Chapter 243
ASHAL
The living room has never felt this alive. It hums with soft laughter, overlapping conversations, the quiet creak of leather as people shift on seats that have hosted far more formal gatherings than this. Tonight, the space feels different: warmer, looser, almost... normal.
My son is at the center of it all.
I sit back on the couch, one arm resting along the backrest, the other loosely draped across my lap as I watch my mother cradle him like he’s something sacred. Her movements are careful and very protective, like she’s afraid he might slip through her fingers if she holds him too loosely.
"He has your nose," she murmurs, brushing her thumb gently over his cheek.
"No, he doesn’t," Maddi says from beside me, leaning forward slightly, her voice laced with quiet amusement. "That’s definitely from my side of the family."
I glance at her briefly.
She’s close enough that our shoulders touch. Her hand rests on her thigh, fingers curled slightly, as if she’s resisting the urge to reach out for the baby again. There’s something soft about her right now. Something almost domestic.
We look like a family. The thought lands heavier than I expect.
Across the room, Ashton leans against the armchair, swirling a drink in his hand as he watches the baby with a faint smile. Ashley is crouched in front of my mother, snapping pictures like he’s documenting a rare event, while Asher stands nearby, arms folded, observing everything with that calm, unreadable expression of his.
For once, no one is arguing. It feels peaceful.
Maddi’s mother emerges from the kitchen then, moving carefully, one hand steadying herself against the wall as she carries a bottle. The faint clink of glass draws everyone’s attention.
"Right on cue," she says with a small smile, holding the bottle out. "He must be hungry."
As if on command, my son lets out a sharp cry. The high-pitched sound cuts through the room instantly. My chest tightens. I’ll never get used to his cries. They hurt my soul.
"Here," my mother says quickly, taking the bottle from her. "Give him to me." She adjusts him in her arms, guiding the bottle to his lips with practiced ease.
For a moment, everything settles. Then she freezes. The bottle hovers midair and the more she looks at it, the more her expression changes.
"What... is this?" she asks slowly.
The shift in her tone is immediate and unmistakable. The room goes quiet. Father and Mr. Dunn even pause from their hushed conversation by the fireplace to stare at the drama about to unfold.
Maddi straightens beside me. "What do you mean?" she asks carefully.
My mother pulls the bottle back slightly, staring at it like it’s something foreign.
"This isn’t formula," she says, her voice tightening. "Is this... breastmilk?"
Silence drops over the room like a curtain. The baby fusses in her arms, his cries picking up again, but no one moves.
Maddi’s mother clears her throat. "Yes, it is."
My mother looks up sharply. "Breastmilk? From where?"
There’s something in her eyes now, something disdainful and angry. "Please tell me you didn’t get this from one of those... online markets. People may sell anything and everything these days but that doesn’t mean you blindly trust..."
"We didn’t," Maddi cuts in quickly, sitting up straighter. "It’s from a wet nurse. Someone we know. A close family relative."
I turn my head slowly to look at her. A wet nurse? The words echo in my head. Something about it feels... off. Why didn’t they get my approval for this first?
My mother’s gaze snaps to me. "Ashal? Did you approve this?"
I open my mouth and then it clicks. Breastmilk. Someone we know. A close family relative. Of course, there is no wet nurse. The realization lands quietly, but it hits hard. This has got to be Olivia’s breastmilk and what better way to let her feed our baby than by claiming it’s from an unnamed wet nurse.
A strange mix of emotions stirs in my chest. Relief first for demystifying it, then disappointment for them not consulting me first like we agreed. They didn’t tell me, not even Maddi bothered to loop me in.
They made this decision without me. I should feel angry, and I do, somewhere beneath the surface. But right now, with my son crying in my mother’s arms and the tension in the room thick enough to choke on, I push it aside.
"Yes," I lie calmly. "I’m aware."
Maddi glances at me quickly but I don’t look at her.
"Then you should have said something," my mother snaps, her grip tightening slightly on the bottle. "This is not a small decision, Ashal. You don’t just feed a child from some unknown source..."
"It’s not from an unknown source, mother. Maddi clearly told you. Now, please feed my son before he gets a headache. He’s very hungry."
As if to prove my point, my son lets out another sharp cry.
"Please feed him," I press but my mother doesn’t move. Instead, she sets the bottle aside.
"I want to meet this wet nurse," she says firmly. "I need to know exactly where this milk is coming from."
"Mum—" Asher starts.
"No," she cuts him off. "I won’t compromise on this." She turns toward the kitchen and calls out to a staff. "Prepare the formula I brought for the baby. Hurry up."
