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Chapter Twenty-One

Nora

E verything unraveled far too quickly, landing me here in a sterile hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping steadily beside me.

I wasn’t ready for this—just hours ago, Rafaele left me satisfied in bed. But later, when I stood up, something felt off. At first, I brushed it off as stomach cramps, but then the pain deepened, and spotting appeared in my underwear. In that moment, all rational thought fled. Every horrible scenario I’d read in the doctor’s pamphlet flashed through my mind, and panic consumed me. Teresa’s husband drove me straight to the hospital, my head spinning with fear.

Now, as the worst of that initial panic fades, I can think clearly. I don’t want Rafaele to find out this way. If he discovers I kept something this serious from him, especially with our child involved, he may never forgive me. I need to go home, talk to him myself, and make sure he understands why I hesitated.

Just then, the door opens, and I sit up, prepared to plead with the doctor for an early discharge. “Doctor, I?—”

But my words die in my throat as I see who’s following him. Rafaele stands there, his face drained of color, his dark eyes filled with a fury I’ve never seen before.

“Rafaele…”

He ignores me which is not something he ever did before.

I swallow, nerves twisting inside me as I watch Rafaele settle into the chair beside my bed, his face a mask of controlled rage.

"So," he says slowly, turning to the doctor, "you were explaining how my wife's autoimmune conditions could affect her… and our child."

I bite down on my lip, tasting blood, and fight the urge to disappear under the covers. This is all on me—there’s no one else to blame. But the doctor, oblivious to the storm brewing in Rafaele’s eyes, continues without pause.

“Yes, as I was saying, her conditions—particularly lupus—do present certain risks. It’s crucial for her to attend regular checkups, maintain a balanced lifestyle, and reduce stress. We’ll be monitoring closely to manage any complications that might arise.”

Rafaele’s gaze shifts to me, piercing and unwavering, and the disappointment I see there stings more than I could have imagined.

“So,” he says, voice tight, “how risky is her pregnancy?”

“The baby is fine, Rafaele.” I try to reassure him, but his look is enough to make me wish I could vanish.

“I’m speaking to your doctor, Nora,” he replies. “We’ll discuss things later.” He turns back to the doctor, his voice steely. “I mean her. Is her life at risk?”

The doctor clears his throat, picking up on the tension but remaining professional. “Yes, Mrs. Lucchese’s conditions—lupus and fibromyalgia—increase certain risks. Lupus, particularly, can lead to complications if not carefully monitored, but with regular checkups and reducing stress, we can manage this. She’ll need strong support.”

“Understood,” Rafaele replies, his tone soft but carrying an intensity I’ve only ever heard when he’s deadly serious. He watches the doctor as though committing every word to memory.

The doctor nods. “But as I was saying, this incident was benign. Spotting in early pregnancy is fairly common. Coming in was absolutely the right choice.” He offers me a nod. “I commend Mrs. Lucchese for her diligence.”

“Yes, indeed,” Rafaele replies. “Mrs. Lucchese is quite diligent.” The underlying threat in his voice sends a chill through me.

The doctor clears his throat and gives a polite nod. “I’ll go prepare the discharge paperwork. Feel free to get ready.”

Once the doctor leaves, silence settles over the room like a storm waiting to break. Rafaele turns back to me, his expression a painful mix of hurt and determination.

“You kept this from me, Nora,” he says, his voice quiet but edged with accusation. “You kept your life from me.”

I swallow, whispering, “I swear, I’ll do everything to give you a healthy heir. I promise?—”

His eyes flash with sudden fury, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Do you really think I give a damn about an heir if it means losing you? It’s you, Nora. You’re the only one who matters to me. I should have known about these risks before I ever touched you, before I ever thought of making you mine.” He breaks off, running a hand through his hair, his frustration raw and exposed. “If I’d known…”

I look away, the implication of his words pressing heavily. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Because now you see me as weak—you see the disease before you see the woman. You’re just like my parents.” A tearless sob escapes me.

