6- Caged in Silk

When Milan opened her eyes for the first time after the episode, she saw a calm, pretty woman. A doctor or a nurse, she could not tell.

She noticed she had stopped shivering, but the memory of Vito witnessing her breakdown pressed against her temples, making her headache pulse stronger.

“Signorina, how do you feel?” the petite woman asked gently. She had long black hair that framed her face and her doe-like eyes softened her expression as a warm smile curved her lips.

Milan stiffened. “It is just momentary. I do not need a doctor,” she said, turning her head to avoid what she imagined would be a look of pity. She had survived her anxiety attacks and the distortions in her brain for a year now. A single episode would not kill her.

“I know it was momentary, and you would have survived,” the doctor said. “That is not my question, signorina. How are you feeling? Any complaints?” She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Milan reluctantly turned to face her.

“I am fine,” she said, her voice tight but steady.

“Good to hear. By the way, I am Dr. Andrea Di Mauro. And you?”

“Milano,” she offered, shifting back against the pillows to make herself comfortable.

“No, do not sit like that,” Andrea said, pressing gently on her shoulders and guiding her back against the bed.

Milan frowned.

“Why not?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She felt fine and did not need to be treated like a patient.

“Because you need to rest, at least for a few more minutes or maybe an hour. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee that the treatment will work as intended.”

Milan blinked in surprise. “Treatment? Who called you here, Vito?” Her voice was tinged with disbelief. Even cold as he was, he had called a doctor for her anxiety episode.

But she quickly reminded herself. Today’s case was not just a bit of anxiety. She witnessed the death of her husband, a man who had been a source of terror in her life since she married him.

Milan’s chest tightened. A small voice in her head whispered caution as she waited for Andrea’s next words.

“Yes, I was called by him,” Andrea spoke out. She paused briefly, as if choosing her words carefully.

“You can speak freely. I took his drink,” Milan said, repeating Vito’s earlier words to Mateo. It worked. Andrea’s face relaxed into a small smile.

“I am the den’s private doctor,” she revealed.

Milan realized she had not noticed the room’s darkness.

Andrea must have seen her gaze drifting to the ceiling because she added, “Do you want the light on?”

“No, not for now,” Milan murmured, already feeling drowsy from the residual effects of her episode.

Andrea observed her. “The medications are kicking in, Milano. I suggest you sign up for antenatal care.”

Milan froze. “Antenatal! Why would I need that?”

Andrea’s expression softened but remained serious. “Because, signorina, you are pregnant.”

Milan’s heart stopped. “Pregnant? How far along?” she asked, her voice shaking with panic and disbelief.

“Almost four weeks,” Andrea said gently.

Milan’s mind raced. She couldn't be pregnant.

But it wasn't impossible.

“I do not need antenatal. I will not be keeping this child.” Her tone was harsh and bitter.

Giovanni was the one who wanted a child, not me. He is dead. Why would I want this?

Andrea did not flinch. “If you choose to terminate the pregnancy, it should only be after you are fully recovered from today’s episode and any emotional instability. For now, we must focus on keeping you safe and healthy. I have also prescribed medications that are safe during pregnancy to reduce anxiety, stress, and shock.”

Milan’s fists clenched at her sides as she stared at Andrea, her mind a storm of grief, shock, and uncertainty.

The reality of a child she had not expected pressed down on her, making her feel both terrified and vulnerable.

They had tried countless times in the past. But it was always unsuccessful.

How could it be? How could she be pregnant now when she thought she’d finally escape Giovanni’s trap?

Andrea reached out and placed a reassuring hand lightly on Milan’s arm. “You have choices, signorina. Don't overthink your condition. For now, rest and let your body recover. The decisions will come when you are ready.”

Milan nodded stiffly, still reeling from the news.

She felt powerless, and the weight of a future she had not chosen made her feel weak and troubled.

Milan wanted nothing more than to go home.

She longed to inhale her Babbo’s familiar musk and herbaceous scent, to hug her older brother, Roma, and let him braid her hair again as he used to. She craved the presence of her family, not a doctor or a child.

“Alright, as you wish. You can rest now,” Andrea said after adjusting her pillow.

Milan closed her eyes, dreading the sympathy she might see reflected in Andrea’s face.

“Thank you for coming to my aid, Andrea. Please don't tell Vito that I’m pregnant,” she pleaded softly.

“I won't. That's your secret to tell.”

Fortunately, the doctor did not linger.

“Switch on the light before you leave, please.” Milan yawned, surrendering to the pull of sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the harsh gleam of the overhead light hit her, forcing her to squint.

Andrea had left, but the light remained on, a quiet acknowledgment of her drowsy request.

Milan lifted herself from the bed and scanned the room. It did not look like a hospital. The walls were decorated with a dark purple motif she had not noticed before. Two guns crossed each other in the design, and the words Angels Den were written at the bottom.

Angels Den? Is this where I am? she wondered, her thoughts hazy as she blinked several times.

The room was not large, but it felt spacious. It contained only a bed, a desk, a chair, and several huge brown boxes that appeared to be stashed with drugs.

Her senses became alert.

The smell hit her and her mind whispered dangerous temptations. She felt the urge to rush forward and sniff the hard drugs.

Her body betrays her instincts with trembling hands.

“Is anyone there?” she called, her voice shaky.

Footsteps echoed in response.

“Mateo? Vito?” she asked again, her voice trembling with unease.

What if it is not them? What if Vito left me here and these footsteps belong to one of his men? What if they are dangerous?

Her thoughts spiraled, sending her body into another round of terrible trembling. She made an effort to blank her mind, to stop the anxiety from taking hold, but it was relentless.

The door opened.

Her chest tightened.

Milan felt she might faint if the person entering was anyone other than Vito.

Then she saw him. His tall, bulky frame filled the doorway, and the tension gripping her body immediately loosened.

Relief washed over her like warm moonlight.

Vito’s eyes immediately found hers, scanning her carefully for any signs of weakness or distress.

When he saw her trembling, he did not speak immediately. Instead, he stepped inside slowly and closed the door behind him, the sound solid and final.

His presence alone was enough to steady her racing heart.

Milan’s gaze wandered briefly to the brown boxes.

She remembered Andrea’s words about antenatal care. The memory of her pregnancy settled heavily in her stomach, a mixture of shock, fear, and something she could not yet name.

Her hands subconsciously rested on her abdomen, as if trying to make sense of the life growing inside her.