Our Baby Died While He Chose Her

"Are you sure you don't want to wait for Mr. Moretti?" Dr. Lewis handed me the miscarriage report, hesitation on his face.

"He's the baby's father. You don't have to face this alone."

I slipped the report into a folder and answered calmly, "This is my business. I can handle it."

The doctor studied me for several seconds before giving up.

As soon as I left the consultation room, I saw a group of bodyguards approaching from the far end of the corridor.

Dante led them, exhaustion from several sleepless nights shadowing his eyes. Valentina walked beside him, her shoulder still bandaged and Dante's coat draped around her.

She had received emergency treatment at the docks three days ago, but Dante remained worried enough to bring her back for a full examination.

She and Dante had grown up together, and she now oversaw every port operation for the Moretti family.Dante stopped the moment he saw me. "What are you doing at the hospital?" His eyes moved over my pale face, and his brow furrowed. "Are you sick? Why didn't you tell me?"

He reached for the folder in my arms, but I instinctively moved it away. "I only came to collect a report."

"What report?"

"Nothing important."

Dante clearly did not believe me. "I have to deal with the attack at the docks tomorrow. If this was a routine prenatal appointment, move it to next week. I'll come with you then."

I put the folder in my bag. "I can manage on my own. There's no need to trouble you. Thank you."

My excessive politeness made him pause. I used to consult him about something as small as dinner.

If he was late answering a message, I would repeatedly ask whether he was in danger. From choosing clothes for the baby to selecting the hospital for the delivery, I discussed everything with him. Now I had lost our child, and he did not even know what had happened.

When I turned to leave, I accidentally knocked the pharmacy bag from Dante's hand. Painkillers, antibiotics, and an appointment for a full physical examination spilled across the floor. Valentina's name was printed on every label.

Dante bent down to gather them. "She took a bullet for me at the docks. It was only a graze, but I don't want it to cause any lasting problems, so I brought her in for tests."

Valentina took off his coat and handed it back, but Dante placed it over her shoulders again. "You lost blood. Don't push yourself. Marco can take Evelyn home."

Three days earlier, this same hospital had admitted me alone.

I instructed my personal guard not to report my medical condition through the family’s intelligence channel. I had intended to tell Dante myself, but after that night, I no longer saw any reason to beg for a place in his list of priorities.

As the family’s intelligence chief, it was the last time I used my authority.

"Evelyn?" Dante's voice pulled me back. He was studying me, suspicion in his eyes. "Are you still angry because I went to the docks without telling you?"

I glanced at the bandage on Valentina's shoulder and shook my head. "She was injured for the family. Of course you should stay with her."

The tension between Dante's brows eased. He probably thought I had finally accepted that Valentina was his most important partner and learned not to rely on him for everything.

"I'm glad you understand." He touched my lower abdomen, his voice gentler. "Once the situation at the docks is settled, I'll go to your next appointment with you."

I did not pull away. Nor did I tell him there was no longer a child beneath his hand.

"Okay."

This time, I would not wait for him.