Page 33 of Sexted By a Stranger

Sheila & Luca

Sheila

"Luca. I'm- the baby's coming."

"Don't be scared, I'm here." His voice cut through my panic as he quickly pressed the emergency communication button on the wall. "Williams, Lennox! Delivery room! Now!"

The manor instantly came alive.

The contractions were getting closer together, more intense.

"Sheila, look at me, breathe." Luca's voice anchored me as his hand gripped my cold, sweat-soaked fingers. "Inhale. That's it. Slow exhale. You can do this."

In the delivery room, medical equipment hummed to life while the medical team positioned themselves. Luca ignored their suggestions to leave, changing into sterile scrubs to stay by my side.

Each violent contraction tore through me like fire. I squeezed his hand until my knuckles turned white.

"Push. Sheila, I can see the baby's head." The doctor encouraged me.

Luca's palm was soaked with sweat as he leaned down to my ear, his voice tight with emotion. "Come on, stellina, our baby's almost here. I'm right here."

With one final, all-consuming push, I felt the release. Then immediately, a piercing cry shattered the tense atmosphere of the delivery room.

"Congratulations! She's a very healthy baby girl!" the nurse announced joyfully.

Tears instantly blurred my vision as overwhelming joy and exhaustion crashed over me simultaneously.

Our daughter.

The nurse quickly and gently wrapped the tiny bundle in soft blankets.

Luca pressed a deep kiss to my forehead.

"You were incredible, stellina. Thank you for giving me the most precious gift in the world. You're amazing, and I'm so proud of you."

I was too exhausted to respond, managing only a weak smile.

Luca carefully took our daughter from the nurse's arms. This man, who struck fear into his enemies, trembled slightly as he held that soft, tiny life.

"She's so small, so perfect." His voice cracked with emotion, tears glistening in his eyes. "Luna," he whispered with infinite tenderness, "our little moon."

He bent down, gently placing Luna on my chest, gazing at me with overflowing love.

I was certain he would be the most wonderful father.

After Luna's birth, Mom decided to move in with us to help care for her. Leon was thrilled, playing with Luna every day and showing me the portraits he'd drawn of her.

Meanwhile, Luca began planning our wedding.

I had only one request: keep it simple.

Luca readily agreed, but I could see from his eyes that his definition of "simple" differed from mine.

A month later, staring at a ten-page wedding checklist, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Luca. You call this simple?" I waved the list in the air. "Four hundred guests. Three-tier cake. You even got Vivian to perform live?."

"This is the scaled-down version," he looked completely innocent. "The original plan was eight hundred people."

"Vivian," I raised an eyebrow, "isn't my idol also your ex-girlfriend? She agreed to come?"

Luca's expression instantly tensed. "Sheila, how did you know about that? That's all in the past."

"Oh?" I deliberately drew out the sound. "Mr. Luca Bellomo, you wouldn't be trying to rekindle old flames at our wedding, would you?"

"What? No!" he rushed to explain. "We've been just friends for years!"

Seeing him like this, I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm kidding. I trust you. Besides, I want to get a few autographs."

"Stellina, you scared me," he exhaled in relief.

Luca

Sheila said to keep it "simple."

My stellina was always thoughtful, never wanting to trouble anyone.

I reviewed every item on the checklist, from white roses air-shipped from Italy to the three-layer security network Ragnar had arranged throughout and around the estate. This was already the biggest compromise I could make.

The night before the wedding, I sat alone in my study. On the wall, portraits of generations of Soprano family leaders gazed down silently.

The door opened, and the sound of a silver cane tapping against the floor announced my uncle Lorenzo Bellomo's arrival.

His hawk-like gaze swept over me, settling on a proposal for overseas investments.

"Luca," his voice was gravelly, "are you certain about her?

That dancer-turned-jewelry designer?" He paused, his cane striking the floor with a heavy thud.

"Word on the street is you're moving our family's foundation—built over generations—into those clean businesses for this woman. Tell me it's not true."

