wake up married 2

Natalie stared at the note, the words on the paper twisting her insides like a vice. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a war drum. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. Yvonne was five—a little bundle of chaos, full of life. But Yvonne was wise beyond her years, the kind of wise that tugged at Natalie’s heart in ways she couldn’t explain. “Eve’s gone?” Her voice cracked as she sprang to her feet. “We need to find her, now!” Before she could take a step, Christopher shoved her down, his hand firm against her shoulder. “Stop acting like you care, Natalie! You must’ve said something to her. That’s why she ran away! No wonder you were acting so damn weird yesterday. You still think you can use Eve’s marrow to save that bastard’s daughter, don’t you?” His words hit like a slap. The hatred in his eyes burned bright, raw. A child, but with the fury of someone far older. Jonathan stood, his gaze cold, impassive as he picked up the sobbing boy. His face was like stone, his eyes as empty as a winter sky. “Natalie,” Jonathan’s voice cut through the tension, low and deadly. “The kids are my limit. If anything happens to Eve, I’ll make sure Jacques never sees the light of day again.” The threat wasn’t new. He’d wanted it done long before now. But she had kept him in check—threatened him with her own life, her own misery. Every time he thought about moving against Jacques, she’d make it clear. And she’d backed it up. Time after time, she’d hurt herself, forced his hand. Natalie didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. They wouldn’t believe her anyway. Right now, all that mattered was finding Eve. Her silence made Jonathan uneasy. His mind raced. There had been times, too many times, when she’d flown into a rage at the mere mention of Jacques—shouting, breaking things, hurling curses at him like daggers. But today? She was eerily calm. Too calm. His gut twisted. He feared she might hurt herself again, and before leaving, he barked orders to the staff, telling them to keep their eyes on her. “If anything goes wrong, you call me. Immediately.” The car ride was still, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Jonathan’s voice broke the silence, his words heavy, like a stone sinking in water. “You shouldn’t have pushed her. She’s your mother.” Christopher’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes dark with a pain no child should carry. “Mother? She’s never treated me or Eve like we were her kids.” She hated him. Hated his sister. The rage had burned through her more times than she cared to count. She’d screamed, cursed, and wished they’d never been born. He’d begged Natalie for love, like Yvonne had. But all she had received was a single, biting word, “Disgusting.” The assistant in the front seat of the car picked up his phone. He turned to Jonathan, his face stiff, almost mechanical. “Mr. Hyperion, we’ve located Ms. Yvonne. She’s at the hospital, preparing for a bone marrow transplant … ” Jonathan’s gaze cut through him like a blade. The hesitation didn’t escape him. The assistant shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lowering his voice. “Mrs. Hyperion is also at the hospital … ” … Gianna had given Natalie the answer she’d been desperately searching for. When she arrived at the hospital, her eyes locked onto Eve. The little girl stood frozen by the operating room door. A woman stood beside her, a woman with thick, dark hair cascading in waves around her shoulders. “Is it true, Courtney? Mommy won’t leave us if I help Gwen?” “Of course, sweetheart,” Courtney cooed, her voice smooth and sickly sweet. “As long as you give your marrow to save my daughter, Natalie will stay. It’s just a little blood, nothing serious. You don’t want to lose your mommy, do you?” Courtney’s smile stretched, cold and sharp as a knife’s edge, her eyes glinting with something much darker. A bone marrow transplant wasn’t a simple procedure. It was dangerous, even for an adult. But for a five-year-old? Courtney didn’t care. She just wanted her daughter safe. As for Natalie’s child? She was expendable. “Stop!” Natalie’s voice rang out, fierce and commanding. “Natalie?!” Courtney spun around, her face draining of color. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost in broad daylight. “I’ll do anything, Mommy. Blood for Gwen. Marrow for Gwen. Mommy, please don’t leave us … ” Yvonne’s voice wavered, thick with terror. She didn’t dare look up, her tiny fingers gripping Natalie’s sleeve like a lifeline. Natalie’s heart clenched, as if someone had dug their fingers into her chest and twisted. She sank to her knees, brushing the tears from Eve’s face with the gentlest touch. “It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy won’t leave you.” “But Mommy has something important to do right now. Can you close your eyes and count to 100? Oh no … maybe 500?” “500 numbers too hard for a 5-year-old, maybe,” Natalie muttered under her breath. Yvonne heard that. Yvonne’s eyes shot up, her small face set with determination. “No, Mommy! I’m not stupid. I’m smart!” She was scared, terrified that her mother would think she was a fool. She couldn’t lose the soft, loving mother in front of her. “Of course you’re the best, Eve. Now, let’s start counting.” Natalie ruffled Eve’s hair, her hands clenching into fists as she stretched, preparing herself. “Mommy, when I finish counting to 500, will you be gone?” Yvonne’s voice was small, cracking with anxiety. “No, I won’t. Pinky promise. Lying is for rotten eggs.” Natalie held out her pinky. Yvonne nodded, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. “I believe you, Mommy.” She didn’t want her mother to be a rotten egg. Clutching her