The Don's Legal Eagle's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance

23. Griselda

In those hectic days when Emilio was deep in his plans to deal with the Mancini family, I found myself spending a lot of time alone. The apartment felt empty without him, and it was hard not to worry about the future constantly.

One day, as I sat on the couch, a wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. I tried to brush it off, blaming it on the stress that had become my regular companion. I hadn’t been feeling like myself for a couple of days.

At first, I attributed it to being cooped up in the silent penthouse every day. I was used to working hard at the firm, keeping my mind occupied. Here, there was too much empty time, just begging to be filled with stress, fear, and worry.

Emilio’s safety had consumed my mind, the dangers that seemed to close in on us with each passing day. The constant state of alert and dread had taken a toll on my physical well-being. Feeling queasy had become a part of my daily existence, and although I”d tried to push through it, the persistent discomfort left me drained.

Each day spent in the penthouse without Emilio was a day filled with anxiety, and my longing for his safe return was only eclipsed by my overwhelming relief when he came home unharmed.

I couldn”t help but wonder, though, if this amount of nausea were truly just a result of heightened stress and anxiety. I wasn”t just concerned for my own sake; Emilio was walking a treacherously dangerous path. The perils that encircled our lives were as much his burden as they were mine.

Andrea, who I only recently found out was a doctor, popped by to drop off medical supplies for Emilio. Emilio was held up somewhere, so Andrea was running late, adding to the slight chaos of the moment.

We were knee-deep in discussions about bandages and medications when my stomach churned again, making me feel queasy and off. Andrea noticed my discomfort and paused, concern written all over his face.

”You feeling alright?” he asked, genuine worry in his voice.

I managed a weak smile, ”Yeah, just the stress, I think.”

But Andrea, with his medical instincts, wasn”t convinced.

”If you”re not feeling good, it”s important to take care of yourself,” he insisted. Andrea, being the ever-attentive doctor, wasn”t one to take health lightly. ”You”re sure it”s not a bug?”

I tried to reassure both him and myself. ”Yeah, it”s just a minor discomfort, probably nothing.”

Andrea could see through my feeble attempt at a smile. He paused, no longer interested in our discussion about medical supplies.

”Nothing, huh?” he echoed, not buying it entirely.

I chuckled nervously, ”Yeah, you know, dealing with my uprooted life and all that entails. It can be a bit overwhelming.”

But Andrea was now in full doctor mode. He pressed on, ”You”ve been feeling this way for a couple of days?” His voice sounded all professional; gone was the friendly banter.

I hesitated. Andrea was a doctor, after all. Being honest with him was probably a good idea. I gave in to his questioning. ”Yeah, it started a few days back.”

His frown deepened, a clear indication that this was concerning him more than he was letting on.

”Griselda,” he said gently, ”I think you should see a doctor. It could be a big or something more serious.”

My stomach rebelled violently, the queasiness escalating into a full-blown upheaval. Panic clawed its way up my throat as I dashed for the kitchen sink, not a second to spare. The world around me blurred momentarily as waves of nausea crashed over me.

I reached the sink just in time, the sound of retching filling the air. My entire body seemed to convulse, expelling whatever had caused this sudden discomfort. The taste was bitter and acrid.

Every heave is a stark reminder of my body”s distress. My eyes watered, and I could feel my face flushing, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort.

Andrea, right beside me, must have felt the tension and worry in the air. He put a comforting hand on my back, patting it gently.

”Take it easy,” he murmured, his voice laced with empathy.

After what felt like an eternity, the heaving subsided. I stayed bent over the sink, catching my breath, my forehead resting against the cool surface. The ordeal had left me weak and shaky, but there was a peculiar relief, too, as if something that had been bothering me had been expelled, if only temporarily.

I turned on the tap, rinsing my mouth to rid it of the lingering taste. My thoughts were a jumble of confusion and concern. What was happening to me? This was definitely more than just stress, and it didn’t present like any stomach bug I’ve had before.

Andrea offered me a glass of water, his face a mix of compassion and worry.

”You should get this checked out,” he advised gently, concern etched in his eyes.

I took the water gratefully, nodding slightly. He was right, and I knew it. I took a few sips, still feeling weak and uneasy.

Andrea, with a determined look, said firmly, ”We”re going to the hospital.”

I hesitated, I didn’t want to be more of a burden to Emilio than I already was.

”Okay, but promise me you won”t tell Emilio yet,” I requested, my concern for Emilio battling with my concern for my health.

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical, ”Why keep it from him?”

I took a breath, attempting to explain, ”I don”t want him to worry unnecessarily. Let”s first confirm if it”s serious or not. If it is, I promise I”ll tell him.”

He scrutinized me for a moment, assessing my sincerity. I could sense his internal conflict about hiding something from Emilio. Finally, he relented, ”Alright, but we”re going.”

With a sense of urgency, we made our way out of the apartment. As we rounded the corner, my heart raced, anticipating the encounter with the guards. I knew they would object; I expected it. I had seen firsthand how they operated and how dedicated they were to enforcing security.

And sure enough, as we approached the building”s entrance, the guards stepped forward, firm and resolute. ”I”m sorry, miss,” one of them began, ”but you can”t leave for your safety.”

