Hundred & Ninety-Three (Edited)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED & NINETY-THREE: 

Gianpaolo's POV: 

SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD….

“It's been confirmed,” The doctor said with an unreadable expression on his face as he watched my new bride and childhood friend, Sofia. Her soft hand grabbed my mine tightly, nervousness clear as day as we awaited the doctor's diagnosis.

She'd been feeling unwell lately and just last night, she came down with a high fever prompting my father to send for a doctor. I squeezed her hand back in a gentle reassurance while my heart thumped away behind my ribcage. 

“So?” I urged. “Tell us.” 

He broke into a blinding grin as he moved closer, holding his hand out to me which I took regardless of the confusion clouding my head. “Congratulations,” he said in a loud steady voice as he fixed his gaze back on Sofia. “You're pregnant Mrs Ravazzani.” 

Sofia let out a surprised gasp as I whispered, “Pregnant?” Warmth spread across my chest as I held the doctor's gaze.

“Yes,” he nodded, still smiling. “She is with child.” 

I could almost kiss him for the good news he’d just shared with us. 

My happiness was through the roof as I gathered her up in my arms, pulling her close in an embrace. “We did it, Il mio amore.”

She chuckled through tears, hugging me back as tightly as I was, her cheek resting on my shoulder. “I am so happy,” she admitted softly. “I can't believe I'm pregnant!”

I couldn't either. At fourteen, I was shot twice  by a man who wanted my father dead. I'd almost died, and the doctor had said I might have trouble having kids or even walking but he'd asked my father to still hope for a miracle. I was the only heir to the empire and no kids meant trouble but my father had asked that I quickly get married to my betrothed, Sofia so we could start trying out for kids.

It wasn't uncommon in our world—early marriages, I mean. With the constant tradition of arranged marriages and marriages to form allegiance of any sort. Even my best friend, Carlo, was expecting his son in a month or two but the difference between us was that I fell in love with my betrothed.

You could say I was the luckiest man alive!

I broke away from Sofia’s embrace, turning my attention back to the doctor. “Please inform my father of this good news,” I said with a big balloon of pride threatening to explode in my chest. I knew my father would be overjoyed by this news. 

“No problem at all,” he bowed and hurried out of the room. 

With the two of us left alone, I cupped Sofia’s cheeks, using a thumb to wipe a lone tear. “Thank you for making me a father,” my voice was thick, raw with honesty and gratitude. “Thank you so much, mio amore.”

Her light brown eyes glistened with fresh new tears as her lips stretched in a small smile. “I didn't do this alone, Paolo,” she whispered softly. “We both did.”

No. I was the one with the fertility issue, she helped me. But instead of arguing, “I love you, Sofia.” 

“I love you too, my love.”

~    ~   ~ 

MONTHS LATER…

Who knew childbirth was this scary and excruciatingly long? It's been hours, hours since Sofia went into labour and hours since I've heard her cries and tried to be beside her. They kept separating us. 

‘Not good for the mother and child,’ They said. 

‘Men should leave it to the women, you shouldn't be around her,’ father said. 

Who made those rules? 

If only Carlo hadn’t been avoiding me for the past year, I'd have gotten a quick heads-up from him or something since he already has a son. But the bastard would hardly even speak to me and each time I went over to their mansion, that annoying cousin of his, Enzo kept saying, “He’s out on business.”

Me thinks his father was being an asshole again. I mean, senior Moretti is always an asshole to his son which was why Carlo always leaned on me. Him shutting me out was a new development…

Before my thoughts could spiral further, the door swung open, and one of the midwives came rushing out at the same time I heard a loud, piercing cry of a baby, and my heart stopped.

“Congratulations, it’s a baby girl,” the midwife said but I was already pushing past her, jogging over to my wife. Her light brown hair was darker with sweat, some of it plastered on her forehead, her eyes looked tired despite the bright smile on her face. 

“Come look,” she whispered, her pale skin glistening with droplets of sweat as she held our tiny baby, who was currently crying her tiny lungs out. “She has your eyes,” Sofia said as I lowered onto the spot on the bed beside her. 

“She does,” I heard myself murmur in awe as I stared at my tiny little girl, warmth flowed through me as my chest grew tighter with a mix of emotions; joy, fear, overflowing love for the little life that was now ours. 

I reached a finger out, placing it against the warm, tiny palm of our daughter who’d stopped crying for a bit. “I’ll call her Amora.” 

Sofia chuckled lightly, “You're so predictable, love.” 

My eyes widened a bit. “You did not know I would name her that.”

She snorted. “It was either that or Gemma.”

I gasped. “How did—”

“I know you more than I know myself, Paolo.” 

I felt my face grow hot and I think I fell in love all over again. “I like that,” I admitted. “What about you? What would you call her?”

Without missing a beat, “Letizia.” 

“That’s a beautiful name, sweetheart.” I glanced at our daughter again. 

“I’ll love her for the rest of my life,” I promised as I placed a soft kiss on my wife’s lips.

“I know you will. I trust you.”

And in this moment, I knew that my whole world was right here, with my wife and our daughter, Amora. 

~    ~   ~ 

NINETEEN YEARS OLD….

Two months of being away from home and I couldn't wait another day to see my family. Sofia and Amora especially. 

The thought of Amora made me smile to myself. My little girl was my favorite person in the whole world and I didn't think that was possible considering the fact that Sofia was the love of my life. Hearing her call me ‘Papa’ has become my favorite thing in the world. Snuggling up with her makes my heart feel like it was going to break free from my chest. It’s been two years since I fell in love and I never looked back. 

I'd quickly rounded up the business father asked me to take care of in the US just so I could rush back home, which was why I was already preparing my bags for my flight tomorrow… 

“Boss,” Rafael, my right-hand man, quickly rushed into my room.

My hands paused as my gaze raked his form. Dread coiled in my gut as I stood straighter, ignoring the way hairs stood on my neck. “What?” I snapped, trying to hide my unease. “Since when did you lose your manners?” 

His eyes fell from mine as he quickly bowed, “I’m sorry boss, but there's a big problem.”

I could tell. “Speak up.”

He stood straighter, fear, anger, and pain evident on his face. “Your family has been attacked.”

My blood turned cold, and my heart plummeted. “No—”

“It happened last night,” his voice trembled. “No survivors.”