The Billionaire Twins Need A New Mommy! - Chapter 426

Chapter 426: Why Did You Open Your Eyes
Melissa’s entire body trembled; her hand clamped over her mouth as though holding in a scream. Her back pressed hard against the wall at the end of the hallway, the cool surface biting through her clothes. Her wide, red eyes stared blankly ahead.

She had followed Atlas. She only wanted to know what he was doing here. But instead, she had stepped on a landmine—a landmine that would detonate the moment she lifted her foot.

What… what does that mean?

Her mind raced, a hurricane of confusion in her heart, even though she had heard every word clearly.

Lola is… Mom is not my mom? But my mother was… Loren Albert?

How could anyone process that?

All her life, Melissa recognized Jasmine as her mother—the woman who raised her, scolded her, and guided her through every misstep. She loved Jasmine from the bottom of her heart. Her mother wasn’t perfect, but she was there. She was good, in her own way. Jasmine might have been strict, might have pushed Melissa too hard, but Melissa had always understood that it came from a place of love… or so she thought.

Now, the pieces fit together.

At last, she understood the reason Jasmine kept pushing her to be perfect—why she demanded Melissa to outshine everyone, to be flawless, to never falter.

It was because Jasmine knew.

She knew that Melissa wasn’t Lawrence’s daughter. But as it turns out, her daughter was Lola and not her.

Her lips quivered, a tear spilling down her cheek before she even noticed it. Anger began to burn within her. The kind of anger she had never felt before.

Why?

Even if Jasmine had raised her with care, Melissa had still lived her entire life branded with a title she never deserved: the mistress’s daughter. That ugly title clung to her like a curse, like a mark she could never wash off. It was the reason the women in the Lancaster family circles mocked her behind their painted smiles. It was why she had to work twice as hard, fight twice as fiercely, just to earn a sliver of respect.

And now, after all those years, she finally understood.

“It’s all her fault,” Melissa muttered under her breath, voice shaking. “It’s her who ruined my life…”

The words left her lips in a whisper, but they cut through the silence like a blade.

When Melissa returned to her father’s ward, she was quieter than ever. She sat by his bedside, her small hands clutching his frail one, eyes locked on the face she had missed so much.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “People played God with my life—with ours.”

She brushed a strand of hair off her face and looked at him again, guilt and sorrow swirling in her chest.

If Jasmine hadn’t stepped into their lives, things would’ve been different. She would’ve been the rightful heiress—the Young-Albert daughter—respected, adored, and envied. Instead, she had grown up living in the shadow of a lie.

Even Lola, with all her temper and pride, had still been treated like a real Young. People looked at her with admiration, sympathy even. But Melissa? She was just “the other daughter.” The one born from scandal. The one everyone whispered about.

Had she not been forced to become what she was, those same people would have trampled her.

And now, after everything, everyone saw Lola as the victim, while Melissa was painted as the villain.

Her jaw tightened. She squeezed her father’s hand harder, the anger threatening to consume her.

“What should I do, Dad?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m so angry… I don’t know what to do.”

Her eyes filled with tears, falling one after another onto his hand. But then, something moved.

Her breath hitched as she felt a faint twitch beneath her palm. She froze, staring down in disbelief.

“Dad?” she called softly. Her eyes widened as Lawrence’s fingers curled faintly against hers.

Then, slowly, his eyelids fluttered.

“Dad?!” she cried, leaning over him, heart pounding.

Lawrence’s lashes lifted slowly, his unfocused gaze drifting before it landed on her.

All the noise in Melissa’s head vanished at that second. Her thoughts went blank, her anger drowned out by an overwhelming rush of relief.

“Dad…” she sobbed, her lips breaking into a trembling smile as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. “You’re awake.”

*****

“Hmm?” Jasmine paused mid-step as she caught sight of several nurses rushing past her. They were heading down the hallway in a hurry. Her eyes narrowed when she realized the direction they were going.

That hallway.

That was where Lawrence’s ward was.

Jasmine’s body froze. For a heartbeat, her thoughts stopped entirely. And then, before she knew it, her feet were moving. She hurried down the hall, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

Her heart pounded as she reached the door, where doctors and nurses were already crowding around the bed.

What’s going on? Did he—

Is he dead?

The thought struck her like lightning.

She stretched her neck to see, but the medical staff blocked her view. Panic crawled up her throat. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for Melissa, but she couldn’t find her.

Slowly and carefully, she stepped inside.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice steady but strained. Everyone turned toward her. “Did something happen to my husband?”

Her tone carried all the concern expected of a devoted wife, but deep down, what she truly wanted to hear was simple:

“I’m sorry.”

That would have been mercy. That would have been freedom. But instead…

“Madam Young,” one of the nurses said with a bright, relieved smile. “The patient has regained consciousness.”

The words struck her like a knife straight to her throat. Jasmine’s heart plummeted. She stood motionless, her pale face turning even whiter.

A nurse approached gently and took her arm. “Please, come closer. He’s awake.”

Numb, Jasmine let herself be led forward as the doctors stepped aside.

And there he was.

Lawrence Young—her husband—lying on the bed with his eyes half-open, blinking faintly. And beside him was Melissa, smiling through her tears.

“Mom,” Melissa turned to her with watery eyes, her voice soft. “Dad’s awake. He’s fine. My blood saved him.”

Jasmine stared blankly.

No… no, this can’t be happening.

Her body trembled. Though the doctors assured her he was out of danger, her entire being screamed that this was the worst possible outcome.

“The patient won’t be able to speak for a while,” the doctor explained kindly. “But the fact that he’s conscious is already a very good sign. He’s past the critical stage.”

Jasmine barely heard him as the words floated around her like meaningless noise.

All she could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

Lawrence was alive.

Alive… and bound to remember everything.

Still, she forced a smile, pretending to be the relieved wife everyone expected her to be. She rushed to his side, her eyes glistening with tears that weren’t entirely fake. Her shaking hands reached for his, her sobs echoing softly.

But deep down, beneath the trembling act of a devoted wife, something darker filled her heart and soul.

Why… she thought bitterly, clutching his hand tighter.

Why did you still open your damn eyes?

The tears that slid down her cheeks weren’t tears of joy. They were tears of rage and despair.

What Jasmine didn’t realize, however, was that while she wept, pretending to be broken with relief, Melissa’s gaze had already hardened. The daughter she once controlled—the girl who once sought her approval—was staring at her now with eyes colder than ice.