He recoils as if I’d struck him, hurt flashing across his face. “You think… how?” His voice is ragged, disbelief thick in every word. “How can you believe that? After everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve told you?” He leans forward, his gaze fierce, unyielding. “Nora, there is nothing in this world that could make me see you as weak. Nothing. From the moment you looked me in the eyes that day and chose me, I knew you were a force to be reckoned with, and knowing this… it only makes me love and respect you more.” He scrubs his hand over his face, his eyes softening with something almost like awe. “I love you, Nora Lucchese, with all of my blackened heart and every piece of my soiled soul.”

I stare at him, speechless. Those words—words I never thought I’d hear—spill from him with raw intensity. I feel it in his voice, see it in the slight tremor in his hand as he reaches for mine.

“You can’t leave me, Nora,” he continues, his voice softer but just as fierce. “Not now, not ever. Not when you’ve made my heart bleed for you. I don’t want this baby if it’s not with you. I want you—and only you.”

I’ve seen Rafaele without his shields before, but never as vulnerable or human as he is now—and it’s all because of me.

I squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of my own guilt. “I should have told you, but the longer I waited, the more I wanted to be the woman you thought you married.”

“Damn it, Nora. You are the woman I thought I married. Actually, that’s not even true—you’re so much more. You’ve changed my view on everything. My life shifted on its axis, and now, you’re the center of it.” He takes a breath, his voice breaking just slightly. “I know you don’t love me, I know that… and it’s okay. But if you could?—”

“Stupid man.”

He frowns. “Okay?”

I smile through my tears. “If you think I’m foolish for doubting you, then how could you not see that I love you too? Despite all my efforts to guard myself, Rafaele, you’re the man I’ve always dreamed of.”

His brows lift, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “You dreamed of marrying The Reaper?”

A faint smile plays on my lips, soft yet sincere. "Maybe not The Reaper himself," I say quietly, "but a man with fierce loyalty, strength, and… an unexpected softness. A man who lets me be myself and spread my wings. A man who loves me and wants me to be happy."

His hand tightens around mine, and his gaze softens, reaching a place deep inside me that no one else has touched. "Then maybe you were meant to marry The Reaper after all," he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. "But don’t lie to me again, Nora. I need to know I can trust you fully, that there’s no doubt lurking in the back of my mind."

I nod, giving him this promise, heavy with guilt but grounded in resolve. "I won’t, I swear."

He studies my face, his eyes searching mine as if reading my thoughts, seeing straight through me as he always does. Today’s fear tore through me, and the only person I truly wanted by my side was him—his quiet strength, his unyielding presence. And I denied myself that by keeping this secret. I won’t make that mistake again.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me while we wait for the discharge?" His voice is softer, an invitation more than a demand.

I sigh, leaning back against the bed. "I was diagnosed when I was fourteen. Turned out I wasn’t just 'lazy,'” I say, laughing to ease the sting of old memories. But his eyes darken as if sensing every cutting remark my mother ever threw at me. "It was tough, but I learned to live with it. The worst of it comes and goes, these flare-ups—they bring more pain and exhaustion, but I manage."

He’s quiet, but I know he’s listening deeply, carefully. "What do you mean, ‘more’?"

There’s no hiding now; his attention never wavers. "I always feel a certain level of pain,” I admit, his hand tightening around mine in response. “But it’s like a dull ache in the background most of the time. I’ve gotten used to it, learned to work around it."

His expression softens as he watches me, something deep and unguarded flickering in his eyes—a pride and protectiveness that roots me to the spot.

“But during flares,” I continue, “it’s a different story. The pain can be… unbearable. Even moving takes so much energy it’s like my body becomes a weight I can barely carry.” I swallow, glancing at him, expecting pity but finding only quiet respect.

"And you just… handle that?" His voice is low, tinged with disbelief.

"I do what I have to," I say softly, shrugging as if to brush it off, though my heart races under his gaze.

He’s silent, his eyes never leaving mine, and I can see the intensity of his admiration, the weight of his understanding, settling over him. “Was it a flare-up… when you had that cold?”

