Chapter 44 Marco
MARCO
Beep… Beep… Beep.
The sound pierces through the darkness, dragging me up from somewhere deep. The first thing I register is pain. A deep, throbbing ache radiates from every cell in my body. I try to open my eyes, but they feel heavy, like they're glued shut.
When I finally manage, harsh fluorescent light stabs my retinas. Everything's blurry, like I'm underwater.
Where am I? What the hell happened?
I try to move my arm, but tubes and wires hold me down. Panic rises in my throat. I groan, the sound rough.
"Mr. Bonventi?" A woman's voice, gentle but professional. "Can you hear me?"
"Water," I call out. My throat feels like sandpaper.
She brings a small cup with a straw to my lips.
"Try not to move too much. I'm going to get the doctor."
I try to piece together what happened, but my mind is sluggish. I remember the election. I won. I was giving a speech, and then…
"Mr. Bonventi," a voice says. I turn slightly to see a man walk in, wearing a white coat. "I'm Dr. Kleiman. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been hit by a truck," I mutter. "What happened?"
Dr. Kleiman's expression turns serious. "You were shot, Mr. Bonventi. Multiple times, in fact."
The memories come flooding back. The podium. The flashing cameras. The sudden, searing pain in my chest.
"Remarkable," he says, checking something on the monitors. "Simply remarkable. We lost you twice on the operating table. We weren't sure you'd make it through that first night."
I try to process this information, but it feels surreal. Like I'm watching a movie about someone else's life.
"A miracle, some would say. I don't use the word lightly," he says, looking over my chest, "but in this case, it's appropriate."
"How long have I been here?" I ask.
"You've been in an induced coma for four days," he replies. "We brought you out of it yesterday, but this is the first time you've been fully conscious."
Four days. Christ.
"You're lucky to have such a great support system.
Your brothers have been here constantly, and your fiancée," Dr. Kleiman's expression softens.
"That woman hasn't left the waiting room except for a brief fainting spell.
Stress and trauma, I imagine. We made an exception to let her see you briefly last night. "
"Alina," I say, my voice still rough. "My fiancée. She's here?"
"Oh yes, she's quite devoted," Dr. Kleiman says with a smile. "A keeper, if you don't mind me saying."
"Can I see her?"
"Let's see how you're doing in a couple of hours. If your vitals remain stable, we'll consider it. But remember, Mr. Bonventi, you need to rest," he says and walks out.
I nod, ignoring the pain. Please. God. I need to see her. Need to apologize. Need to tell her she was the only thing I thought about that entire day until I blacked out.
However long later, Dr. Kleiman pops his head back in. "You're doing well, Mr. Bonventi. I'll send your family in now. But please, take it easy. You're still in critical condition. No excitement."
I close my eyes, picturing Alina's face. Her smile. The way her eyes light up when she laughs.
I made a mistake. A big one. But I'm alive, against all odds. And she's still here.
I have a second chance. And this time, I won't waste it.
The door creaks open, and they file in one by one. Gio first, then Enzo, Livia, and finally, Alina. Her face is pale, dark circles under her eyes, but she's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Jesus, brother," Gio says, breaking the heavy silence. "You look like shit."
A surprised laugh bursts from my throat, quickly followed by a groan of pain. "Fuck you, Gio."
The room erupts in laughter, a collective release of the fear and anxiety that's been hanging over them for days. Alina's laugh is soft, almost hesitant, but it's there.
"Someone want to tell me what happened?" I ask, shifting slightly, wincing at the pain that shoots through my chest. "Last thing I remember, I was giving my victory speech."
Enzo steps forward, his face grim. "Some Russian fuck tried to take you out. Right there on stage, in front of everyone."
"Chaos erupted," Livia adds, her hand finding Enzo's. "People were screaming, running. Your brother Gio here killed the man."
I nod, trying to take it all in. My eyes find Alina, standing silently at the foot of my bed. She's hugging herself, like she's trying to hold herself together.
