chapter4

 

Lena’s POV

The envelope arrived by private courier, unmarked and discreet.Inside, Sofia had outdone herself.

The pristine ultrasound images showing a six-week fetus, complete with medical timestamps and her clinic's official letterhead.

The pregnancy test results were equally convincing, showing elevated hCG levels that would satisfy even the most suspicious observer.

Perfect.

Sofia's note was brief: "No questions asked, as promised. But Lena, please be careful. Whatever you're planning, remember that some lines can't be uncrossed."

Too late for that warning. I was already standing on the far side of that line, and there was no path back to innocence.

---

The ICU visiting hours began at two o'clock sharp. I changed into the sterile gown and mask required for entry. The antiseptic smell of the intensive care unit always made my stomach turn, but today it felt particularly nauseating, whether from nerves or some twisted irony, I couldn't tell.

Nico lay exactly as I'd left him the day before. The ventilator wheezed rhythmically, his chest rising and falling in mechanical precision.

How had we come to this?

The attack replayed in my mind with vivid clarity. The rival family's assassins had targeted Salvatore at the art auction house, but Nico had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bullets meant for the elder brother had found the younger instead, shattering his spine at the T5 vertebra. The family's private medical team had delivered their verdict with clinical detachment: complete spinal cord transection, permanent paraplegia, respiratory compromise, neurogenic bladder, bowel dysfunction, erectile dysfunction—a lifetime of complete dependency.

In layman's terms, the vibrant, artistic man I'd married was gone forever.

I pulled a chair close to his bedside and took his hand in mine. It was still warm, still recognizably his despite the weight he'd lost in these past weeks. His wedding ring hung loose on his finger now.

"Nico," I whispered, leaning closer to his ear. "I have something to tell you. Something wonderful."

His eyes fluttered open, focusing on me with effort. The medication kept him drowsy, but consciousness was returning more frequently now.

"Lena?" His voice was barely audible through the oxygen mask. "You... shouldn't be here. Too dangerous... for you."

"Shhh." I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Listen to me, my love. We're going to have a baby."

The words hung in the sterile air between us. I watched his face transform, confusion giving way to disbelief, then to something that might have been hope.

"A baby?" he repeated, his voice cracking. "But... how? When?"

I held up the ultrasound image, letting him see the grainy black and white proof of our supposed miracle. "Six weeks along. I found out yesterday, and I... I wanted to surprise you."

Tears began to stream down his face, silent and overwhelming. For the first time since the attack, I saw something other than despair in his eyes.

"Our child?" he whispered. "Really?"

"Really." The lie came so easily it terrified me. "The doctors say everything looks perfect. We're going to be parents, Nico."

He closed his eyes, and for a moment I thought he'd slipped back into unconsciousness. When he opened them again, there was a determination there that I hadn't seen in weeks.

"I can't... I can't leave you both now. Can I?"

I squeezed his hand tighter. "The baby will need you. Our child will need to know their father. And the Coleone name... our bloodline continues through this child."

The mention of family legacy seemed to steel something in him. Despite everything, Nico was still his father's son, raised with the weight of generational responsibility.

"Six months," he said quietly. "The doctors say I have six months for any chance of recovery. Maybe... maybe if I fight..."

"We'll fight together," I promised, hating myself for the hope I was building on deception. "The baby and I need you to get better."

---

Isabella's reaction was everything I'd expected and feared. When I showed her the ultrasound images in the family waiting room, she actually screamed. She clutched the pictures to her chest like holy relics.

"Madonna mia, a grandchild! A Coleone heir!" She kissed both my cheeks repeatedly, tears streaming down her face. "This is God's answer to our prayers, Lena. This child... this child will save us all."

Within hours, I found myself being escorted back to the family estate by Isabella's personal driver, a stoic man named Paolo who spoke only when necessary. Isabella had already called ahead, Maria the housekeeper was meeting with a nutritionist, a private nurse was being interviewed, and the guest room adjacent to the master bedroom was being converted into a nursery.

The efficiency was both touching and terrifying. The Coleone family machine had shifted into full protection mode for their precious heir-to-be.

---

Back in the master bedroom of the estate, I locked myself in the marble bathroom and finally allowed the full weight of what I'd done to crush down on me.

What have I become?

But there was no time for self-recrimination. Sofia had been clear about the medical realities: artificial insemination success rates varied between thirty and fifty percent, required careful timing, genetic screening, and weeks of preparation. The process would need to be conducted through a private clinic to avoid FBI surveillance—something that would take time I didn't have.

Six months. That's all the window Nico had for potential recovery. If I waited for the slow, uncertain process of artificial insemination, that window would close forever.

The alternative was... unthinkable. And yet it seemed like the only rational choice left.

I had to get pregnant. Soon. By any means necessary.

Time to stop being the victim of circumstance and start taking control.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Salvatore's contact. The man who controlled the family's fate, who had walked away from his dying brother without a word, who saw everything through the lens of business and power.

The man who shared Nico's bloodline.

Before I could lose my nerve, I typed quickly: "Salvatore, I need to speak with you privately. When would be convenient?"

I stared at the message for a long moment, knowing that sending it would set in motion events I couldn't control or undo. But Nico was counting on me now. Isabella was planning for her grandchild.

For love. For family. For the hope that maybe, somehow, we could all find salvation in this impossible situation.

I pressed send and waited for the devil to respond.