There’s no more hiding—I nod, unable to meet his eyes as I push myself up from the bed, but his hands are immediately there, steadying me.

“Nora.” He sighs, shaking his head as he watches me. “Where did I fail you?” he asks quietly, his hand tightening on mine. “Why didn’t you think you could come to me?”

“It’s not that… It’s just—” I struggle to find the right words, pulling my sweater dress over my shoulders. “You’re so… steady, so controlled, so perfect all the time. I feel like I’m stumbling around in my flaws.”

He lets out a soft scoff, glancing down at himself with a smirk. “Perfect?” He taps his chest. “I’m so far from perfect. Flaws? Amore, I’m an encyclopedia of failures.”

“Oh yeah?” I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Then tell me one.”

He leans back, looking at me thoughtfully, but he’s silent for so long that I think he won’t answer.

Finally, he murmurs, “My brother lied to you.”

Confused, I frown, taking a seat beside him as he pats the space beside him on the bed. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, his eyes hold an unusual vulnerability. “I never touched Camilla. I never touched any woman before you, Nora.” He hesitates, then looks me straight in the eye.

I blink, stunned, as I try to wrap my head around his words. “That’s… not possible.”

A muscle tenses in his jaw, and he gives a slight, bitter smile. “Why? Because I’m a mafia boss in my thirties? I didn’t expect you to be so narrow-minded.”

“No!” I shake my head. “No, that’s not it. It’s just…” I trail off, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “You’re just… really good at it.”

His frown fades, replaced by that boyish grin I know is only for me. “Oh, well,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice, “I might not have practiced, but I knew the theory. And my first priority was always to make sure you found pleasure.” His eyes darken slightly as he takes my hand, drawing me closer. “You were worth waiting for.”

A warmth spreads through me, filling me with awe and tenderness as I hold his gaze. The man who once believed himself to be a hardened, unfeeling “Reaper” is here, opening himself up to me with a raw honesty I know doesn’t come easily.

He pauses, letting out a deep breath. “For so long, I thought I was broken,” he admits. “People would call me a sociopath, say I was incapable of love, and maybe I started to believe it. But then… I met you, and now I realize maybe I just hadn’t found the right person. My Nora.”

His words settle into me, grounding me in a way I can’t explain. “Rafaele…” I murmur, my voice catching in my throat.

He holds me close, his hand resting over my heart. “I’d do anything to protect you, Nora. Anything. But this…” He looks at me, his gaze fierce but tender. “This pain you carry—it’s part of you, and I’d never ask you to change. I just want to be here, to shoulder it with you.”

The moment is broken as the nurse enters, carrying my discharge papers, but the intensity in Rafaele’s gaze remains. After the paperwork is signed and instructions are handed over, he holds me steady, one arm protectively wrapped around my waist as we leave the hospital. His presence is a quiet, unspoken reassurance that seeps into me, easing my nerves.

Outside, Paolo is waiting for us. For the first time, he doesn’t crack a joke or make a comment. Instead, he pulls me into a gentle hug, whispering quietly in my ear, “Don’t scare our boy like that again, okay? He won’t survive it.”

I glance at Rafaele, whose jaw tightens just a bit at seeing me in Paolo’s arms. He’s still his possessive self, and it makes me smile. “I’ll try my best,” I murmur, squeezing Paolo’s arm before stepping back to Rafaele’s side.

Once we arrive home, the comforting familiarity of the place calms me further. As we walk into the foyer, I’m surprised to find Leo waiting. He shifts his weight awkwardly, concern etched on his face. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Rafaele’s expression is immediately guarded, a cool mask settling over his features. “You could have called.”

But something in me wants to fix this, to bridge the gap between them that years of silence and tension have caused. “Why don’t you stay?” I say, gesturing warmly. “There’s always too much food.”

Leo hesitates, his gaze darting between me and Rafaele. “I don’t want to bother.”

“You never bother.” I reach out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “You’re family.”

