Clean up and cover up. It was what we did. I didn’t even want to know what stops Dante had to pull out and how deep into the family pockets he had to dig to make sure this shit show flew as far under the radar as possible.
“There’ll be some questions. There was another body in the stables. I assume it was Franco’s, but we haven’t had confirmation yet.” I didn’t need confirmation. I’d seen Franco murdered in front of me. “I’ll call Jason and let him know you’re awake. He’ll prep you for everything. Tell you what you need to say.”
There was never a moment that we weren’t ‘on’. I’d just woken up after surgery and was already being told the next steps to ensure our survival. The moment I’d shot Xavier, the moment I’d placed Luc at the head of the family and dragged myself up there with him, everything in my life, every decision I would ever make would be about them and keeping them safe.
My head felt heavy and foggy, and I hoped Jason would break it down into the most basic blocks. I didn’t worry about looking like a complete idiot in front of our attorney. I worried about the fact that if I said the wrong thing, I could land us all in a bigger mess. I’d done enough damage to last a lifetime.
I sat silently in the bed as the anaesthesia slowly wore off. Dante spoke softly, trying to fill me in on where everyone was and what they were doing. He hadn’t asked about what happened. He didn’t breathe a word about what they’d found after Dom took charge of me. He was being exceptionally careful to keep the conversation as stress free as possible. I would’ve appreciated it if I could focus properly on any of the words that came out of his mouth. Instead, my brain kept circling back to one thing.
“Will you ask Lydia to bring Link in?” I asked, cutting across his sentence. Even though I knew my son was safe with Lydia, I wanted to see him and hold him. I wanted physical contact because I wasn’t sure that my soul could rest until Link was with me. I needed to apologise to him for being unable to go to him when he cried.
“Mia, don’t you want to wait a few days? Give yourself some time to recover.”
“No,” I told him bluntly. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to see my son. My small piece of perfection in the hell I was living through.
Dante sighed and relented. “I can bring him in for you tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“I think it’d be better for you to rest, Mia. Let the doctor take a look at you and see you’re doing alright. Link is safe. I promise you that.”
A knock on the door cut through the argument and made us look over to see a nervous doctor standing there with a file in hand.
“Miss Griffin?” he said, eyes flicking between myself and Dante and I realised why he was nervous. Every doctor and nurse involved in helping me and Luc get back to good health had probably been given discreet instructions and a hefty bonus slipped into their back pocket. No questions to be asked. The best care to be given.
He introduced himself as Dr Rowlands and looked at his file the entire time he spoke, consulting his notes as he recapped the surgery and what my recovery held — a few days to weeks for skin grafts to heal, and much longer for the physiotherapy with my shoulder. As he checked me over, I felt my energy wane and my head throb.
“I have no clue what you got yourself involved in,” he mumbled as he finished and stepped away from the bed, but we caught it.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Dante said coldly.
Dr Rowland looked up and paled considerably. “Of course. I just meant that—”
“Was there anything else?” Dante asked him, business persona coming to the forefront. I was too tired to tell him to be nice. For once, I was happy to let him take the lead however he saw fit.
“I... actually, yes, Miss Griffin.” The doctor looked up from his notes again. “There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you.” His eyes flicked over to Dante. “You may want some privacy.” I wasn’t sure he wanted me to have privacy so much as he wanted Dante to leave the room to allow him to breathe.
My stomach knotted and I reached a hand towards Dante and realised that both my hands were bandaged and pulled it back towards me. Dante offered a smile, placing his hand on my knee, giving me comfort in a different form. Something bad was coming and I didn’t want to be alone for the news. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep myself together without support.
“He can stay,” I told the doctor. “He’s my brother.”
Dr Rowlands nodded slowly and hugged the file to his chest. For the first time, I noticed how young he was, probably just starting to specialise. He’d been sent in by those higher up with the unfortunate task of checking in and delivering the bad news. He was at the front of the firing line, but he didn’t need to worry. I didn’t have the energy to fight.
“As I said, the surgery went well but your blood work came back with a positive result. There was a protein level that was elevated; hCG. I’m not sure if you were aware.” My jaw dropped at the words he’d spoken. Of all the things I’d expected this doctor to tell me, that had been the last thing on my mind. “We asked if there was any possibility of pregnancy before taking you in for surgery, but they said no. Considering everything you’ve been through, we’d like to run a few more tests and monitor you,” Dr Rowlands reeled off, but Dante cut in.
“Sorry, Doc.” Dante was back to being as sweet as sugar. “I’m not following. What’s an hCG level? Does she need more surgery?” His hand gripped my knee a fraction tighter.
The doctor flushed red, unsure of himself and whether he’d delivered the news correctly. “Sorry. I... what that means,” he backtracked. I didn’t blame him. The family had a way of intimidating people with few words and making you trip over yourself. You felt underqualified for a job you’d trained for, all because of a single look.
I’d understood though. I knew what he was trying to tell us. “No,” I told Dante gently and turned my head to look at him. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered, not daring to believe it. Things still felt fuzzy and thick and the doctor hadn’t exactly said the words so I could be wrong. I turned back to the young doctor. “Are you sure? Do you know how far along?” I was sure he’d correct me and tell me I needed more rest and he’d come back to talk to me later.
“Judging by the numbers, we’d estimate six or seven weeks,” he replied.
I choked on a sob as the reality hit me. I hadn’t made it up. I hadn’t jumped to conclusions. There was no other explanation for the test result. In the fogginess of my brain one thought stood out clearly. There was no way that I was going to be able to carry this pregnancy to term after everything we’d just been through.
“We’ll want to get an ultrasound done as soon as possible to check everything is okay,” Dr Rowland said. “If that’s something you’ll allow us to do.” I looked up at him and bit down on my lip hard before nodding. “I’ll get that sorted and send for some other tests. In the meantime, if you have any cramping or bleeding or discomfort, please let someone know as soon as you can.”
“Thank you,” I whispered out the words, and he left hastily.
