All Chapters of President's Second Chance At Love : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Ava's Pov I jolted awake, the feel of Richard’s hand gently tapping my leg pulling me from the depths of sleep. My eyes blinked open, struggling to adjust to the dim light of the living room. Richard was leaning over me, his face a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Ava,” he said softly, his voice laced with worry. “Why are you sleeping here? You should be in bed.” I groaned, my body feeling heavy and sluggish. “I must’ve dozed off... I was so tired,” I mumbled, trying to sit up. But the moment I did, a wave of nausea hit me like a freight train. My stomach churned violently, and before I could think, I clamped a hand over my mouth and bolted from the couch. Richard was right behind me as I raced to the nearest bathroom. I barely made it in time, collapsing in front of the toilet as my stomach emptied its contents with brutal force. The sound of my retching filled the small space, and tears sprang to my eyes from the intensity of it. Richard knelt beside me, his hand rubbing soot

Ava's Pov As I walked out of the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking about how this could have happened. Pregnant. Again. My hand instinctively went to the scar from my last miscarriage. That pregnancy wasn’t really mine—I had been reborn into this body, carrying the trauma of being raped. But this child, the one growing inside me now, was different. It was mine and Richard's, conceived in love The thought made my heart ache with fear. Could I handle this? Could I protect this life? Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed the van screeching to a halt in front of me until three masked men jumped out, surrounding me before I could react. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling. They didn’t answer, only moved in closer. Panic surged through me. Before I could scream, they grabbed me, lifting me off the ground and shoving me into the van. My cries for help were cut off as they sealed my mouth with tape and tied my hands. Inside the van, I struggled against the rop

Ava’s POV How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Time had lost all meaning in this hellish place. The darkness was absolute, a suffocating blanket that pressed in on me from all sides, erasing the edges of my reality. The only indication that time was passing at all was the faint, muffled clink of the metal tray as food was slid through the slot in the door—once a day, or at least, I thought it was once a day. Even that was uncertain. I sat in the corner of the cold, damp room, my back pressed against the rough concrete wall. My legs were pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around my knees as I tried to keep warm. The thin, ragged dress I wore did little to protect me from the chill that seeped through the stone floor. My hair hung in limp, dirty strands around my face, a far cry from the carefully styled locks I once took pride in. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bathed. The smell of sweat and fear clung to me, mingling with the stale odor of the room, a smell I

Ava's POV I heard the chaos outside long before I saw it—shouting, the crack of gunfire, the unmistakable sounds of a battle raging just beyond these walls. My heart pounded in my chest, the rapid thumping almost drowning out the noises. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to move, every muscle tensed with fear. But then I saw it. The door to my dark prison was ajar, left open by someone in their haste to join the fight. This was my chance. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my unborn child pressing against my lungs. The pregnancy was making every movement a struggle, but I couldn’t afford to hesitate. I had to move. I had to get out of here. Carefully, I slid out of the small cot I’d been confined to, my legs shaking as I stood. The building was vast, and the hallways stretched endlessly in both directions, dimly lit and ominous. I didn’t know which way led to freedom, but staying here meant certain death. I had to try. I clutched my belly with one hand, the o

I held my newborn son close, feeling the weight of him in my arms. The doctors had congratulated me, saying both Ava and the baby had made it through the emergency C-section, but Ava was still in a coma. I looked down at him—he had her curly hair, her high cheekbones. The resemblance was so strong that it tugged at something deep inside me. His tiny hand reached up, his fingers curling around mine as he tried to bring them to his mouth. “Hey, little man,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. He squirmed, his small body wiggling in my grasp. There was a life in him, a spark that reminded me so much of Ava. As I stood there, lost in the moment, I heard the sound of small footsteps approaching. I turned just in time to see Tommy rush into the room, his face lit with curiosity and excitement. Behind him were his grandparents, giving me a nod as they let Tommy run ahead. “Papa!” Tommy’s voice was full of energy as he reached me. His eyes were wide as he looked at the baby