Chapter 17
Gemma
Saint doesn't come back to bed. He hasn't slept with me since the night Antonio passed when he found me in the club. I know it's because of what I did, and it should make me angry, but most nights I'm too exhausted to think too much about it.
And honestly, I can't blame him.
The only person I've betrayed was Adrian, and Saint had no issue helping me do that.
And yet, I'm too tired to call him out on his bullshit. And I'm sad. I'm so sad.
I place my hands on my stomach, and I feel something warm unfurl in my chest.
Pregnant.
I'm pregnant.
This should be a happy moment, and yet, my husband is nowhere to be found.
When the first test turned positive, I thought my heart would explode.
The second test showed nothing—just one line.
The third was so faint I had to hold it up to the light, squinting to see if there was anything there at all.
But the first one was clear. Two bright pink lines. Positive.
I wait up, hoping Saint will come back and talk to me. Hold me. Show me a flicker of the man from the beach house.
He doesn't.
I finally fall asleep around four in the morning, alone, one hand pressed to my still-flat stomach.
Please be real. Please let this be the thing that fixes us.
When I wake, he's sitting in the chair by the window. He's fully dressed, and his green eyes are watching me intently.
"Sa—"
"We have a doctor's appointment," he says. No greeting. No warmth. "Nine a.m. Get ready."
I sit up, clutching the comforter. "Saint, we need to talk."
"We need to confirm it." He stands. "I'll be downstairs."
He leaves before I can respond.
I get dressed mechanically. Black jeans and a thick sweater.
The test is still on the nightstand. Two pink lines staring at me like a promise.
Dr. Reeves is a well-known OB-GYN. The kind who delivers mafia and Bratva babies regularly. Hell, I'm sure she delivered both myself and Saint—she's that old.
Yet, the sight of her kind, familiar face does nothing for me. I want to get this over with and go back to bed.
She's waiting for us in her private office, not the clinic. Discretion. Always discretion in our world.
"Mrs. Marini." She shakes my hand formally. "Mr. Marini. Please, sit."
We sit. Saint doesn't touch me. Doesn't even look at me.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stave off the chill.
"I understand we're confirming a pregnancy?" Dr. Reeves pulls out her notes.
"One positive home test," I say quietly. "The other two were...unclear."
She makes a sound in the back of her throat. "And when was your last menstrual period?"
"Seven weeks ago. Maybe eight." I shake my head. "I honestly can't recall." I glance over at Saint. "There's been a lot going on."
This time Saint makes a noise, and I feel myself stiffen.
She nods, and gestures to her nurse who starts to conduct my pre-exam.
"Any symptoms? Nausea, fatigue, breast tenderness?"
"Nausea. Vomiting. For about a week now." I glance at Saint. His face is blank. "I thought it was stress."
"Could be." She draws blood. "We'll run a quantitative hCG test. It measures the exact level of pregnancy hormone. More accurate than home tests."
"How long?" Saint's first words since we arrived.
"An hour. Maybe less." She labels the vials. "I'll put a rush on it."
He nods.
"You two can wait here unless you'd like to go out. There's a delicious bakery next door—"
"We'll wait," Saint says. He settles back in his chair, staring forward, silent.
I want to reach for his hand and say something, but I don't. The distance between us feels insurmountable. Still, I can't sit here for an hour hoping that Saint would come around.
"Saint. About everything—"
"Not now."
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that is brewing inside of me. "When?"
"I don't know, Gemma. When I'm not trying to hold my family together. When I'm not facing a coup. When my wife didn't decide to betray me the first minute, she didn't get what she wanted." His voice is flat. "Pick a time. Any time that's not now."
I close my eyes against the tears that prickle against my eyelids. I refuse to cry right now, but I'm feeling more emotional than normal. I hold back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of Saint. "I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I love you."
He doesn't respond.
The silence is worse than his anger. At least when he's angry, he cares. This…this is horrible.
Finally, Dr. Reeves returns. It's been the longest hour of my life.
Her face is neutral, but I see it immediately. The slight tightness around her eyes. The way she sits down slowly.
"The results are negative," she says gently.
I knew they would be the second I saw her.
"What?" My voice sounds far away.
"Your hCG levels are at 2. Anything under 5 is considered not pregnant." She pulls out the report, shows us numbers that mean nothing to me. "I'm sorry."
"But the test was positive. I saw it—"
"The test you used was likely from a faulty batch. It happens more often than you'd think—manufacturing defects, expired reagents, improper storage." She looks sympathetic.
I can't breathe.
For the last five hours, I had hope. Sweet, desperate hope that maybe this could work. Maybe we could be saved.
False.
All of it, false.
I look at Saint. His face is completely blank. Unreadable.
