All Chapters of The Mafia’s Revenge And The Baby He Rejected : Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

The clinical scent of antiseptic always seemed to linger in the manor’s west wing long after the private physician had departed. For Elian, that scent was the smell of a ticking clock.Dr. Aris had arrived late Tuesday evening, his movements methodical and cold as he drew three vials of Elian’s blood. Julian had stood in the doorway the entire time, his arms crossed, his gaze hard and unreadable. He hadn’t spoken a word of comfort; he simply watched the needle slide into Elian's vein as if he were observing a lab experiment rather than the man who had once shared his bed."The results will be ready by tomorrow morning," the doctor had muttered, packing his leather bag.That night was the longest of Elian’s life. He lay in the small, drafty servant’s quarters he’d been relegated to, staring at the ceiling. He knew the truth. He knew the child he carried was Julian’s. But in this house, truth was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the weight of Julian’s doubt and Valentina’s whispers.

The seventh month arrived with a heatwave that made the air in the manor thick and suffocating. For Elian, it felt as though the very walls were closing in, tightening around him like the seams of his worn servant’s clothes. His body was reaching its limit. The sharp kicks from within were more frequent now, a constant, rhythmic drumming against his ribs that served as both a comfort and a terrifying reminder: time was bleeding away.Julian had stopped speaking to him entirely. It wasn't just the coldness of a stranger anymore; it was the erasure of a ghost. When Julian walked through a room Elian was cleaning, he would step around him without a glance, as if Elian were merely a piece of furniture that had been misplaced.The psychological toll was worse than the labor. Elian would spend his nights huddled on the thin mattress in his room, clutching his stomach and whispering to the child Julian refused to acknowledge. "He'll see," Elian would murmur, his voice cracking in the dark. "

The shadows of the hallway offered no sanctuary. As Elian turned to flee, his foot caught on the edge of a runner, and the heavy thud of his stumble alerted them."Elian?" Marco’s voice was a low, predatory growl.Panic surged through Elian’s veins, providing a brief, flickering burst of adrenaline that ignored his swollen joints. He scrambled toward the stairs, but he was eight months pregnant and exhausted; he didn't stand a chance. Marco’s hand clamped onto his shoulder like a vice, spinning him around."You should really learn to stop eavesdropping," Marco hissed, his fingers digging into Elian’s bruised skin. Valentina caught up, her face twisted in a mask of pure malice. They began to struggle, Marco trying to force Elian back into the dark corner of the library to silence him.Then, the heavy front doors swung open.Julian stepped into the foyer, his coat dusted with the night’s mist, his eyes tired. He froze at the sight of the scuffle.In an instant, Valentina’s face transfor

The rhythmic, sterile beep of the heart monitor was the only sound that broke the oppressive silence of Private Suite 402. Outside the panoramic window, the city skyline was a blur of gray rain and concrete, but inside, the world had shrunk to the stark white bed and the pale, unmoving man resting upon it.Elian looked fragile, almost translucent against the bleached cotton sheets. The bruising from his brutal fall at the manor had bloomed into deep shades of purple and indigo against his ghostly skin, and the harsh hospital lights caught the faint glints of frostbite healing along the tips of his fingers. He was hooked up to a labyrinth of clear plastic tubing, a ventilator rising and falling with a mechanical, rhythmic hiss that artificially kept his lungs expanding.He was in a deep, unresponsive coma.The emergency cesarean section had been a chaotic, terrifying success. The surgeons had managed to deliver a tiny, fragile boy pale but fighting at exactly thirty-two weeks. But the