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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Viviana

The world becomes a blur of chaos and pain.

I can barely process what’s happening, my body overtaken by wave after wave of contractions. My breaths are shallow, ragged, as I clutch Romeo’s hand like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

“Stay with me, Viviana,” Romeo says, his voice steady but lined with panic. “Breathe, cara mia. Just breathe.”

“I am breathing!” I snap, though the words come out strangled and weak. Another contraction grips me, and I cry out, doubling over as my vision swims.

Romeo’s other hand brushes my cheek, his touch firm but gentle, grounding me. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Matteo’s clearing the roads. We’ll get there in no time.”

“Romeo,” I whisper, my voice trembling, “it’s too early.”

He crouches beside me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “It’s going to be okay,” he says firmly, his words leaving no room for doubt. “I’m not letting anything happen to you or the baby. Do you hear me?”

I nod weakly, my tears spilling over as he sweeps me into his arms, carrying me out to the waiting car. His presence, his determination—they’re the only things keeping me from falling apart completely.

The car ride is a nightmare. The roads blur outside the window, and every bump and turn are agony.

Romeo sits beside me in the back seat, his hand gripping mine, his thumb brushing soothing circles over my knuckles. He barks instructions at Matteo, his voice sharp and commanding, but when he speaks to me, his voice softens, becoming almost tender.

“You’re doing so well, Viviana,” he murmurs, his other hand brushing my hair back from my damp forehead. “We’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer.”

I don’t know how he stays so calm when I can see the fear etched into his features. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark with worry, but he doesn’t falter. He’s my rock, my anchor, and I cling to him like a lifeline.

When we arrive, things don’t move quickly enough for my liking.

The hospital looms ahead, its bright lights cutting through the night. A team of nurses rushes out to meet us as Matteo pulls up to the entrance, and before I know it, I’m being wheeled inside, Romeo never leaving my side.

“It’s too soon,” I hear myself say again, the words a broken whisper as I clutch my stomach.

“You’re in the best hands,” Romeo says, his hand never leaving mine. “Just focus on breathing. Let them take care of the rest.”

The nurses work quickly, their voices calm but urgent as they prepare me for delivery. I’m dimly aware of Romeo arguing with a doctor about staying in the room. His tone is sharp, leaving no room for negotiation, and moments later, he’s beside me again, his hand gripping mine tightly.

“You’re stuck with me,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the tension in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I want to laugh, but another contraction hits, stealing my breath and sending me into a spiral of pain. I cry out, my grip on his hand tightening as tears stream down my face.

“You’re almost there,” the doctor says, her voice steady and encouraging. “Just one more push.”

“I can’t,” I sob, shaking my head as my body trembles. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Romeo says, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re the strongest person I know, Viviana. You can do this.”

I look at him, his face close to mine, and somehow, his words give me the strength I need. With one final push, a sharp cry fills the room, and my entire body goes limp with relief.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announces, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at him, unable to process the fact that he’s real. That he’s ours.

The nurses clean him up and place him in my arms, his small, perfect face peeking out from the blanket. Tears stream down my face as I cradle him, my heart swelling with a love so fierce it’s almost unbearable.

“He’s beautiful,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

Romeo leans over, his hand resting on my shoulder as he looks down at our son. His dark eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face—a smile so genuine, so full of love, that it steals my breath.

“Can I…?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly.

I nod, and he carefully takes the baby from my arms, cradling him like he’s made of glass. The sight of Romeo holding our son, his large hands so gentle, is almost too much to bear. Tears blur my vision as I watch him, my chest aching with emotion.

“He’s perfect,” Romeo murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Absolutely perfect.”

I reach for his hand, my fingers curling around his. “We did it,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “We made it.”

The peaceful moment shatters as the door to the delivery room opens a crack, letting in the faint noise of hurried footsteps. Romeo’s head snaps up, his protective instincts flaring instantly. Matteo’s voice comes through, low and tense, though he stays just outside the threshold, respecting the sanctity of the room.

“Romeo,” Matteo calls, his tone clipped, edged with urgency. “We have a problem.”

Romeo’s entire body tenses, his grip on our son tightening just slightly before he carefully hands the baby back to me. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady but dangerous.

Matteo hesitates for a moment, and I can tell by his tone when he speaks again that he’s choosing his words carefully. “Marco. He told Salvatore about the baby. He betrayed us. He’s coming for you.”

Romeo exhales sharply, the sound filled with frustration and the promise of retribution. “Marco…how could he do this to me? After all these years.”

“Trust is hard in this business,” Matteo replies, and the weight of those words sends a shiver down my spine. My arms instinctively tighten around the baby, holding him closer as dread curls in my stomach.

Romeo is silent for a moment, his back to me, his hands flexing at his sides. Then, in a voice so cold it sends a chill through the room, he says, “I’ll handle it.”

“No,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, my voice trembling. Romeo turns to me, his expression dark but not unkind. “Romeo, we just…we just had a baby. Please.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he crosses the room, crouching beside me and placing a hand on my knee. “I know,” he says softly, his voice full of guilt. “But Marco has to die. He’s the last threat to us, to the baby.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes.

“You won’t,” he promises, his voice firm. “This is the last loose end. After this, it’s over. I swear it.”

Matteo clears his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. “Time-sensitive, Romeo.”

Romeo rises, brushing a hand over my hair before stepping toward the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. “Stay here. You’re safe.”

As he leaves, the weight of his promise hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken fears.

I glance down at our son, his tiny hand curling around my finger, and pray that Romeo is right—that this will truly be the end of it.