Page 203 of Falling for the Wife

I made sure Gino didn’t tell me the gender of the baby. I thought it safe that way because I would be less attached. It was harder to picture what it looked like if I didn’t know its gender.

While I was left with my own thoughts, Gino busied himself by making sure the jet was ready to depart the Milan-Malpensa airport to take me directly to Rome. It was the fastest ride that could get me there.

The entire time during the short flight, I felt as though the one hour and twenty minute trip was a death sentence. Each second that ticked away, I was sick with worry, so much so that I began to pray. It was bizarre that I couldn’t recall the last time I had. I guessed that was how it was the moment a man became a parent. Of course, I wasn’t sure I could consider myself one since I merely “fathered” the baby, but I loved that baby without even having met him or her. It was difficult to explain, but it was as simple as that.

From the airport to the hospital, I was bombarded with all sorts of emotions, and one fear stood out the most—knowing well enough that nothing great could come out of a baby being admitted to the hospital after being birthed almost two months ago. Kimberly wasn’t the type to seek help, most especially coming from me. Her calling to ask for help had conveyed exactly how delicate the situation was.

And just as I had feared … Well, it was actually far worse than I had feared. I reached the children’s hospital and sought out Kimberly, and the moment I reached the floor, I saw the disheveled state she was in. I barely saw Anton, who was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. My heart dropped at the sight of how exhausted she looked.

She had bloodshot eyes, as if she had been in a constant state of tears. Her hair was all over the place, and she was as pale as ever. She was a far cry from those mothers I had encountered looking well rested and full of smiles weeks after birth.

“Kimberly,” I uttered her name alone, but it carried so much more.

Her tear-stained face lifted to take in the sight of me with her eyes snapping wide open before she almost ran towards where I stood.

“Luca, thank heavens you’re here! I need your help. No! The baby needs your help.Weneed your help. I didn’t think it’d happen. Maybe it was so stupid of me, but I didn’t really put it into the equation. I should have been more watchful to the signs … I could have been more vigilant.”

She was a blabbering mess before she broke down into tears again, obviously blaming herself for what had happened. I had to hold myself down from reaching out to her, holding her, and making sure she was fine. It was inappropriate to do it here, knowing very well her husband was most likely watching our exchange. It was something I should vanish from my thoughts. It was over. She wasn’t mine. The wedding band on her finger was an obvious indication of that.

Clearing my throat, I told myself it was not the time to think about her and what she was feeling at the moment. “What’s wrong with the baby, Kim?”

“Sickle cell disease runs in my family. I knew the risks, but I took a chance and thought maybe, just maybe, it would skip with my baby. But I was wrong, so very wrong in assuming that.

“Please save my baby…” she begged, choking as she did so. “I know you must be mad at me, and rightfully so, but I’m asking for you to put everything aside to save our son. His blood is O negative, but I’m A negative. That leaves me with you. That’s your blood type, isn’t it?”

“Don’t insult me, Kim. This is my child, too. I’d give up my life right now just to save his, so don’t give me this crap.”

Son. My baby was a boy.

My heart swelled at the thought of it, but it saddened me that he was barely born, and he had to deal with this hereditary condition. Sickle cell. I had no idea what that was. I had heard of it yet had no clue how vastly it could affect him.

Her lips wobbled, seeming fragile as she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

There were so many things that could have been said, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to argue or bicker about things that meant so little at this moment. Our son was the priority. Not her, nor us.

“What do I need to do?” I said, not wanting to waste precious time in chatter.

“The doctor will brief you if you … if you’re willing to do the blood transfusion, that is.”

Why did she doubt my willingness to help? For fuck’s sake, this wasmy son! Did she not understand what that meant to me? Apparently not.

“Let the doctor know I’m here, and I want to speak to him directly. I want to inquire about who can deliver the very best medical care for my son.” The possessiveness was evident, and it left me all the more protective of him.

Kimberly rushed off to inform the nurse to have someone dispatched to get the doctor who was assigned to our baby. By the looks of it, they weren’t really being given the priority since the nurses barely moved to do what she had asked. I didn’t like to extend my power and wealth, but this was an exception.

Using a commanding tone, I efficiently and succinctly stated that I needed specialists that took extensive study about the disease and also had long-term expertise about the condition. I needed all hands and minds on deck that would solely focus on my son and finding him a cure…or the next best thing that was out there.

Mostly everyone in my country knew about me and my family, and noting from the medical staff’s reaction, they very well knew what I meant. In a flash, everyone scrambled to make sure everything I had requested was fulfilled.

“How do you do that?” Kimberly asked, amazed.

“Easy,” I replied. “Being a di Medici in this country literally means everything.”

“Right,” was all she said.

Standing next to her, I threw her a quick glance, wanting and needing to know more about our baby.

“What’s his name?”