When I woke up, the doctor told me the baby had not survived.The room in the private hospital was very quiet. Outside the window the Hudson lay gray, and the monitors beeped at even intervals."About nine weeks along," the doctor said. "The gunshot didn't hit the uterus directly, but the shock and the blood loss caused the miscarriage."I stared at the ceiling and did not cry.The doctor opened an older file."There was already serious damage from the accident five years ago. After this, the chance of conceiving naturally again will be lower still."Five years ago I had lost a child too.Dante was not Don yet then.To find the witness Marco had bought off, I deliberately drew away the car tailing us and was hit on an overpass in Queens.When I woke, Dante was on his knees at the side of the bed, holding my hand, crying for a long time.He promised he would end the fighting and give me a safe home, and promised he would never let me be hurt because of him again.I never told him that t
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