She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 872

"You're amazing, sweetheart. You're doing so well..."

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere..."

Loyce looked at him, taking in his intensely focused expression and the bottomless worry and heartache in his eyes. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

At the absolute peak of the pain, when she felt herself slipping from consciousness, she heard his fierce whisper by her ear:

"Listen to me, Loyce. If anything happens to you, I'll take this baby and follow you straight to hell."

The sheer absurdity of the threat made her snap her eyes open and glare at him. "Nothing's going to happen to me!"

He looked back at her, his eyes red-rimmed, and managed a broken smile.

In that exact moment, a massive contraction ripped through her. Adjusting her breathing, she gave one final, agonizing push. With a sharp cry...

A baby's wail pierced the sterile air of the delivery room.

The medical team immediately took the baby to get cleaned up. The midwife cheerfully announced, "Congratulations, it's a healthy boy!"

Lucian completely ignored the announcement. He simply leaned over, pressing his forehead against Loyce's, clinging to her hand. Witnessing the immense suffering she had just endured left him shattered.

"I'm never letting you do this again," he breathed, still shaken—not by the graphic nature of the birth, but by the sheer terror of losing her.

Loyce gave a tired, fond smile. "Alright. Now go hold your son."

When Lucian finally picked up the tiny, swaddled bundle, looking down at a miniature version of himself, the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over.

"Hi," he whispered, his voice cracking entirely. "I'm your dad."

The little guy squirmed, let out a tiny yawn, and promptly went back to sleep.

Lucian laughed.

That smile was softer and warmer than the sunlight pouring through the window.

He carried the baby back to Loyce, gently laying him beside her pillow.

Loyce turned her head, gazing at the fragile life beside her, her eyes welling with tears.

"He looks like you," she murmured.

Lucian shook his head. "He looks like you. That's why he's handsome."

Loyce smiled, reaching out to stroke the baby's soft cheek.

"What's his name?" she asked. "We debated it for months without picking one. He's here now. Did you finally decide?"

Lucian thought for a moment before answering seriously, "Noah."

Loyce paused.

The room fell silent, stunned by his blunt declaration. Yet, after the initial shock, they understood his bordering-on-obsessive devotion. Childbirth was terrifyingly unpredictable. Too many wealthy, powerful men had lost their wives to sudden hemorrhages or embolisms. The mere thought of those statistics was enough to terrify Lucian; he absolutely refused to gamble with her life.

Zeke opened his mouth to argue but, meeting his son's uncompromising glare, simply sighed and let it go.

Marcella stepped up to the bed, taking Loyce's hand with tearful eyes. "You found a good man, honey."

Loyce smiled. "I did."

Gordon remained quiet for a long moment before tapping his cane against the floor. "Alright, you've got guts! Better than my own sons."

The Lonsdale men exchanged exasperated looks at being randomly targeted.

Hank was still reeling from the vasectomy comment. "Wait, are you seriously sure? What if you want a daughter down the line?"

"If we want a daughter, we'll adopt," Lucian replied flatly. "Or I'll just spoil whatever kid you manage to have."

"What does this have to do with me!" Hank bristled. "I don't even know where my own life is going right now!"

Laughter broke out across the room.

Only Loyce looked thoughtful. Recently, Giselle Turner had sent her a message. She and her child were moving back home soon.

And Hank's daughter was, indeed, a beautiful, cherubic little girl.