"My hero, Gio," I say, smiling.
He waves his hand. "Don't mention it, little brother. Just try not to make it a habit of getting shot."
"I'll try not to."
"Oh, the press is having a field day," Livia says, rolling her eyes. "Alina and I were looking over the news. They're calling it a failed assassination attempt by an extremist political opponent. Nothing like getting shot to make people sympathetic."
"The things I go through for my constituents," I say, laughing.
Alina makes a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob.
"Come here," I say softly.
The nickname breaks something in her. She takes two steps forward before stopping, tears streaming down her face.
"I should have been there," she says.
"No," I say firmly, despite the pain in my chest. "If you had…" I can't finish the thought. The idea of Alina being hurt brings on too much rage.
"I'm going to get some coffee," Livia says suddenly, catching my eye. "Enzo? Gio?"
They take the hint, filing out quietly. Livia pauses to hug me, whispering, "You'll never find another like her," in my ear before following the others.
The door shuts, leaving just me and Alina together.
"I thought I'd lost you," she says, her voice breaking. "There was so much blood, and you weren't moving…"
"Come here," I say again, and this time she does, practically falling into the chair beside my bed. I reach for her hand, ignoring the pull of the IV lines.
"I'm sorry," we both say at the same time, and despite everything, I find myself smiling.
I take Alina's hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin as if it's for the first time.
"I was so stupid," she whispers, her voice cracking. "So fucking stupid."
I try to squeeze her hand, but my strength isn't there yet. "Alina—"
"No, please, Marco. Let me explain." She takes a shaky breath, her free hand fidgeting with the edge of the hospital blanket. "I continued to meet with Sandra because I thought I could help. You believed in me when no one else did, and I—I wanted to prove I deserved that faith. It was reckless."
She stops and takes a deep breath.
"I wanted to make sure I was the person you thought I was. I wanted to do what it took because I wanted you to win."
I want to pull her into my arms, to comfort her, but the pain in my chest reminds me of my limitations. Instead, I run my thumb over her knuckles, a silent gesture of support.
"When Sandra approached me, offered me that job, I was going to tell her to fuck off.
But then I thought, what if I could get information?
What if I could find out what she was planning, who was backing her?
What she was going to do?" Alina's words come faster now, as if she's afraid I'll stop her before she can get it all out.
"I convinced myself I was doing it for you, for us.
But the truth is, I was blinded by my own ambition, my own need to prove myself, something I've struggled with since I was young. "
I listen, my jaw clenching as I think about how close I came to losing everything. How close I came to losing her.
"I kept telling myself it was just one more meeting, just one more chance to gather intel.
But with each meeting, I was digging myself deeper into a hole I couldn't climb out of.
" Alina's voice breaks, and she has to take a moment to compose herself.
"And then I stopped. Ignored her, and she got the message.
I know because I think when that man came to kill me, it was because she knew I wasn't leaving you.
And then, when you found out… God, Marco, the look on your face.
I realized then how badly I'd fucked up, how I'd betrayed your trust."
"Alina," I start, but she shakes her head, silencing me.
"I put everything at risk. And for what? To prove I was smart enough? Cunning enough? I don't even know anymore."
I take a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain it causes. "I was angry. Hurt. I felt betrayed. But that entire day, up until the moment I blacked out. Heck, even now that I've regained consciousness, do you know what I thought about?"
Alina shakes her head, her eyes never leaving mine.
"You," I say simply. "Your smile. Your laugh. The way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating, or how your hands flow across the strings of your harp. I thought about all the time I've wasted, all the moments we could have had."
I pause, gathering my thoughts. "We've both made mistakes, Alina. We've both let our ambitions, our fears, our insecurities get in the way of what really matters."
"And what's that?" she asks.
"Us," I reply, squeezing her hand. "This. What we have together. Maybe it's not perfect, it's not easy, but it's real. And I'm not ready to give up on it. Are you?"
