You Hit My Heart by Kylie Stanford

Chapter 1969: I Will Always Be By Your Side

Joyce was overwhelmed by the sudden onset of labor pains, shaking uncontrollably as waves of intense pain washed over her, far more severe than she had anticipated, her breath growing fainter with each passing moment.

She knew she couldn't wait any longer; she had to get to the hospital immediately. And in this moment, the only person she could rely on was Grayson. Clutching his hand tightly, her palms slick with sweat, she gazed at him earnestly.

"Please," she implored.

She had never bowed her head to ask for help before, but for the sake of her children, she chose to speak up. And with those two simple words, "please help," Clint's hardened resolve finally cracked. Unable to bear seeing her in pain, he relented. "Alright, I will take you to the hospital." S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

As the "Nightengale" helicopter soared into the sky once more, its course altered towards the warlord hospital, they arrived within 10 minutes. Joyce, now curled up in the back seat, clung to herself in agony. Clint gently wiped the sweat from her brow with a tissue, his gaze complex as he looked down at her. Just moments ago, he had contacted the control tower at the warlord hospital via a third-party radio, securing a spot on the emergency helicopter landing platform atop the hospital.

As the "Nightengale" helicopter touched down, medical staff were already waiting with a stretcher. Clint personally carried Joyce off the helicopter, his hand pausing briefly as he set her down on the stretcher. There was a moment of hesitation, a touch of reluctance, before he swiftly composed himself.

At this moment, Joyce was extremely weak, her eyelids heavy and hard to keep open. With great effort, she whispered, "Thank you." Clint's thin lips moved slightly, his expression even more complex. Thank him for what? He was only using her for his own gain.

Against his own emotions, he turned and boarded the helicopter, leaving her with a cold parting remark. "Joyce, we will meet again."

Not daring to linger, not out of fear of exposure, but of regretting missed opportunities, he took off once more in the "Nightengale" helicopter, the thunderous roar of the blades and the gusts of wind from the propellers tossing Joyce's long hair in the air.

the helicopter, she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she was temporarily safe. The relentless waves of

had initially received a message about an emergency pregnant woman to be airlifted, but they had no idea it was Joyce. Only now did they realize, to their astonishment, that it was the Lady

they could not afford any mistakes. Urgently, they called out to her, "Lady General, hold on, we will take you to the delivery room shortly." Pale-faced, Joyce weakly nodded. As she was transported downstairs, the jostling journey made her even more dizzy, the pain clouding her senses. This was

her concerns deepened. Exhausted beyond measure, she was forced to close her eyes. Just as they reached the door of the delivery room, she felt a warm hand clasping hers. Trying to open her eyes, she found herself too weak. Then, a familiar and gentle

to open her eyes. As her gaze met Luther's impeccably chiseled features, his face exuding endless tenderness, a

was Joyce who had brought him to the hospital. But upon awakening, she was nowhere to be found. Inquiring with the doctor,

the security at home, only to find the surveillance

brought a pregnant woman, Joyce, to the hospital. Hastening

spare, he set aside his concerns for now; the

home to Dr. Jocelyn," Joyce

to give birth, facing danger, yet still thinking of him.

I will accompany you into the

exhaustion, uttering a

room door opened, Joyce was wheeled inside. The doctors and midwives helped Luther put on sterile clothing before allowing him to enter the

is weak, prepare for a cesarean section. Why hasn't the fetal

connect the fetal

the oxygen? Hurry, get the General some oxygen!" Dr.

after all, the General was no ordinary person.

Luther held Joyce's hand tightly, offering words of