All Chapters of Falling for My Husband’s Brother: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lena's POVThe medical facility Salvatore had arranged occupied the top floor of a nondescript building in Midtown.A nurse in crisp white scrubs greeted me at the entrance. "Mrs. Venturi? Right this way. Dr. Chen is preparing the procedure room."I followed her through sterile corridors. Salvatore's sperm sample had already been collected and prepared. All that remained was the insemination procedure that would create the embryo.The nurse led me to a private waiting area. "Please change into the gown on the bed. Someone will be with you shortly."She left, and I stood alone in the small room, my heart hammering against my ribs.This was it.I was reaching for the hospital gown when a familiar figure passed by the open doorway. Dark hair pulled back in a neat bun. A nurse's uniform that didn't quite fit her frame. And eyes that met mine with unmistakable significance.Mia.She made no move to acknowledge me openly—just a subtle tilt of her chin toward the hallway, a silent message I

Lena POVThe Venturi estate was a fortress of gold and silence, but on Sunday nights, it transformed into a theater.I smoothed the fabric of my dress. My hands trembled slightly, so I clasped them in my lap.Two days. It had been two days since I told the clinic to stop. But in this room, under the watchful, hopeful eyes of Isabella, I was still the vessel.The foyer was crowded with cousins and capos, the inner circle of the Venturi hierarchy. I stood near the grand staircase, feeling like a ghost in my own life, when I saw him.From the back, the man was a lightning bolt of grief. The height, the set of the shoulders, and that specific shade of deep linen-blonde hair—it was Nico. My heart leaped into my throat, a painful, frantic thud. For one delusional second, the last few weeks vanished. Nico wasn’t paralyzed; he wasn’t in a hospital bed. He was here, home for dinner."Nico?" The name slipped out before I could choke it back.The man turned. The illusion shattered, yet the resem

Lena's POVThe news reached me through the whispers of the household staff before the men even arrived at my door. Apparently, at a private gathering, Salvatore had made a formal proclamation. He had stood before the capos and the street bosses, the men who still held onto the old ways, and declared that I was under his direct and personal protection. He cited the lingering threat of the Moretti remnants and the need to secure the Venturi bloodline. To the world, it looked like a gesture of profound fraternal loyalty. To me, it felt like a death warrant for my remaining traces of freedom.The reality of that proclamation manifested the following morning in the form of four men. They were tall, silent, and dressed in identical charcoal suits that did little to hide the bulk of the weapons holstered beneath their jackets. They didn't introduce themselves. They simply stood in the foyer of the estate, waiting for me to leave for the museum."The car is ready, Mrs. Venturi," one of them s

lena’s POVThe warehouse doors were kicked open, and a flood of light poured in. I saw a figure silhouetted against the glare. He was moving fast, a submachine gun in his hands.It was Gabriele.He didn't look like the charming, flirtatious cousin I had met at dinner. He reached me in seconds, his knife flashing as he sliced through my bonds."I’ve got you, Lena," he pulled me up, his arm around my waist, supporting me as my legs threatened to give way. "I’ve got you. You’re safe."I looked over at Luca. He was on the ground, Russo’s boot on his neck and a gun pressed to his temple. He looked small. Pathetic."Is the baby okay?" Gabriele asked, his eyes searching mine with a terrifyingly genuine concern.I nodded, clutching his jacket, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Yes. We’re okay."--Salvatore’s POVI had abandoned the negotiations in Brussels the moment Marco’s voice crackled through the secure line, telling me that Lena was gone.By the time I landed at Teterboro and receiv

Lena's POVHe gave me a brief tour that first evening, the kind that covered function rather than feeling: kitchen, laundry, the study I was not to enter without reason, the terrace that required a key code, the emergency contact list posted inside the hall closet.My room was at the end of the long corridor, opposite end from his.Dante carried my bags without being asked and set them inside the door. I thanked him. He nodded and left.I stood in the doorway and looked at the room.It was a guest room in the structural sense. Good furniture, clean lines, a window that faced east as Salvatore had mentioned. But I had passed two other guest rooms on the way down the corridor, their doors standing open in the casual way of rooms that are not currently in use, and something about this one was different in a way I could not immediately locate.I stepped inside and stood still for a moment.The light was wrong. Not wrong badly, wrong specifically. The overhead fixture was off and the room