Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 225

The door opens, rousing me, and Grace enters. “Hello, darling,” she whispers, her face pale—devoid of

makeup. She looks as tired and drained as I feel.

“Mom.” I’m too weary to stand.

“I’m just checking in, as I’m leaving to get some sleep. Carrick is here to watch over Mia.”

“How is she?”

“She’s okay. Angry. Still suffering from the effects of the drugs. Trying to sleep. Ana?”

“No change.”

Grace picks up Ana’s medical chart from the end of her bed and scans the notes. Her eyes widen and

she gasps. “She’s pregnant!”

I nod, too shattered and anxious to do anything else.

“Oh, Christian, that’s wonderful news. Congratulations.” She steps forward and grasps my shoulder.

“Thanks, Mom. It’s early days.” I think.

“I understand. Couples usually announce at twelve weeks. Darling, you’re exhausted. Go home and

sleep.”

I shake my head. “I’ll sleep when Ana wakes.”

She presses her lips together but doesn’t comment, and bending down she kisses my head. “She’ll

wake, Christian. Just give her a little time. Try and get some sleep.”

“Bye, Mom.”

She ruffles my hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She exits as quietly as she arrived, leaving me more

bereft than ever.

Just to torture myself, and also to stay awake, I replay my misdemeanors of the last couple of days.

I’ve been an asshole.

About the baby.

Seeing Elena.

Not apologizing. RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

And to cap it all, I believed Ana…believed her when she said she was leaving me.

My eyes droop, and my head drops forward, jolting me awake.

Fuck.

I gaze at my wife, willing her to open her eyes.

Ana. Please. Come back to me. “And then I can apologize. Properly. Please, baby.” Taking her hand, I

bring it to my lips once more and kiss each knuckle. “I miss you.”

Leaning back, I close my eyes, just for a second.

Friday, September 16, 2011

I wake a moment later. Shit. How long have I slept? I check my watch—nearly three hours. Glancing

over at my wife, I see she’s still slumbering peacefully.

Except she’s not asleep. She’s unconscious.

“Come back to me, baby,” I whisper.

“Christian.”

“Dad! You startled me.”

“Sorry.” Carrick emerges from the shadows.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. I didn’t want to wake you. The nurse was just here checking Ana’s vitals. It’s all good.” He

stares down at my wife. “Grace tells me she’s carrying my grandchild.” His eyes shine in reverence as

he gazes at Ana.

“Yes. She is.”

“Congratulations, son.”

I give him a bleak smile. “She put the child and herself at risk.” I shiver, and don’t know if it’s because

the night air is cooler or because Ana could so easily be dead.

Carrick presses his lips together, his expression grave, then turns his attention to me. “You’re

exhausted. You should go home and rest.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“Christian, you should sleep.”

“No, Dad. I want to be here when she wakes up.”

“I’ll sit with her. It’s the least I can do after she saved my daughter.”

“How’s Mia?”

“She’s asleep. She was groggy, scared, and angry. It’ll be a few hours before the Rohypnol is

completely out of her system.”

“Christ.” Hyde is a sick, twisted, cocksucking son of a bitch.

“I know. I’m feeling seven kinds of foolish for relenting on her security. You warned me, but Mia is so

stubborn. If it wasn’t for Ana here…”

“We all thought Hyde was out of the picture. And my crazy, stupid wife—why didn’t she tell me?” My

unshed tears scald my throat.

“Christian, calm down,” he says, gently moving toward me. “Ana’s a remarkable young woman. She

was incredibly brave.”

“Brave and headstrong and stubborn and stupid.” My voice breaks on the last word as I fight to contain

my emotion.

But what would have happened to Mia, if not for Ana?

This is so confusing. I place my head in my hands, conflicted.

“Hey.” Dad rests his hand on my shoulder. I welcome his comforting touch. “Don’t be so hard on her, or

yourself, son. I’d better get back to your mom. It’s after three in the morning, Christian. You really

should try to sleep.”

“I thought Mom went home.”

Carrick blows out a breath in frustration. “She couldn’t leave Mia. She’s stubborn, like you.

Congratulations again on the baby. That’s some good news, in all this mess.”

I feel the blood drain from my head—I’ll never be as good a father as Carrick.

“Hey,” he says gently. “You’ve got this.”

And because I’m weary and despondent, I’m annoyed that he’s diagnosed my anxiety so precisely.

Perceptive, Dad.

“You’ll make a great father, Christian. Stop worrying. You have several months to get used to the idea.”

He pats my shoulder again. “I’ll be back later this morning.”

“Good night, Dad.” I watch him quietly close the door.

A great father, eh?

I put my head in my hands.

Right now, I just want my wife back. I don’t want to think about the baby.

I stand and stretch. It’s late. I’m stiff and sore and heartsick with worry.

Why won’t she wake up? Bending, I kiss her cheek. Her skin is soft and reassuringly warm against my

lips.

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