Maddi’s mother steps forward, her brows knitting together. "Mrs. Rollins, that’s not necessary..."
"I think it is," my mother replies, her tone polite but firm in a way that isn’t polite at all. "I don’t know what you’ve been feeding him these past few days but over here, we don’t take such risks with family. He’ll have the formula until I vet this wet nurse of yours."
The room shifts. The warmth from earlier drains out, replaced by something brittle and uncomfortable. Mrs. Dunn slowly clenches her teeth, feeling disrespected.
Then Maddi stands up and reaches for the baby. "I’ll take him."
My mother pulls back slightly. "Let’s wait for the formula..."
"He’s crying a lot and his food is right there." Maddi snaps. "Just give him to me and I’ll feed him. There’s no need to punish him by delaying this."
"He won’t die for waiting another five minutes, Madeline. I’ve raised four sons so you can trust me on that."
"Well, this is my son and I’ll call the shots here."
"No, he’s not! He’s Ashal and your sister’s son. Know your place." Mother snarls.
"I am his mother now!"
"ENOUGH" I yell at them. Everyone turns to me, including the fuming women.
I stand, crossing the room in a few strides. Gently but firmly, I take my son from my mother’s arms. His cries spike for a second before I pass him to Maddi. Then I pick up the bottle and hand it to her.
"Feed him, please."
She doesn’t hesitate. The moment the bottle touches his lips, my baby latches on for dear life. The crying stops just like that, replaced by gurgling sounds.
The silence that follows is heavy. I take my mother’s hand.
"Come with me,"
She doesn’t resist as I steer her away.
***
The hallway is quieter. The distance from the living room dulls the tension slightly, but I can still feel it clinging to me. I turn sharply to face her.
"Mum, what was that? You need to take a breath."
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Ashal, I’m just trying to protect him." Her voice is tinged with emotion. "He’s my first grandson and I was just concerned about him being fed with a stranger’s milk. How could you be comfortable with that arrangement?"
"Look mother, I know you love the baby, but so does everyone else in that room. No one in there loves Ashal Jnr any less, nor do they mean him any harm. The wet nurse was not a careless decision. I did the necessary checks and approved it for the health of my son. You know I wouldn’t allow anything harmful near my son. You have to trust that."
Her lips press together.
"But why didn’t you tell me? Why wasn’t I included in this decision?"
The question hangs between us. I exhale slowly. "I respect your place as one of his grandmothers but I simply can’t run everything by you. Most of the decisions regarding the baby are for me and Maddi to decide, because we are his parents."
Her expression shifts slightly and I touch her shoulder to drive home my point.
"She’s his mother," I emphasize. "Maddi is my son’s mother and I need you to accept that and stop disrespecting or challenging her place. She deserves to be respected as such, especially by you."
My mother looks away, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I didn’t mean to disrespect her."
"I know but that’s how it came across."
She sniffles and nods. "I’ll apologize to everyone for my behavior."
Relief floods my chest. "Good."
"But Ashal, can you really not let us rotate custody of the baby on a monthly basis? Seeing him like this makes me feel like an outsider."
"It’s not practical. I can’t have him shuttling between homes and hands every 30 days. He needs stability. The Dunns’ home is where he’ll be raised for now."
She tries to protest further, hesitates at the firm look in my eyes then nods again.
"Alright but I am planning his first birthday. You won’t deprive me of that."
I laugh as we return to the living room. When we return, the atmosphere is still tense, but quieter now.
Maddi is seated, almost done feeding the baby. He’s calm and enjoying his food. Her head snaps in our direction as mother walks towards her to crouch by her side.
"I’m sorry for being a handful earlier. I didn’t mean to challenge you. You’re his mother and you know best. I promise that won’t happen again."
Maddi smiles softly. "Thank you for the apology."
She addresses Mrs. Dunn next and they share a hug and friendly laughter. Slowly, the tension eases and the cheer of the evening picks itself back up.
But something inside me has shifted and it clings to me, making laughter hard.
Later, my brothers and I stroll by the pool where the air feels cooler. The city stretches out beyond the estate, distant and indifferent.
Asher jams both hands in his pocket. He has been tensed all evening we all know why. "We need to set the date for the general family meeting. It’s time to stop stalling."
The weight of it settles over us instantly. I think we all have had time to reflect on the Rollins-Dean situation, to imagine how much our lives will be altered if we uncover ugly truths in the course of this meeting. Yet, none of us can say he is prepared for the aftermath. It still scares us to be honest. That’s why we’ve been dragging this out.
