"Everything looks excellent," he assured us during our final appointment, helping Sophie sit up after her examination. "The baby is in perfect position, good size, and your blood pressure remains normal. You're ready."
Sophie squeezed my hand, relief evident in her face. Despite our careful preparations and the doctor's confidence, I knew she'd been worried. Neither of us took safety for granted anymore.
"Any day now," Dr. Martinez continued, making notes in Sophie's file. "Though first babies often take their time. Don't rush to the clinic with the first contraction—wait until they're regular and about five minutes apart."
I nodded, mentally reviewing the route to the clinic, alternative routes, and security measures I'd implemented. Old habits.
Sophie caught my expression and smiled knowingly. "He's calculating escape routes again," she told the doctor.
Dr. Martinez laughed. "Most new fathers do. Though usually they're planning routes to the hospital, not escape strategies."
If he only knew.
We drove home along the coastal road, windows down to catch the sea breeze. Sophie was quiet, her hand resting on her belly, her gaze on the endless blue of the ocean.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked, reaching across to take her hand.
"How different everything is from what I imagined." She turned to look at me. "A year ago, I was planning to disappear with evidence against your brother. Now, I'm having your baby in Portugal."
"Regrets?" I kept my voice neutral, though the question was anything but.
She shook her head. "Not one. This is exactly where I'm supposed to be."
That evening, we walked along our private stretch of beach as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Sophie had insisted on these daily walks, claiming they helped with the discomfort of late pregnancy.I suspected she also cherished these quiet moments together before our lives changed forever.
She wore one of my shirts over her bathing suit, the white fabric billowing around her in the breeze. Her hair had lightened from the sun, streaks of gold now running through the red. Her skin was freckled and tanned—so different from the pale woman I'd first encountered in that rainy alley.
We found our usual spot, a smooth rock outcropping where we could sit comfortably and watch the sunset. I helped her settle, then sat behind her, my legs on either side of hers, my chest supporting her back.
"I never get tired of this view," she murmured as the sky began to bleed orange and pink.
I pressed a kiss to her temple. "Neither do I."
We sat in comfortable silence as the sun dipped lower, painting the water in impossible colors. Sophie leaned more heavily against me, her breathing deep and content.
Then suddenly, she stiffened, her hand gripping my arm with surprising strength.
"Vittorio," she whispered, her voice tight. "I think it's time."
I froze, my mind racing through possibilities. "Are you sure? Dr. Martinez said first babies usually—"
"I'm sure," she interrupted, shifting uncomfortably. "My water just broke."
As if confirming her words, a contraction visibly tightened her belly under my hands. She inhaled sharply, her fingers digging into my arm.
"Breathe through it," I murmured, falling back on the instructions from the books we'd read together. "That's it, just breathe."
When the contraction passed, I helped her to her feet, supporting her weight as we began the walk back to the house. She moved slowly, pausing twice more for contractions before we reached the villa.
"They're still far apart," she said as we entered the cool interior. "We have time."
I nodded, already mentally checking off the preparations we'd made. Hospital bag by the door. Car keys in my pocket. Phone charged. Routes memorized.
Sophie placed her hand on my cheek, drawing my attention back to her face. "Marcus. Vittorio," she said softly. "We're about to become parents."
The realization hit me with unexpected force. In all my years as Vittorio Ricci, I'd been many things—son, brother, soldier, Capo, Underboss, and Don. I'd killed men and commanded empires. I'd built fortunes and destroyed lives.
But this—this was different. This was the most important transformation of all.