His eyes soften, and for the first time, I see something raw and vulnerable there, replacing his mocking cockiness. It makes my throat tighten because I suddenly understand that Rafaele isn’t the only one here carrying scars. Leo has his own share of trauma, different but no less painful, lingering quietly under his surface.

“Stay for dinner, Leo,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “We want you here.”

He hesitates, his gaze moving back to Rafaele, searching for permission, understanding, or maybe just acceptance. Finally, Rafaele nods, his expression softening just a bit. “Stay.”

Leo’s shoulders relax, and I see a hint of a smile—the kind that’s guarded but real. It’s a beginning, fragile yet genuine, and for the first time, I see the possibility of family here, of something more than just blood ties but connection, healing, and trust.

As we make our way to the dining room, Rafaele slips his arm around me, drawing me close to kiss my temple. “You’re too kind, amore.”

And as we settle into dinner together, the sense of family—of something solid, something worth fighting for—fills the space between us, a quiet strength in the face of all we’ve endured and all we’re still learning to overcome.

As we gather around the table, there’s a comfortable sort of quiet that settles over us, one that feels rare but welcome. I catch Leo glancing around the dining room, a bit out of his element, but there’s a softness to his gaze that hints he’s more at ease than he lets on.

“So, Leo,” I say, passing the breadbasket his way. “How’s everything at the club? Keeping you busy?”

He tenses slightly, and I almost regret asking, but he surprises me with a nod. “Yeah… it’s good. I like the responsibility. Keeps me… grounded.” He hesitates, then looks at me more directly. “Are you really okay?”

I smile, trying to keep things light. “Just a scare, really. I might have been a little dramatic about it.” I cast Rafaele a playful look, hoping to ease any leftover tension.

Rafaele, ever serious, raises an eyebrow. “Dramatic?” he says dryly. “I’d call it appropriately concerned.”

Leo chuckles, glancing between us with amusement. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, hasn’t she?”

Without missing a beat, Rafaele takes my hand, warmth radiating from his touch. “Absolutely,” he says, his voice full of quiet conviction. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

“Neither do I,” Paolo chimes in with a grin. “It’s a source of endless mockery.”

Rafaele glares, but there’s a glint of humor in his eyes. I lean into him, feeling his strength and support. “Laugh while you can, both of you. One day, you’ll each find someone who pulls you just as deeply. Then it’ll be our turn to laugh.”

Leo shifts slightly, his jaw tightening in a way that’s barely noticeable. But Rafaele catches it, his eyes flicking briefly to his brother, his expression softening before he lets the moment pass. After a beat, Leo clears his throat, breaking the silence with a rueful smile.

“You’re probably right,” he mutters. “But until that day, let me just enjoy my freedom while I can.”

Paolo laughs, raising his glass. “And then, on with the double wedding!”

The table erupts with laughter, the warm sounds filling the room and making everything feel just as it should—easy, welcoming, and full of a sense of family I hadn’t expected to find here. As dinner winds down, I watch Paolo and Leo leave with a certain gratitude. I love these evenings with Rafaele—just the two of us in the comfort of our quiet home—but something is nagging at me tonight.

Rafaele takes my hand, leading me toward the library with Fate trailing faithfully behind us. As we step inside, he closes the door softly, and I turn to him, the thought pressing on me too heavily to ignore.

“Your brother’s hiding something,” I say, keeping my voice low.

He nods, not a hint of surprise in his expression. “I know.”

“And he looked… scared. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.”

Rafaele’s jaw tightens, his gaze drifting as if considering something unseen. “I know.”

I step closer, my voice steady and determined. “Then we need to help him.”

He turns back to me, a faint smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “We?”

“Yes, we,” I say, holding his gaze. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”

His expression softens, his fingers brushing gently along my cheek. “Yes, we are.” He pulls me close, guiding me toward the sofa. “But for now,” he murmurs, his voice a comforting rumble, “you’re going to let me take care of you. Will you do that for me, wife?”

I lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my cheek as I close my eyes. “Yes, husband,” I whisper, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over me, melting away the day’s lingering worries. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I know we’ll face them together—stronger, united.

And I have The Reaper on my side.