Ashley huffs out a breath. "Are we sure we want to know? Are we sure we can’t just move on with our lives, having both fathers present in their own capacities rather than opening up a can of worms?"
I’ve thought about that too, wondered if that wouldn’t be the easiest way to deal with this. But easy isn’t always healthy. I have scars of my own that need healing. I still can’t look Dean in the eye because of how much I silently loathe him for ruining my life by passing on a stupid sickness.
I know rehashing the past will not cure me but it just might be therapeutic anyway.
"Are we sure we don’t want to know what happened to our biological mother?" Ashton blurts out. "Are we sure we are comfortable blotting her out of our memories? Are we sure we don’t want to know how Brett adopted us?" He rakes a hand through his hair. "We are not kids anymore, alright. The truth might be scary but at the end of the day, we have a responsibility to arm ourselves with all the facts. That’s the only way we can make an informed decision about our future."
"He’s right." Asher concurs. "We’re adults. It’s up to us to decide what we do with what we learn. Forgiveness is also a choice." He holds Ashton’s gaze as he says this, then drifts to mine. "It may be hard at first but we can still decide to forgive and keep the peace. There’s a baby in the family now and the reason he can’t stay in the mansion is because of the chaos simmering here. With peace on all fronts, none of us will be forced to raise our kids outside the roof we sleep under."
A thin stretch of silence follows. And then I add. "Yes, we’re adults now. It means we can make our decisions free from outside influences. We may be quadruplets but, in this situation, we all have the right to choose how we walk away from that meeting. Not everything has to be unanimous because our personal experiences aren’t. Do what feels right for you; forgive or forget."
The silence that follows now is almost palpable. We pick a date for the meeting. Tension starts to build up until Ashley speaks.
"Nice move back there by the way. I love how you stood up for Maddi. Mother was way out of line."
I shrug. "It needed to be done."
A smirk creeps onto his face. "And I peeked a little hand-holding between you two? Is the love train back on track?"
I force a small smile after recalling Maddi and the milk situation. "Something like that."
It shouldn’t hurt that much that she kept it from me but somehow, I can’t seem to shake it off. I blank out as Ashton shares his plans for the victims of our family’s actions. Instead, I continue to sip my drink, hoping to get a little drunk to dull the disappointment. I’m starting to wonder if I can trust Maddi’s family with my son.
I understand why they’d lie about Olivia but I didn’t expect them to keep anything regarding my baby from me. How am I supposed to sleep well at night if I am constantly worried that they may be keeping something vital from me?
My brothers clear their throat and start to leave. I find it confusing at first. What did I miss? Then I follow Ashley’s eyes and find Maddi is walking toward us, towards me.
My jaw tightens.
***
My brothers are all back inside the house. Maddi steps up to me and relieves me of the glass in my hand.
"The baby’s asleep now. Your mother is holding him" she says softly.
I simply nod.
"We’ll be heading out soon."
"Mhmm."
"Thank you for earlier, for speaking with your mother."
I don’t respond. She steps closer. "Ashal..."
I keep my gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.
"I’m sorry," she says. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the wet nurse. I should have told you. It just... slipped my mind."
That does it. I look at her. "Slipped your mind?" I repeat quietly.
Her expression falters.
"You made me look like a fool in front of my family. You made me lie to my mother, for you."
"I didn’t mean..."
"I know what you meant," I cut in. "Or rather, what that means. You didn’t think I needed to know. Maddi, I entrusted our son to you on the condition that you keep nothing from me. I am his father and I have to find out with the rest of my family that my baby is taking breastmilk from a woman I don’t know?"
"That’s not true..."
"Then what is?"
She swallows. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again." She leans in and grabs my hands but I move away. "Ashal, please, don’t." She tugs at my sleeve and I halt in my track. "Please, forgive me."
As soon as I turn my head, her lips brush my cheek.
"No more lies."
She nods quickly. "No more lies."
I study her for a moment. Then I pull her in and kiss her hard. She melts into it instantly, like she’s been waiting for it all night. She moans softly, tilting her head back to allow my tongue wade her mouth. When we pull back, her breath is uneven.
"What’s her name?"
She blinks up at me. "What?"
"The wet nurse. What’s her name?"
Her face first drains of color. "Um...it’s Li...Hannah. Her name’s Hannah."
The first mention of Li catches my interest. And just like that, she affirms my suspicion. The wet nurse is indeed Liv, my baby’s biological mother.
Olivia.