For just a second, a split second, I see something flicker in his eyes. Pain? Grief? Loss?
Then it's gone. The mask slips back into place.
"I see." His voice is cold. Detached. "Thank you, Doctor."
"I'd like to run some tests," Dr. Reeves continues. "To see if there's an underlying issue preventing conception—"
"That won't be necessary." Saint stands. "We're done here."
I hold back a sob. What is he saying? I bite my lip trying not to sob.
"You're both young and healthy. Seven months of trying isn't unusual, but if you'd like—"
"I said we're done." He looks at me. "Gemma. Let's go."
Five hours ago, I was pregnant. Now I'm not. How does that happen?
"Mrs. Marini?" Dr. Reeves' voice is gentle. "Would you like a moment?"
A moment. Like that would help. Like a moment could fix the fact that I'm broken. That everything's broken.
"No." I stand on shaking legs. "I'm fine."
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Emmanuel drives. Saint stares out the window. I stare at my hands.
Not pregnant.
The words echo in my head.
Not pregnant.
Not useful.
Not worth keeping.
"We can try again," I say finally. My voice cracks. "We can do the testing. Whatever Dr. Reeves suggested. I'll submit to it. Whatever you need—"
"No."
"Saint, please. We can try—"
"There was never a baby, Gemma." His voice is harsh. "It was a faulty test. A mistake. Like everything else between us."
But I hear what he's not saying: If there had been a baby, maybe we could have been saved.
"Even if you got pregnant tomorrow, it wouldn't matter now. The damage is done."
"I don't understand—"
"The captains met three days ago. Tomorrow, they vote officially. Marcello will be the new Don by week's end." He says it matter-of-factly. Like he's reporting the weather. "So whether you're pregnant or not, it is irrelevant."
"No." My hands are shaking. "No, we can fix this. We can—"
"Fix what? The fact that you betrayed both our families. The fact that Adrian is closing in on the truth. The fact that I'm about to lose everything because I couldn't control my wife?"
Each word is a knife.
"Saint, please—"
"There's nothing to fix." He turns back to the window. "It's over."
Tears are streaming down my face now. "Are you divorcing me?"
A pause. Long. Endless.
I hold my breath.
"No."
Relief floods through me, desperate and pathetic. I hate myself for this feeling. It's disgusting. And yet, I can't stop it.
I've been discarded by my family, and I don't know if I can handle if the same thing happens to me with Saint.
"But only because a divorce right now would show more weakness. It would raise questions." He's still not looking at me. "So you'll stay and play your role." He frowns. "It's the least you can do."
"And us?" My voice is barely a whisper.
"There is no us." He looks at me, and for a moment I see the pain underneath the anger. "You destroyed my trust. You put my family at risk. You went to my enemy behind my back."
"I didn't—"
"There's nothing. Just duty. Just..." He stops. "Maybe that changes someday. Maybe it doesn't. But right now? There's nothing."
"I love you." The words pour out desperately. This is my last-ditch effort. "I want to make this work."
"I know." His voice softens just slightly. "And that might be the worst part."
We pull up to the compound. Saint gets out immediately.
"Unpack," he says. "Rest. Whatever you need to do. I have meetings."
"Saint, wait—"
But he's already gone. Striding into the house like I don't exist.
I sit in the car, Emmanuel politely looking away, and I fall apart.
Not pregnant. Family in shambles. Husband who can barely look at me.
This is what rock bottom feels like.
I don't know how long I sit there. Eventually, Emmanuel gently suggests I go inside.
I make it to our bedroom before the sobs hit again.
There is no us. Not right now.
I curl up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest.
Bianca's voice echoes in my head: Nero women don't cry. We strategize.
But I'm not a Nero anymore. I'm a Marini. And apparently, I'm not very good at that either.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
I should ignore it. Should throw the phone across the room.
Instead, I open the message.
Heard about the doctor. My condolences. If you need anything, you know where to find me. - A
Alexei.
My blood runs cold.
How does he know? We went to a private office. Told no one. Dr. Reeves would never...
Which means he's watching. Has people watching. Knows our movements, our appointments, our private medical information.
I look at the window, suddenly paranoid. Is someone watching now?
My hands are shaking as I stare at the message. It's on my actual phone. Not the burner.
This was on purpose. He wants me to know he can reach me.
He's always there. Always watching. A shadow I can't escape.
I should delete it. Block the number.
But I don't.
Instead, I sit there, phone in hand, staring at those words.
If you need anything, you know where to find me.
No.
I delete the message. Block the number.
I made a deal with the devil once already. Look where it got me.
If I'm going to fix this, if there's anything left to fix, I need to do it myself.
I just have no idea how.