Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elena
Muffled voices drifted to my ears. I opened my eyes slowly and found myself cradled in Dante's arms, lying beside him on a hospital bed—his arm wrapped around me from behind, palm resting on my swollen belly.
Marco and two guys from the company stood nearby, giving Dante a hushed briefing.
"Awake?"
Dante noticed me immediately and raised his hand, cutting them off. His large hand stroked my cheek. "Anything hurt, baby?"
Baby?
My eyes went wide. Marco and the others ducked their heads, biting back smiles. I wanted to crawl under the sheets. "Dante, we have company!"
"You guys, out."
When the door clicked shut, Dante pulled back the covers and looked at me with gentle eyes. "There. They're gone."
I took in his hospital gown, the weariness in his face, the exhaustion. Relief crashed over me—we'd made it. I couldn't hold back anymore. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest.
"You scared me to death!"
I'd hit his wound. Dante grunted. "Ah—"
"Are you okay?" I stared at the corner of gauze peeking from his chest, tears spilling over. "This is my fault. I didn't see them coming. You got hurt because of me."
"Elena." Dante wiped my tears away. "Don't blame yourself. Hector came after you because of his beef with me. He just wanted leverage. If anyone should apologize, it's me. I brought this danger into your life."
"No." I shook my head hard, grabbed his hand, and pressed it to my chest. "I don't need your apology. I just need you to get better. My shop's waiting for you. You promised you'd be there with me, remember?"
Dante's mouth curved into a smile. "Of course I'll be there. I'll always be there."
His gaze dropped to my belly. "The baby okay?"
"They're fine." I guided Dante's hand to my stomach. "The doctor checked. They're healthy."
Relief softened Dante's face. He looked up at me. "Can I listen to them?"
Now?
I glanced around. The room was big, empty except for us. Face burning, I unbuttoned my gown and exposed my belly, leaning close to Dante.
Dante turned his head, pressed his ear against my stomach.
"It's still early. You probably won't hear anything." I wrapped my arms around him. "Give it time. When they're bigger, you'll hear them."
But Dante listened carefully, then told me, "I hear them."
I was shocked. "Really?"
"Of course." The Don's confidence never wavered. "They're my child. When they're near me, we connect."
I laughed with him. We stayed like that, listening to my belly like two idiots, as if the forming baby was actually answering us.
"Thank you, Elena."
Dante squeezed my hand tight. "I imagined it so many times—what my wife and child would be like.
But whenever I thought of Salvador and Isabella's marriage, I felt nothing but resistance and fear.
You changed that. You and this baby gave me hope for the future.
I know I can be a good husband and a good father. "
His voice was firm, like a solemn vow.
And all I had to do was trust him completely, stand by him, and walk toward our happy future together.
Even with bandages still wrapped around him, we laced our fingers together, sharing smiles only we understood. Sunlight broke through the clouds outside, spilling across the edge of the bed, across our joined hands—like some silent promise.
We both believed that the future would be happy.
Dante's injury needed rest, but he couldn't sit still.
By the third day, he'd turned his hospital room into an office. Laptop balanced on his legs, phone calls one after another. Marco and company staff streamed in and out, files coming in by the stack, going out by the stack. I sat there stunned.
I perched on the sofa beside him, peeling an apple. When I finished the whole thing, I held it to his mouth.
Dante took a bite without looking up, eyes still locked on his screen.
"Can't you lie down and heal?" I worried about him.
"Can't sign contracts lying down." He swallowed the bite and reached toward me. "Feed me another."
I felt both annoyed and amused. I shoved the rest of the apple into his hand. "Eat it yourself."
"Tastes sweeter when you feed me."
"Sweet talker," I said, but still picked up another apple from the fruit bowl and started peeling.
The doctor made rounds every morning.
Dante treated everyone with cool detachment, except when the doctor examined my belly. Then he zeroed in, staring holes into the doctor's back, constantly interrupting with questions.
"At this stage, what's normal for fetal movement?"
"She tossed and turned a lot last night. Is something wrong?"
"Can we schedule another ultrasound?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses and patiently answered every question.
As he left, he finally couldn't help adding, "Mr. Moretti, your wife is perfectly healthy. The baby's thriving. If you're still worried, take walks with her. A happy mother is the best medicine."
Dante listened, and for once didn't argue. He nodded seriously.
On the fourth day, Maggie came.
She called first, voice tight with worry. "Elena, you and Dante... you're hurt? I saw the news. What happened?"
I spent half the call calming her down, insisting we were fine, the baby was fine. Only then did she relax a little. When I hung up, Dante leaned back against the headboard and raised an eyebrow.
"Your mom's coming?"
"Yeah." I glanced at him. "She needs to see for herself."
Dante looked almost uncomfortable. He glanced down at his hospital gown, then touched his jaw. "Should I change?"
"You're injured. A hospital gown makes sense." I couldn't help laughing at him. "Don, are you nervous?"
"This is different." For once, he didn't deflect. "She's your mother."
When Maggie arrived at the hospital, she carried a thermal food container and a bag of fruit. She paused at the door, peeking in at Dante propped up in bed, before entering.
"Mom." I waved her over. "Come sit."
Maggie set the container on the nightstand and opened it—a pot of rich, white chicken soup. She glanced at Dante, then at me, then at my slightly rounded belly. Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears.
"Elena." Her voice cracked. "You went through something this terrible and didn't tell me sooner."
"I didn't want you to worry." I took her hand. "Look, we're both fine."
Maggie sniffled and turned to Dante, studying him carefully for a long moment.
