Page 77 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

I laughed with him. We stayed like that, listening to my belly like two idiots, as if the forming baby was actually answering us.

"Thank you, Elena."

Dante squeezed my hand tight. "I imagined it so many times—what my wife and child would be like. But whenever I thought of Salvador and Isabella's marriage, I felt nothing but resistance and fear. You changed that. You and this baby gave me hope for the future. I know I can be a good husband and a good father."

His voice was firm, like a solemn vow.

And all I had to do was trust him completely, stand by him, and walk toward our happy future together.

Even with bandages still wrapped around him, we laced our fingers together, sharing smiles only we understood. Sunlight broke through the clouds outside, spilling across the edge of the bed, across our joined hands—like some silent promise.

We both believed that the future would be happy.

Dante's injury needed rest,but he couldn't sit still.

By the third day, he'd turned his hospital room into an office. Laptop balanced on his legs, phone calls one after another. Marco and company staff streamed in and out, files coming in by the stack, going out by the stack. I sat there stunned.

I perched on the sofa beside him, peeling an apple. When I finished the whole thing, I held it to his mouth.

Dante took a bite without looking up, eyes still locked on his screen.

"Can't you lie down and heal?" I worried about him.

"Can't sign contracts lying down." He swallowed the bite and reached toward me. "Feed me another."

I felt both annoyed and amused. I shoved the rest of the apple into his hand. "Eat it yourself."

"Tastes sweeter when you feed me."

"Sweet talker," I said, but still picked up another apple from the fruit bowl and started peeling.

The doctor made rounds every morning.

Dante treated everyone with cool detachment, except when the doctor examined my belly. Then he zeroed in, staring holes into the doctor's back, constantly interrupting with questions.

"At this stage, what's normal for fetal movement?"

"She tossed and turned a lot last night. Is something wrong?"

"Can we schedule another ultrasound?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses and patiently answered every question.

As he left, he finally couldn't help adding, "Mr. Moretti, your wife is perfectly healthy. The baby's thriving. If you're still worried, take walks with her. A happy mother is the best medicine."

Dante listened, and for once didn't argue. He nodded seriously.

On the fourth day, Maggie came.

She called first, voice tight with worry. "Elena, you and Dante... you're hurt? I saw the news. What happened?"

I spent half the call calming her down, insisting we were fine, the baby was fine. Only then did she relax a little. When I hung up, Dante leaned back against the headboard and raised an eyebrow.

"Your mom's coming?"

"Yeah." I glanced at him. "She needs to see for herself."

Dante looked almost uncomfortable. He glanced down at his hospital gown, then touched his jaw. "Should I change?"