"One more thing," Dr. Chao added, pulling up the ultrasound image again. "Would you like pictures? For your records?"
She handed me printouts—grainy black-and-white images showing two tiny bean-shaped forms. So small. So impossibly fragile.
Our children.
I stared at the images until they blurred with tears.
"Thank you," I managed.
After she left, Alessio took one of the printouts, studied it with that intense focus he brought to everything important.
"They're so tiny," he said, voice rough with wonder. "How is something that small already a person?"
"Two persons. Technically."
"Two persons." He shook his head slowly. "Cristo. We're having two babies, Valentina."
"I know. It's insane."
"It's perfect."
The certainty in his voice steadied something inside me. If he could believe we'd handle this, maybe I could too.
"What happens now?" I asked. "With everything. Marco's arrested, but there's still the trial. Testifying. Witness protection. How do we—"
"One thing at a time." Alessio carefully climbed onto the bed beside me, mindful of IVs and his own injuries. Pulled meagainst his side with infinite gentleness. "Right now, we rest. Tomorrow, we talk to the FBI about next steps. But tonight, we just breathe and remember we survived."
I settled against him, felt his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. Strong. Alive. Real.
"I was so scared I'd lost you," I admitted quietly. "When I saw that hit order on Marco's desk. When I realized he had a sniper waiting for your convoy—"
"But you saved me." His lips pressed to my hair. "You called 911. Warned them. The FBI changed my transport route because of your call—that's why Marco's people had to improvise the ambush instead of the clean shot they'd planned. Your warning gave me a chance to fight back."
I hadn't known that. Hadn't known my desperate 911 call from Marco's study had done anything except bring the police eventually.
"The livestream helped too," I said. "Millions of people calling 911, reporting Marco's location, demanding police response. He couldn't make me disappear quietly with the whole world watching."
"Brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant."
We were quiet for a while, exhaustion pulling at both of us.
Then Alessio's hand moved to my stomach again, settling there like it belonged.
"May," he murmured. "They'll be born in May."
"If everything goes well."
"It will go well." Fierce now, protective. "We'll make sure of it. Whatever you need—rest, medical care, safety, peace—you'll have it. All of it."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He shifted to look at me directly. "Valentina, I believe you."
And I realized, saying it, that I did.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. We'll figure it out."
"We will."