doll, Yvonne turned away, her voice soft and steady. “One … two … ” Natalie slipped headphones over Yvonne’s ears, then rose to her feet, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. Without hesitation, she grabbed a fistful of Courtney’s long hair, jerking her forward. Smack! The sound of the slap echoed through the room, followed by another, then another—each one leaving Courtney’s face swollen and bruised. “You hit me! How dare you!” “Of course I dare! You lied to my daughter, you bitch!” The 18-year-old Natalie was fury incarnate, her eyes burning with rage. She had no fear, no hesitation. She struck again, her fists raining down, each blow landing with a finality that seemed to shake the very air. By the time Jacques arrived, the scene before him hit him like a punch to the gut. Courtney, nearly unrecognizable, lay battered and broken beneath Natalie’s feet. Natalie sat in the armchair with a casual grace, her eyes gleaming with a mix of cold beauty and deadly arrogance. She looked like a red rose—proud, sharp, and dangerous. This was the Natalie he remembered, the one who had once stood above him, untouchable and proud. The Lady Natalie he had once tried to break. “Jacques, save me!” Jacques moved instinctively, pulling Natalie away, his hands reaching for the wreck that was Courtney. Her hair was ripped out in handfuls, and her body was a mess of bruises. “Natalie, what the hell are you doing?!” Natalie’s voice was sharp, dripping with contempt. “Obedience class for a bitch. As you can see, class is still in session.” Jacques froze. He had never heard her speak like that. This wasn’t the woman he knew. The woman he knew would only do this for one thing: his attention. And he thought Natalie was still his obedient little puppy. “Natalie, apologize to Nini, now! If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you. You’ll never see me again!” He said it like he always had, expecting her to fall in line, like a marionette obeying its strings. But not this time. He had miscalculated. Smack! The slap hit him like a lightning strike. His head snapped to the side, and before he could react, a powerful kick drove into his knee. He buckled, crashing to the floor, landing hard as he found himself kneeling before Natalie. “Natalie, you … !” He didn’t finish. Her fingers gripped his hair, yanking his head back with a brutal precision. Her voice was ice, cutting through the tension like a knife. “A princess doesn’t bow to a peasant, and you’re a filthy one. No, you’re the one who should be bowing to me, and … ” Her gaze flicked toward Courtney, disdain written all over her face. “Make sure you and your bitch stay away from me. If I see either of you again, I’ll make sure I break both your legs.” She was a black belt in taekwondo. For her, dealing with Jacques and Courtney was nothing more than a quick, satisfying exercise in power. Jacques seethed, fury building up in his chest like a storm. This wasn’t over. He would make Natalie regret this. Courtney’s grip tightened around Jacques’ arm, her voice pleading, “Honey, save our daughter first! We need Yvonne’s marrow!” The mention of his daughter cooled Jacques’ fury just enough for him to shove it aside. He stepped in front of Natalie, blocking her path as she tried to leave, Yvonne cradled in her arms. “Natalie,” he sneered, “if you let your daughter donate her marrow to save Gwen, I’ll marry you. Right now. How’s that for a deal?” His words hung in the air, thick with condescension. He expected her to crumble, to drop to her knees and sob with gratitude. He thought she’d be moved by his so-called sacrifice. Yvonne squeezed her doll tighter, her tiny fingers shaking. The surgery didn’t scare her—not really. What terrified her was the idea of her mother marrying this jerk. Natalie felt the tension in Yvonne’s body, her instinct as a mother kicking in. She reached down, gently patting her daughter’s back, offering comfort. Then, her eyes lifted to Jacques. Cold, sharp, calculating—her gaze cut through him like a blade. “Marry me?” Her voice dripped with venom. “What makes you think you’re good enough?” “Know your place, Jacques. A brute like you cannot hope to marry someone of my stature. Courtney, however … well, she fits you like a glove. Like a sewer to a rat.” Jacques’ face twisted with fury, humiliation rising up his throat like bile. He’d spent his life climbing, using women like stepping stones, but the look in Natalie’s eyes shattered his carefully crafted façade. He had self-esteem issues—an inferiority complex. And that made his ego inflate to impossible sizes. His pride was all he had left, but Natalie had just torn it to pieces. Jacques grabbed her arm, his grip like iron, a sneer curling on his lips. “Natalie, do you really think you’re still the same lady you once were? I heard Jonathan’s had enough of you. Wants a divorce. Without him, you’re nothing. Just a homeless bitch.” He raised his hand, a slap aimed straight at her face. Natalie stood frozen, holding Yvonne, her heart racing. She couldn’t move, couldn’t dodge it. She braced for the hit, knowing it was coming. But after what felt like an eternity, the pain never came. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Jonathan stood before her, his hand gripping Jacques’ wrist, stopping the strike mid-air. Then came the sickening snap. Someone’s bones were broken. Jacques’ face drained of color, his scream echoing down the sterile hospital halls. Jonathan yanked him forward, his gaze dark and filled with a dangerous intensity. Behind the cold eyes, a storm of emotions brewed, barely contained. “She’s neither homeless nor a bitch,” Jonathan’s voice was low, deadly. “This is Natalie. She’s my wife. And her place is with me.”