Chapter 41 #2
"A baby!" She's clapping. Actually clapping. "Two grandchildren! Nora and now—two babies! Bruno, you're giving me a grandchild!"
She rushes around the table, nearly knocking over a wine glass. Carmela tries to steady her, but Aria is unstoppable.
She reaches Antonella and pulls her into a crushing embrace.
"My daughter," Aria says, crying and laughing at the same time. "My beautiful daughter. You're giving me a grandchild."
Antonella looks at me over my mother's shoulder. Her eyes are wet. She's smiling.
"I told you she'd be happy," she mouths.
I watch my mother hold my wife. Watch my family rise from their seats, gathering around us. Congratulations and laughter and tears mixing together in a chaos I would have hated six months ago.
Now it feels like home.
Antonella
I watch Aria embrace Bruno, her small frame barely reaching his chest. She's crying and laughing, switching between Italian and English so fast I can barely follow.
"My son," she keeps saying. "My beautiful son. A father. You're going to be a father."
Bruno's arms wrap around her. He looks uncomfortable with the attention, but he doesn't pull away. His eyes find mine over her head.
I smile at him.
This is my family now. These people gathered around the dining table with wine glasses and tear-stained cheeks. The Sartoris. The most powerful crime family in Chicago. And somehow, impossibly, mine.
Nora waddles over to me, one hand pressed against her swollen belly. Our children will grow up together.
"How are you feeling?" she asks. "The first trimester is brutal."
"Tired," I admit. "Nauseous. Emotional."
"That sounds about right." She squeezes my hand. "It gets better. Then it gets worse."
I haven't realised it yet. Not really. The pregnancy still feels abstract, like something happening to someone else.
Except once.
In that basement. On that filthy mattress.
That was the moment I became a mother.
Strange, that the worst moment of my life gave me the clearest understanding of what I'm becoming. Strange, that terror and violence showed me something beautiful.
"Antonella." Vittoria appears at my side, her eyes still red from crying. "I'm so happy for you. For both of you."
"Thank you."
"Bruno is different with you." She glances at her brother, who is now being interrogated by Lorenzo about baby names. "He smiles. He laughs. I thought I'd never see that again."
"He was always in there," I say. "He just needed someone to remind him."
Vittoria hugs me.
"Welcome to the family," she whispers. "Officially."
I hug her back. This woman who visited her brother every week even when he screamed at her. Who never gave up on him. Who loved him through his worst moments.
"Thank you for not letting him push you away," I say.
She pulls back. Wipes her eyes again.
"He's my brother. I would have kept coming forever."
Kristen approaches with Lily on her hip. The little girl is half-asleep, her head resting on her mother's shoulder.
"Lily wanted to say goodnight," Kristen says.
Lily lifts her head. Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion.
"Is there really a baby in your tummy?" she asks.
"Yes. A very small one."
"How small?"
I think about what the doctor said. "About the size of a blueberry right now."
Lily's nose wrinkles. "That's tiny."
"It'll get bigger."
"Will it be a boy or a girl?"
"We don't know yet."
"I hope it's a girl," Lily declares. "Boys are gross."
Kristen laughs. "On that note, we're going to bed. Congratulations, Antonella. Really."
I watch them leave. Kristen carrying her daughter, Nico following behind with his hand on the small of her back. A family. Complete and whole.
That will be us soon. Bruno and me and our baby.
I look around the room.
At Bruno.
He's watching me. His eyes track my movements across the room. Even surrounded by his family, even in the middle of celebration, his attention stays fixed on me.
I love being his wife.
The realisation settles into my chest like warmth. Like coming home after a long journey.
I love being Bruno Sartori's wife.
Not because of the money or the power or the protection. Not because of the compound or the staff or the designer clothes. Not even because of the family that has welcomed me with open arms.
I love being his wife because he sees me. And I see him. Because when I was taken, he stood up from his wheelchair and walked into a building full of armed men to bring me home.
Because he loves me.
I cross the room to him.
Bruno reaches for me as soon as I'm close enough. His hand finds my hip, pulling me against his side.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
"Perfect."
"You look tired."
"I am tired." I lean into him. "But I'm happy."
His arm tightens around me. His lips brush my temple.
"Me too," he murmurs. "I didn't think I could be. But I am."
I think about my father. About the possibility of rebuilding something that was broken.
I hope we can. I hope he stays sober. I hope he remembers that he has children who love him, who need him, who haven't given up on him yet.
But if he doesn't—if he falls again—I won't let it destroy me this time.
I have my own family now. My husband. My baby. The Sartoris who have become my brothers and sisters.
I am not alone anymore.
Aria appears beside us, her eyes bright with excitement.
"We need to discuss the nursery," she announces. "I have ideas. Many ideas. Carmela and I have been talking, and we think—"
"Mamma," Bruno interrupts. "She's eight weeks pregnant. We have time."
"Time flies! Before you know it, the baby will be here and nothing will be ready. We need to plan. We need to prepare. We need—"
"We need to let Antonella rest," Bruno says firmly. "She's been through enough."
Aria's expression softens. She reaches up to cup my cheek.
"Of course. Of course. Rest, my daughter. We'll talk tomorrow."
She kisses my forehead. Then Bruno's. Then she's gone, pulling Carmela toward the kitchen to discuss colour schemes.
Bruno shakes his head.
"She's going to be insufferable for the next months."
"She's excited."
"She's insane."
"She loves you."
He sighs. "I know."
I rest my head against his shoulder. The room buzzes with conversation around us. Laughter and voices and the clink of glasses.
My family.
I close my eyes and let the happiness wash over me.
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