Dante stiffened under her gaze, sitting straighter. When he spoke, his voice was lower than usual. "Ma'am."
"Thank you, Dante." Maggie looked at him. "If you hadn't risked your life to save Elena, I might never have seen her again."
Her voice broke. I patted her shoulder quickly.
"I didn't want you two together before, because your world is too dangerous." Maggie continued. "But a man who brings Elena back from death's door—you care for her. You'll protect her. So I trust my daughter. The man she chose can't be wrong."
Dante froze, then very quietly said, "You have my word."
Maggie didn't press further. She ladled out the soup, handing me a bowl first, then serving Dante. Dante held his bowl, took a sip, then another, then looked up. "Thank you. It's really good."
Maggie smiled, the wrinkles at her eyes smoothing out. "If it's good, drink plenty. It helps with your healing."
She stayed a while, then checked the time and stood to leave. "I'll head back and make you both something else. You two rest up. Don't worry about anything else."
I walked her to the door. She suddenly stopped, glanced back at Dante, then lowered her voice to me. "The way he looks at you—that can't be faked. I'm at peace now."
My nose stung. I nodded. "Be careful going home, Maggie."
After Maggie left, Dante pulled me back to the bed and made me sit. He was quiet for a moment, then said, "You and Maggie look alike."
"Everyone says that."
"She loves you." Dante looked at me. "Back at the manor, you must have missed her terribly."
I lowered my head. "I had no choice. I worked hard at the manor so she could have a better life."
Dante took my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles. "Never again. She'll be near us from now on. You can see her whenever you want."
I looked at him and nodded. "Okay."
That afternoon after rounds, Marco came again.
This time he knocked before entering. Seeing me sitting by Dante's bed, he hesitated, then closed the door and approached Dante.
"Dante." Marco kept his voice low. "The Cruz family situation is wrapped up. Hector's men either fell in line or got cleaned out. Their New York territory is under our control. As for Mexico, I've cultivated our forces there. Our informants are in place."
I kept my head down, carefully peeling another apple. Dante never hid these things from me, but I didn't understand enough—just caught pieces here and there.
Dante listened to Marco's full report and simply nodded. "Got it."
"One more thing." Marco glanced at me, hesitating. "Valentina... we sent her back to Mexico. She's under watch."
The room went quiet.
Dante said nothing.
My hand froze, the apple peel breaking.
"Valentina..." I set down the knife and looked at Dante. "How is she?"
"Secured in a safe location." Dante closed his laptop, looking at me with something like guilt. "She won't get another chance to do anything. She'll never appear in front of you again."
I was silent for a moment, then spoke. "Don't lock her up."
Dante looked at me, surprised.
"Let her live normally." I looked out the window. "If she causes trouble, stop her then. You don't need to keep her confined."
Dante stared at me for a long time before saying, "You're not jealous anymore?"
"I just think," I looked down, picking up the broken peel, "she loved you once. I don't want you to hurt someone who loved you, even if she made mistakes."
Dante didn't respond right away.
After a while, I felt a warm palm settle on my head, ruffling my hair gently.
"My Elena." His voice was low, slightly rough. "Such a kind girl."
I looked up and met Dante's eyes. They held a softness I'd never seen before.
He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. Then he tilted my chin up and kissed my lips, tender and lingering.
His kiss was gentle, carrying the scent of hospital disinfectant, yet it settled my heart completely.
I closed my eyes and gripped the front of his hospital gown.
When I opened my eyes, Dante was propped on his elbow, watching me with a faint smile. Marco had slipped out at some point; the door softly closed.
"You knew Marco would leave." My face burned as I pushed him.
"If he couldn't read a room, he wouldn't have this job." Dante was completely shameless. "Come here, Elena. Let me hold you a little longer."
I nestled into his arms, listening to his heartbeat—steady, strong.
"Dante."
"Yeah?"
"Don't charge in alone anymore." I buried my face in his shoulder, voice muffled. "I'd rather face danger with you than have you sacrifice yourself to protect me."
Dante was quiet for a moment before answering. "Okay. I promise."
I wrapped my arms tight around him, breathing in his scent, eyes closed, finally at peace.
Days passed. Dante's injury gradually healed—from walking around, to handling files himself, to trading his hospital gown for his usual black suit.
The night before discharge, I lay in bed while Dante sat in the chair beside it, holding a document he hadn't turned a page of in forever.
"Aren't you coming to bed?" I looked at him.
"You sleep first." He said. "I'll read a bit more."
I watched him for a while, then said, "Dante, something's on your mind."
He went quiet, set down the document, and looked at me. "Marco told me today that everything in New York is stable. He also said... you didn't have it easy at the manor."
I froze, slowly sitting up. "What did he tell you?"
"A lot." Dante looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "About how the other maids ostracized you when you first arrived. How Salvador constantly gave you a hard time. How you'd hide in corners and cry, with only Lucia to comfort you."
I looked down, silent.
"Elena." He called my name.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry," he said. "You suffered so much where I couldn't see."
"That's all past," I said. "Besides, if I hadn't met you at the manor, I wouldn't be who I am now."
Dante stood, moved to the bed, and took my hand. "From now on, you won't suffer any indignity. Everyone at the manor who mistreated you—I had Marco deal with them."
"Deal with them?" I was surprised. "You..."
"I didn't hurt them," Dante said. "Just made sure they know who you are now. When they see you from now on, they'll respectfully call you Mrs. Moretti."
I looked at him, my nose stinging. "Thank you, Dante."
"You don't have to thank me." He lowered his head and kissed my forehead. "It's what I owe you."