Andrea, however, was prepared. He spoke up, maintaining an air of authority, ”She”s not feeling well, and I”m taking her to my private hospital. It”s necessary.”

I watched as a flicker of doubt crossed the guards” faces. It was a delicate gamble, but Andrea pressed on, taking a chance.

”I”ve already informed Emilio. Can”t you see how pale she looks?” I hadn”t realized how exhausted I was until he pointed it out.

Andrea”s words seemed to sway them, hesitance still clouding their expressions.

”Are you willing to take responsibility if anything happens to her?” He added, his voice laced with urgency.

The two guards exchanged uncertain glances, clearly grappling with the situation”s gravity. After a few more tense seconds, they reluctantly moved aside, allowing us to pass. Relief washed over me, mingled with surprise at the unexpected success of this ruse.

I tried my best to conceal my astonishment as we walked past the guards and stepped into the elevator. Andrea, beside me, wore a wry grin.

As we made our way to the hospital, I found myself appreciating Andrea more and more. His concern felt genuine, and his determination to ensure my well-being was both sweet and reassuring. The dynamics of our situation were strange, to say the least, but Andrea”s presence made it a bit more manageable.

Andrea expertly maneuvered the car through the city”s streets, a sleek black Mercedes-Benz gleaming under the city lights. Its elegance and sophistication were hard to miss, a testament to Andrea”s success.

The contrast between my humble origins and the world he lived in was stark, and yet he made an effort to bridge that gap to help me navigate this unfamiliar territory.

As we drove, the queasiness resurfaced, not as intense as before, but enough to remind me of my discomfort. I pressed my hand against my stomach, silently grateful that the waves of nausea didn”t escalate.

The last thing I wanted was to make a mess in this grand car. Who knew, maybe it even was one of Royalty Rentals’ special editions.

As Andrea guided me through the posh hallways of his hospital, I couldn”t help but be impressed by the elegance of the place and the friendly efficiency of the staff. It was a far cry from the often hectic and crowded public hospitals I was used to.

Each step of the process, from registering to the tests to the consultations, was well-organized and went as smoothly as could be expected, thanks to Andrea”s presence and expertise.

It was an eye-opener, showing me how different life could be with the right connections and resources. The quick and personalized attention was a luxury I had rarely experienced.

I found myself wondering if this was the everyday reality for the wealthy. A life where connections and status smoothed out the rough edges, granting access to a world of ease and privilege. It made me ponder if I was prepared for such a lifestyle, one that was so far removed from my own.

After the tests were done, Andrea drove me back to the penthouse, a precaution to avoid any suspicion if Emilio returned before me. It was a prudent move to keep my secret under wraps. Although, I could see the whole cloak and dagger thing bothered Andrea. His loyalty to his friend was endearing.

I had barely settled back into the apartment, the memory of the posh medical facility still fresh in my mind, when my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I noticed it was my mother. We hadn”t spoken in a while, so I immediately picked up, a mix of curiosity and concern tugging at me.

”Hello, Mom,” I greeted, attempting to mask the surprise in my voice.

”Griselda, sweetheart, I need to talk to you about something very important,” my mother began, her tone somber and urgent.

”Of course, Mom. What”s going on?” I asked, instinctively leaning against the kitchen counter.

”Someone came asking about your father,” she revealed, her voice tinged with worry. ”They seemed dangerous, and I”m afraid your life might be in danger.”

A surge of fear and confusion shot through me. I had come to grips with my life being threatened because of my involvement with Emilio. But my father? I had grown up believing he was no longer in the picture. ”What do you mean, Mom? Dad is —”

”He”s alive, Griselda,” she interrupted, her voice shaking with emotion. ”There are things I”ve kept from you, things I need to explain. But for now, could you stay safe and trust me? Don”t come back from holiday until I say it”s okay.”

The shock from her words momentarily stunned me. Was my father alive? Dangerous people were inquiring about him? Why would my life possibly be in jeopardy? It felt like a whirlwind of revelations, a storm brewing on the horizon.

”What do you mean, Mom? I need to know more. I deserve to know what”s happening,” I urged, my mind having gotten through to my vocal cords.

A hurried rustle of breath came through the phone.

”I promise, Griselda, I”ll tell you everything when the coast is clear,” my mother said anxiously, her voice tinged with desperation.

Before I could say another word, the line went dead. She had hung up.

I stood there, staring at my phone, a whirlwind of emotions crashing within me. The abruptness of our conversation left me with more questions than answers. My father, alive? It was a notion that contradicted everything I had believed for years.

My mind buzzed with disbelief, confusion, and worry. The words played on an unending loop in my head. My father was alive. How could this be? Why would my mother keep this from me? The pieces of my reality seemed to crumble, and I struggled to grasp the enormity of what had just been revealed.

I paced the apartment, restless and anxious, running scenarios in my head. What did it mean for me? What did this mean for my mother? The danger that seemed to loom over my life suddenly took on a whole new level of complexity. Was all of this somehow connected to my father”s sudden reappearance?

My thoughts spiraled into a black hole.

Sinking onto the couch, I buried my face in my hands. The person I had believed to be dead was very much alive, and my mother had been keeping this secret, all while evading my questions.