Chapter 19
Alessio
Icouldn't sleep.
Valentina had finally drifted off around midnight, exhausted from the day's trauma and the pregnancy revelation still settling over us like unexpected snow.
She slept curled on her side in the hospital bed, one hand protectively over her stomach even in sleep—instinct already taking over, maternal protection for lives she'd only learned about hours ago.
I sat in the uncomfortable chair pulled close to her bedside, watching her breathe. Counting each rise and fall of her chest like I could keep her alive through sheer vigilance.
Twins.
The word kept circling my mind, refusing to fully land.
I was going to be a father. Of two children. In seven months.
The enormity of it pressed down on my chest until breathing felt difficult.
I'd spent twenty years running a criminal empire. Had killed men without hesitation. Had made impossible choices and lived with the consequences. Had survived things that would break most people.
But fatherhood?
I had no idea how to do that.
My own father had been a monster—training me from age ten to be his successor, teaching violence and strategy and ruthlessness.
The only tenderness I'd ever seen from him was directed at Eva, my sister.
And even that had limits. When she died, he'd negotiated peace instead of revenge. Called her sacrifice "strategic."
What kind of father does that?
The kind I was terrified of becoming.
I reached over carefully, rested my hand over Valentina's, where it curved protectively over her stomach. Felt the warmth of her skin, the steady pulse in her wrist.
Two lives growing inside her. Half me, half her. Innocent. Vulnerable. Completely dependent on us not to fuck this up.
Cristo. What had we done?
But even as the fear pressed in, something else stirred underneath. Something fierce and protective and utterly foreign to everything I'd known before Valentina.
Hope.
These children would never know violence the way I had. Would never be trained as weapons. Would never have to choose between honor and conscience.
They'd have what Eva never got—safety, love, the chance to be children instead of soldiers.
I'd make damn sure of it.
Even if I had no idea how.
A soft knock interrupted my spiral. I looked up to find Agent Morris in the doorway, looking apologetic for the intrusion.
"Mr. Valestri. Sorry to disturb. Can we talk briefly?"
I glanced at Valentina—still sleeping peacefully—then nodded and followed Morris into the hallway.
"How is she?" Morris asked.
"Exhausted. But stable." I crossed my arms, wincing as the movement pulled at my taped ribs. "What do you need?"
"Preliminary statement about tonight's events. Nothing formal yet—full debriefing will come later. But I need the basics for my report."
We found an empty consultation room. I gave her the abbreviated version—infiltrating the estate, confronting Marco, the fight, and SWAT's arrival. Left out the emotional weight, the blood debt implications, the moment I'd almost killed him.
Just facts. Clean. Professional.
Morris took notes and asked clarifying questions. Finally closed her tablet.
"Marco DeLuca was arraigned two hours ago via video from his hospital bed. Judge denied bail—flight risk, danger to witnesses, severity of charges. He's being transferred to federal holding pending trial."
Relief loosened something in my chest. "When's the trial?"
"Prosecutors are pushing for a fast track, given the evidence and public attention. Maybe three months. Your testimony will be critical—both of you."
Three months. Valentina was pregnant, dealing with morning sickness, exhaustion, and the stress of reliving everything.
"She'll need accommodations," I said. "Medical breaks. Reduced schedule if there are pregnancy complications—"
"Already noted. Prosecutors understand the situation." Morris hesitated. "There's something else you should know. Not everyone connected to Marco was arrested tonight. Some associates fled before we could secure them. They've gone underground."
Ice flooded my veins. "How many?"
"At least a dozen that we know of. Lower-level operators—enforcers, money runners. But still dangerous if they decide revenge is worth the risk."
"You think they'll come after us?"
"Honestly? Probably not. Marco's empire is finished.
Most of his people will be scrambling to save themselves, cut deals, and disappear.
Targeting you would just bring more heat.
" She paused. "But I can't guarantee your safety.
Which is why we're recommending enhanced security during the trial preparation. "
Enhanced security. With Valentina pregnant. With twins coming in seven months.
This was supposed to be over. Marco arrested, threat ended, freedom finally ours.
Instead, we were still looking over our shoulders.
"What are you recommending?" I asked.
