The Billionaire Twins Need A New Mommy! novel Chapter 432

Chapter 432: Dear Lola

[Flashback]

The night was quiet, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock and the low hum of the television left running. The lamp beside Loren’s bed cast a soft, amber glow that made the edges of the room blur into shadow.

She sat upright with a tray table over her lap, a piece of stationery before her, and a trembling pen in her hand. The ink had long since dried on the first paragraph of the letter, but she couldn’t bring herself to continue.

Every word she wrote felt like carving open an old wound.

Her throat tightened, and each swallow scraped like splinters. The weight of unspoken truths pressed heavily on her chest, making it hard to breathe. But she couldn’t leave this world without saying something.

Lola deserved that much clarity, even if it came too late.

Her gaze drifted toward the smaller bed near the television. The little girl was fast asleep, her hair messy from play, the cartoon still flickering soundlessly across the screen.

Loren whispered to herself, "You can’t let her wonder all these whys for the rest of her life. She needs to know."

She looked back at the unfinished letter. The edges of the paper were already damp with tears. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she steadied her hand and forced herself to keep writing, even as the words blurred.

The pain she felt wasn’t for herself anymore; it was for that child. For Lola, who had unknowingly inherited the weight of the sins committed by the adults around her.

Tears rolled down Loren’s cheeks as she wrote, one after another, until her vision turned watery.

Her mind drifted to the beginning—the first time she held baby Lola in her arms. How that tiny fist had clutched her finger like it was the only thing keeping her to life. She remembered the way those small eyes had reflected innocence and warmth, and how that moment alone had made her believe she could change.

From that day on, Loren had fought to keep the darkness away. She told herself she could rewrite her story through motherhood, even if that motherhood was born of deceit.

Lola was never truly hers, nor even Lawrence’s. But none of that mattered anymore. Loving Lola came naturally.

Even when Lawrence was distant and consumed by another woman, Loren found solace in the laughter of that little girl. A single giggle from Lola was enough to brighten the bleakest day. Her world had been full of storms, but Lola’s smile was her shelter.

She remembered the milestones: the first laugh, the first steps, the first time Lola said Mama. Every memory etched itself into her heart like sunlight through a window. And Loren cherished them all.

Had she not been diagnosed, she would have spent the rest of her life pretending everything was fine. She would have gone on being "Mom," protecting that illusion for as long as she could.

But time had caught up with her. The peace she’d fought so hard to maintain was crumbling. The doctors had made it clear that her days were numbered.

And so, she wrote this letter, knowing that one day, Lola would read it.

That thought alone was unbearable.

Loren sniffed hard and pressed her shaking hand against her lips to muffle a sob. When she finally finished writing, she folded the letter carefully and placed it on the bedside table, next to a small framed photo of the two of them smiling in front of the old house.

Her gaze then wandered back to Lola.

Forcing herself to move, Loren rose from the bed. Every step felt heavier than the last. She knelt beside the smaller bed and brushed a strand of hair away from the little girl’s face.

Her heart clenched.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I really am sorry, princess."

Dear Lola,

If you’re reading this, then you’ve found the truth.

This letter isn’t written to make excuses. Whatever you’re feeling right now—rage, pain, confusion, disappointment—I know I deserve all of it. Every single ache, every tear I caused, is a weight that belongs to me. There is nothing I could ever write here that would make the hurt disappear.

I’ve made mistakes... and even in the afterlife, I will regret dragging you into this mess I created.

When I acted out of pain, I wanted to hurt the people who hurt me. I wanted them to feel what I felt, to suffer as I had suffered. But in doing so, I ignored the one thing that mattered most—there was an innocent life caught in the middle of my destruction.

Not just you, but my child as well.

My actions were selfish. I only realized that selfishness the day your tiny hand held mine. When your little fingers wrapped around me and your innocent eyes looked up into mine, I saw myself reflected there—terrified, hopeful, undeserving. That was when I knew how wrong I had been.

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