Alina shakes her head and kisses my hand. "No," she says firmly. "No, I'm not ready to give up. I love you, Marco. I love you so much it scares me sometimes."
I smile, ignoring the pain that shoots through my body as I try to shift closer to her. "Then we start over. Clean slate. No more secrets. Just us, figuring this out together. What do you say, Firefly?"
She nods, a watery smile breaking across her face. "Yes, I'd like that."
I pull her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. "Good," I murmur. "Because I love you too, Alina. And I'm not letting you go that easily. It'll be the two of us forever."
"Well, about that," Alina says, her voice uneasy.
I feel my heart skip a beat. "What is it?"
She sits up straight and brushes the hair out of her face. "Well, I didn't envision it like this. First, I was going to congratulate you, Mr. Senator, on your win. And then I was…"
"What?" I ask, anxiety rising.
"Marco, I…" She stops and clears her throat. "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."
The words hit me like a freight train. For a moment, I can't breathe. Can't think. The world narrows down to Alina's face, to the tears glistening in her eyes.
"You're… we're…" I stammer, unable to form a coherent sentence. My mind is reeling.
Alina nods, smiling. "I was going to tell you on election night, but then all that happened. Anyway, it doesn't matter. You're going to be a father."
"Shit," I say, the word just coming out. Me, Marco Bonventi, the man who's spent his life navigating the dangerous waters of politics and family business, is going to be responsible for a tiny, innocent life.
"You're not… you're not angry, are you?" Alina asks.
"Angry?" I shake my head. "No. I'm terrified. I'm excited. But angry? Never."
I want to pull her in, but I can't. "I just…I'm going to be a dad."
She nods, tears streaming down her face. "I was so scared," she says. "When you were shot, all I could think was that you might never know. That our child might never know you."
The thought sends a chill through me. I think about my own father, about the complicated legacy he left behind. I think about the life I've led, the choices I've made. I vow to be better, to do better for my unborn child.
"I'm here," I tell her. "I'm not going anywhere, Alina. You hear me? We're in this together."
Then the door opens, and Livia sticks her head in. "All—"
I cut her off. "I'm going to be a dad," I yell.
"What the—" Livia says and pushes open the door, Enzo and Gio behind her. "Are you serious?"
"As serious as being shot," I say, laughing. "Oh damn, it hurts to laugh."
"Oh my God, congratulations," Livia says.
"Our baby brother having a baby of his own," Gio says. "Unbelievable."
Livia looks at Gio. "Well, first Enzo, then Marco. That leaves you, Gio."
We all laugh.
"I'm too wild to be tamed," Gio says, brushing his shoulders in a playful manner.
"We'll see about that," Livia says.
Alina squeezes my hand, and I catch her wiping away tears with her free hand. The sight of her now, knowing she's carrying my child, fills me with a fierce protectiveness I've never experienced before.
"Alright, alright," Enzo says, his usually stern face softened by a rare smile. "We're on our way out. Let's give the happy couple some space. Marco needs his rest."
They file out, Gio pausing at the door. "I'm glad you're okay, brother."
I nod, and he shuts the door.
I turn back to Alina. "Come lay next to me," I say, carefully shifting to make space beside me on the bed.
"Marco, I don't want to hurt you—"
"You won't. Please."
She carefully settles beside me, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close despite the dull ache in my chest.
"Nothing about us has been straightforward, Firefly. But it's been perfect anyway."
She laughs softly. "Even the getting shot part?"
"Well, maybe not that," I admit, pressing a kiss to her temple. "But everything else? The campaign, you, this baby? I wouldn't change any of it."
We lie there in comfortable silence, my hand finding its way to her still-flat stomach. In this quiet moment, everything else falls away—the Russians, Sandra, all of it. I'll focus on my revenge later. Right now, it's just us and the miraculous future we've created together.