I turned to meet his sharp stare. "Uncle Lorenzo, Sheila is my choice, Luna's mother. Her strength, determination, and intelligence make her worthy of the Soprano name and all its responsibilities."

"Worthy?" Lorenzo's mouth turned down, his tone harsh.

"And her way of proving that is making you shake the family's foundation?

Luca, even your father never lost his head over a woman like this.

How many people can those 'clean' businesses feed?

How many mouths are waiting for their daily bread? Don't tell me you can't see that."

"You're wrong, Uncle." My voice remained steady. "Sheila understands who we are and what we do better than you think. She can handle the weight of it all." I stepped forward, holding his gaze.

"And she's already proving it. Beyond jewelry design—finance courses, business books, she's studying financial reports at three in the morning. She's actively learning. She can stand beside me and help hold up this family."

The air seemed to freeze. Lorenzo's piercing eyes locked onto mine, as if penetrating my skin to examine the quality of my soul.

Time crawled by, second by second.

Finally, his tense jawline relaxed, and his weathered hand rose to pat my shoulder heavily.

"Luca," his voice carried a hint of amusement, "you're doing better than your parents did." He paused. "I hope your choice won't disappoint us. The family's future is in your hands."

He took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the portraits on the wall. "Those other old fools making noise—I'll handle them."

Without looking at me again, he leaned on his silver cane and left the study.

I stood alone, facing those silent, watchful portraits once more. But the conviction in my chest—to forge a path for Luna, for Sheila, and for the family—burned stronger and more unshakeable than ever.

On the wedding day, at dawn, I stood before the altar at Santa Maria de Stella Church.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting dancing patterns of light at my feet.

The air was filled with the crisp fragrance of white roses and the hushed conversations of guests filling every pew.

Waiting.

Every second felt like an eternity. I could actually hear my heart pounding in my chest.

Nervous.

The feeling was strange—I'd never felt this way facing gun barrels or negotiation tables.

Images flashed through my mind.

On stage, her desperate yet defiant eyes, like a wounded animal that refused to bow its head, struck straight to my heart.

Her voice was breaking as she spoke of her dreams and her brother's illness, that weight pressing on her shoulders, making me feel protective for the first time.

Her stubborn refusal to accept gifts easily, her fierce dedication to her dreams, her radiance when she won awards, her determination to find a way out even when Connor held her captive… She was so brilliant, so captivating.

Her concern for my safety, her opposition to my business transition.

Under the harsh delivery room lights, her hair damp with sweat against her temples, her face pale, yet glowing with the maternal radiance of bringing new life into the world.

She outshone any jewel, more dazzling than the stars themselves. She was the only person who could walk beside me as an equal.

Sheila

The pure white premium silk wedding dress fit my form perfectly, intricate lace creating elegant curves.

I wore the necklace Luca had given me that first time, though the chain had been modified for the wedding.

"Sheila, be happy." Mom's eyes filled with tears as she adjusted my veil and train. "Your father is surely watching from heaven, so proud of you."

"He's always been watching over us."

Madeline hugged me tightly. "Darling, I'm so happy for you. That stubborn little girl from years ago has become the most beautiful bride."

The church doors slowly opened.

I walked arm-in-arm with Mom down the red carpet strewn with rose petals.

Luca looked breathtaking in his black tailcoat. Our eyes met across the space, and his gaze immediately blazed with focused, deep warmth.

"Sei bellissima, la mia stellina." When I reached him, he whispered softly.

The priest solemnly officiated the ceremony.

We exchanged vows, our voices echoing through the ancient church. When Luca carefully slipped a ring with a massive square-cut diamond onto my ring finger, I placed the Starlight ring—the one that carried our story—on his finger.

"Sheila," Luca gazed into my eyes, "I swear by my life that through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, I will forever protect you, Luna, and our family."

"Luca," I looked back at him, "whether the path ahead is smooth or filled with thorns, I will walk beside you always."

Luca cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.

The church erupted in applause and cheers, but my world contained only the warmth of his lips against mine.

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