After wrapping up the last of the company affairs, I checked into the family’s private hospital without delay. This time, with two lives hanging in the balance, I dared not be careless for a single second. My parents moved into the adjacent VIP suite the same day, and Tom took full charge of all external business, shielding me from even the slightest disturbance. My father had the top obstetric team in Europe on 24-hour standby, stationing two nurses outside my door around the clock. My mother spent every waking minute by my side, simmering bone broth in the suite’s kitchen, folding tiny linen onesies stitched with the Bellandi crest, and adjusting the thermostat three times an hour to make sure I was comfortable.One afternoon, she was peeling a pear for me, the knife gliding smoothly through the flesh, when she paused mid-motion. “Ella,” she said, her voice softer than usual, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. What will you do when the baby grows up and asks where their fa
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