Chapter 5: New life, new beginning, second chance to life.

PRESENT 

Wilson sighed, looking down at the baby in her arms. She had come so far since that day. And now, her life was about to change again. 

Wilson exhaled, the weight of the moment pressing into her chest. Her life had changed so many times.

She remembered the day Dr. Wilson Stephen became more than just a mentor.

At first, their relationship had been professional—guidance, career advice, an occasional check-in. But over time, he had become a steady presence. He listened, he cared, and when he finally met her mother and siblings, everything shifted.

She had expected him to be polite, maybe a little distant. But instead, he had looked at them—her hardworking mother, her younger siblings who had grown up without a father—and he had chosen them.

"I know I can't replace what you never had," he had told her one evening, voice steady but full of emotion. "But I want to be here. If you'll let me."

And he had. He had adopted them, married her mother, given them a home, a family.

Wilson had spent her entire life without a father. Then, just one day, she had one.

Her now father bought her a huge house on her graduation as a surgeon. She didn't have to live with the family anymore. She owned her own house with 4 servants, and a security guard. Making sure she was good and this made her so comfortable that she hadn't thought of marrying or having children. Her career was her everything. 

Now, sitting in her office, holding the tiny baby in her arms, she wondered—was this how her father had felt when he chose them?

Looking at someone so small, so vulnerable, and deciding, I will love you. I will protect you.

Her throat tightened. She had been given a second chance at family once.

Maybe… maybe this was her turn to do the same.

Wilson adjusted the baby in her arms, his tiny weight feeling heavier with every passing second.

Everything in her life had been carefully planned—her education, her career, her leadership at the hospital. But this? This was never part of the plan.

Wilson was the owner of two big hospitals her father had given her in the country and no one really knew except few people close to her. No one knew that Dr. Wilson Stephen—the respected cardiac surgeon—was her father.

He had built an empire, and now, she quietly ran it.

And yet, at this moment, none of that mattered. Because now, she wasn't just a surgeon. She wasn't just the head of a hospital. She was a mother.

Her grip on the baby tightened slightly. He was so small. So fragile. And he was hers now.

The weight of that responsibility hit her all over again.

Before she could spiral further, the intercom buzzed.

"Dr. Wilson, we need you in the NICU," a nurse's voice came through. "One of the preemies is crashing."

Wilson sighed, standing carefully. She cradled the baby close, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before handing him to Nurse Aisha.

"Stay here with him" she said. "I'll be back soon."

As she walked out, heading toward another emergency, one thought lingered in her mind.

This wasn't just about her anymore. She had someone to come back to

AT HOME, IN THE NURSERY 

Wilson stood in the nursery, the dim glow of the nightlight casting soft shadows across the room. She had called her servants earlier to prepare a room for her new born. Also instructed them to go shop for him, getting him all the necessary items needed. They had a lot of questions but decided to ask at the right time. She stepped into the nursery, and for a moment, she simply stood there, overwhelmed. Just as she liked it. It was… breathtaking.

The room was enormous—larger than she imagined —with high ceilings and soft golden lighting. The walls were painted in a deep, rich navy blue, Filling the space with a quiet charm, A sky full of stars covered the ceiling, a masterpiece of planets, and swirling galaxies. It looked like something straight out of a dream. The servants knew her that much to get this serious details.

A massive, custom-made crib stood at the center, made of dark wood with detailed gold carvings along the edges.. Inside, the bedding was very soft—cloud-like blue and white silk sheets with plush cushions arranged to perfection.

She turns to the left, a luxurious leather rocking chair sat beside the large window, which overlooked the wide garden below. Heavy navy-blue curtains, embroidered with tiny golden stars, draped over the glass, giving the illusion of a starry night even in the daytime.

The changing station was a masterpiece in itself—a sleek, dark wood dresser with gold-accented handles, stocked to the brim with baby essentials. Rows of tiny designer clothes, neatly arranged by color, lined the massive walk-in closet. No expense had been spared.

There was even a small chandelier —delicate and glowing, casting a soft, magical light over the entire space.

Wilson walked in slowly, running a hand along the edge of the crib. It reminded her of her own bedroom—the same masculine elegance, the same dark, rich colors.

She had never been the type for soft pinks and delicate pastels. Her room was all deep blues, blacks, and dark greys. Strong. Solid. Unshakable.

And now, her son's room mirrored that strength.

Because he would grow up strong. Loved. Protected.

Just like she had been, once her father had stepped into her life.

Wilson exhaled slowly, turning to the small bundle in her arms.

This was his home now. His kingdom.

And she would make sure he never felt alone

And she would make sure he never felt alone.

The baby lay in the crib, tiny hands curling and uncurling in sleep. His little breaths were steady, his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket she had carefully tucked around him.

The room had been prepared more than she imagined —. Everything was perfect. Yet, she felt so unprepared.

She leaned against the crib, watching him. Her son.

The thought still felt foreign. A day ago, she had walked into the ER as a surgeon. Now, she was a mother.

She exhaled and sat in the rocking chair, rubbing her temple. Her mind drifted, unwillingly, to Stella.

The first day she had seen her. It had been the first year of high school.

Stella Edwards had arrived at St. Jones High School like she was royalty. Her parents had dropped her off in a sleek black car, stepping out like a scene from a movie. Her father—tall and white—had an air of quiet authority. But it was her mother who had drawn the most attention. A striking Black woman, proud and regal.

Wilson had stood among the students, watching.

Stella was the only Caucasian girl in the entire school. But she wasn't just any girl—she was breathtaking.

The sunlight had caught her braids, a wild mix of dark and golden strands. Her uniform had been perfectly pressed, her shoes gleaming. She had carried herself with effortless grace, chin lifted, as if she knew she belonged, even if she was different.

Wilson had never believed in love at first sight. But something had shifted inside her that day. She had never spoken to Stella. Never had the courage. But she had noticed her. Always.

Now, years later, Stella was under her care, in the hospital she owned. Fate had brought her back and she didn't think she was going to let go this time. she was concerned if Stella would like her as much as she does, especially being a woman not a man.

Wilson ran a hand through her dreads, glancing back at her sleeping son.

First Stella. Now him. The two biggest surprises of her life—both arriving on the same day. She didn't know what it meant. But she knew her life would never be the same.