"Secure safe house, armed detail, restricted movement. Standard witness protection protocols." Morris met my eyes. "I know it's not ideal. But it's temporary. Once the trial concludes and Marco's sentenced, the threat level drops significantly."
Temporary. Everything was always temporary.
But our children would be permanent. Would need stability, safety, and normalcy.
"I'll arrange private security in addition to the FBI detail," I said. "My people. No offense, but I trust them more."
"None taken. Coordinate with me so we're not tripping over each other."
After she left, I returned to Valentina's room. Found her awake, watching me with knowing eyes.
"Bad news?" she asked quietly.
I should lie. Should tell her everything was fine, let her rest, and reduce her stress like the doctor ordered.
But we'd promised honesty. No more secrets.
"Not everyone connected to Marco was arrested," I admitted, settling beside her carefully. "Some fled. FBI thinks they'll lay low, but they're recommending enhanced security as a precaution."
Her hand tightened over her stomach. "For how long?"
"Through the trial. Three months, maybe four."
I watched her process, saw the fear flicker across her face before determination replaced it.
"Okay," she said simply. "Whatever keeps us safe. Keeps them safe."
Them. The babies. Already her priority.
"I'm going to be a terrible father," I said, the admission escaping before I could stop it.
She blinked, surprised. "What?"
"I don't know how to do this," I said quietly. "Be a parent. My father was—" I couldn't finish. "I don't want to become him."
"You're already different." Her hand found my face, made me look at her. "Already choosing them over everything else. That's what good fathers do."
"I don't know if that's enough."
"It's more than enough." She pulled me down and kissed me softly. "We'll figure it out together. Make mistakes together. Love them fiercely together. That's all we can do."
Together. Like everything else we'd survived.
The next two weeks blurred into strange domesticity.
FBI moved us to a secure safe house outside Phoenix—a modest ranch, armed guards, surveillance everywhere. Not home, but safe.
Sofia remained in protective custody at an undisclosed location—FBI protocol, they said, until her testimony was secured.
Phone calls only, monitored and brief. Valentina understood the necessity, but I saw how it wore on her.
Eighteen years apart, finally reunited, and now separated again by the same system meant to protect them.
Valentina's morning sickness started in week two. Brutal, relentless, leaving her pale and exhausted. I learned to make ginger tea, keep crackers on the nightstand, and hold her hair when she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.
"Glamorous," she muttered one morning, slumped on the bathroom floor.
"Very," I agreed, pressing a cool cloth to her forehead.
But there were beautiful moments too.
The first prenatal appointment was with Dr. Morrison, the high-risk OB. Seeing the twins on ultrasound again—bigger now, more defined. Two distinct shapes instead of bean-sized spots.
"Strong heartbeats," Dr. Morrison said. "Development right on track. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
Valentina squeezed my hand, tears in her eyes. "They're really okay?"
"They're perfect."
I bought pregnancy books. Read them cover to cover while Valentina slept. What to Expect When You're Expecting. The Expectant Father. Guides to twin pregnancies, high-risk situations, and newborn care.
The information was overwhelming. But I read them anyway.
Found Valentina watching me one afternoon, with a small smile on her face.
"Studying?" she asked.
"Trying to figure out what we're supposed to do with them once they're here."
"The books know?"
"The books have opinions. Lots of conflicting opinions." I set down Twins 101 with mild frustration. "One says strict schedules. Another says follow the baby's lead. A third says ignore the first two and just survive."
She laughed, settled beside me on the couch. "I vote for option three."
"Me too."
Her hand found mine automatically, fingers interlacing. We sat in comfortable silence, both processing the impossible reality.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly.
"Me too."
"But also excited?"
"Both." I pulled her closer. "Constantly."
"I think so. At least, that's what all the pregnancy forums say."
"You're reading pregnancy forums?"
"Obsessively. At three AM when I can't sleep." She rested her head on my shoulder. "Did you know twins can have completely different personalities even in the womb? One might be active while the other's calm. One might respond to music while the other ignores it."
"I didn't know that."
"Pregnancy forums. Three a.m." She shifted closer. "Now I can't stop wondering which one will be which."
I pressed a kiss to her hair, let myself imagine it. Two distinct personalities. Two different people we'd get to know, raise, and watch grow.
Domenico visited on day twelve, ostensibly to check security but really to see how we were handling everything.