words were calm, I could still feel the storm that raged inside me. I turned and went out of the hospital, using the VIP exit.

Arriving at the private parking lot, I sat in my car and closed my eyes shut. What the fuck did Christopher say to Kamille? How did he know I was watching her? Who the hell was he?

Just when I had felt that everything was going well and I would do well to make sure that Kamille and the kids were comfortable, this just came in and shattered any form of calm and peace that existed.

As I was basking in my displeasing thoughts, I remembered Kamille would need an escort to take her and the kids home.

Knowing she would turn down any offer from me, I decided to call her friends. I picked up my phone to dial their number.

I don’t fucking have their numbers.

Frustration gnawed at my insides as I considered my next move. I decided on calling Mr. Rogers instead, he would find a way to get across to them. I dialed his number and after a ring, he picked up.

“Mr. Reid.” He greeted me.

“I need you to pass information to Kamille’s friends.” I began. “She and the kids were involved in a near car accident, but they’re fine and need home rest. She could use their help in escorting them home.” I instructed.

“Okay, Sir.” Mr. Rogers said. “But Sir…” He continued but paused briefly.

“I don’t have all day Mr Rogers,” I said into the phone.

“Why aren’t you doing it yourself, Sir?” He asked, confusion evident in his voice.

My reply came out cold and clipped. “Kamille wouldn’t want me to,” I stated flatly before abruptly ending the call.

The weight of my emotions pressed down on me like a leaden blanket as I sat alone in the silence of my car and not long after, Mr Rogers called to inform me that Kamille and her friends were leaving at the moment.

I turned on the car’s ignition and reversed out of the private car park to the general car park. I found a place away from public view where I could see them clearly.

I watched as they all settled into Amanda’s car. The nurses helped them with the kids till they settled inside the car.

My eyes lingered on Kamille’s face. She looked tired and worn out. I clenched my fist tightly.

How much pain have I brought on her? I promise I’ll right my wrongs and make everyone who tried to harm her and my kids pay.

My conviction wavered a little as I watched their car speed away from the hospital. A sudden sense of helplessness washed over me like a tidal wave. A mixture of frustration, anger, and heartache swirled within me.

With a deep breath, I reached for my phone and dialed Andrew’s number. As the call connected, I wasted no time in giving him my instructions.

“I need you to call off the security personnel watching over the kids and Kamille,” I instructed.

“But Sir, following the incident that just happened we need to be tightening security and not calling them off.” Andrew reasoned.

“Do what I say. I have something in mind.” I replied, my voice firm and commanding.

At that moment, all sense of warmth had dissipated from me, and all that was left was a freezing cold. I would do what she wants, but I will do what I must to protect them.

Once the call with Andrew ended, I quickly dialed Fletcher’s number, my mind already racing with plans.

“Hello, brother.” Fletcher sounded from the other end of the line.

“I need five men from the special operations dispatched immediately,” I instructed.

Fletcher, hearing my tone, knew what that meant. “Okay, brother. Who are they to execute?” He asked.

“They are not executing yet, but guarding. Each man is assigned to each of my kids and one to Kamille.” I stated, my voice authoritative and commanding.

The special operations team was managed by the Caruso family. Although their old man was very strict on who was allowed to make use of the team, he would never turn me down.

The team was specially trained to protect their lives and execute any form of threat on sight. They were discreet and no civilian ever saw their faces.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Frederick responded, his voice filled with understanding. “Consider it done brother.” He replied then I hung up.

I refused to let my emotions cloud my judgment. Kamille and the kids’ safety was paramount, and I would do whatever it took to ensure their protection.

Having seen the wickedness and evil that exists in this world, I knew that sometimes, the only way to protect those we cared about was to take matters into our own hands.

And I was prepared to do whatever it took to keep Kamille and the kids safe, even if it meant unleashing the demon I kept hidden away in chains.

I need a drink. I sighed and turned on my car, and then I drove to the casino.

I entered the inner chambers of the private lounge of the casino, exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders, dragging me down like an anchor in the sea. I sat in the nearest leather chair.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Summoning the bartender with a weary gesture, I ordered in a low, gravelly voice, “Give me a double shot of the finest whiskey.”

But to my frustration, the bartender hesitated, his reluctance palpable in the air. “Sir, it’s only four pm,” he said cautiously, his words like a soft breeze against the storm raging within me.

Ignoring his protest, I snapped back, my patience worn thin by the events of the day. “I don’t give a fuck about what time it is. Just pour the damn drink.”

Reluctantly, the bartender complied, pouring out the amber liquid with trembling hands. As he slid the glass across the bar to me, his curiosity got the better of him. “Will Mr. Zane and Mr. Fletcher be joining you today, Sir?” he inquired, sincerely concerned about me.

But my gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation sparking behind my eyes. “Who do you think owns this place?” I shot back, my voice laced with icy authority. “And who the hell signs your paycheck?”

The bartender faltered, realizing his misstep too late. “Y-you do sir,” he stammered, his voice quivering with apprehension.

“I thought so too,” I replied, my tone sharp with warning. “So you better shut your mouth and pour the damn drink, or I’ll do it for you.”

With a gulp, the bartender nodded hastily, scurrying to fulfill my request without further protest. As I raised the glass to my lips and took a long, bitter sip, a sense of bitter satisfaction filled the holes of my broken heart.

Soon the familiar haze of alcohol began to cloud my senses but I still drank until I could no longer coordinate my thoughts properly. I stood up and left the inner room of the private lounge area. Arriving outside, I was met with commotion by the door.

With a furrowed brow, I walked unsteadily towards the door, the world swaying slightly around me but I managed to maintain my balance.

Peering through the dimly lit interior of the lounge, I could make out the figure of a woman standing just beyond the threshold, flanked by a pair of imposing guards who seemed intent on barring her entry. Squinting against the dim light, I struggled to make out her features, a sense of recognition stirring deep within me.

Kamille?