Chapter 53
~Dominic~
It’s tearing my heart out, watching my Angel suffer. Six relentless hours of this. They thought they could keep me out of the room while my woman fought through pain? Not a chance. If all I can do is wipe her brow and hold her hand, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.
So what if she crushes every bone in my hand with her death grip? Each contraction, each cry — it’s the only way I know how to share her pain.
Elle insisted on delivering at Brooklyn Hospital. She refused to change her obstetrician, and I respected that. By now, Dario has the entire place locked down. After the donation we made, the hospital bent over backwards to meet our requests. No other patient is allowed on this floor. Only Elle.
I won’t risk my family. My men control every entrance and exit.
And still, word reached me that someone tried to dig for information about my wife.
She may still be a target. I can’t tell her — not now, not when she’s vulnerable and carrying our child.
So I keep it to myself, and I stay here, where I belong. At her side.
“Okay, Mrs. Vitelli, it’s time. Your baby’s head is right here.
One big push,” the doctor urges from the foot of the bed.
Elle’s grip on my hand tightens like a vice.
Her teeth clench, her eyes squeeze shut, her face a mask of sheer determination.
She summons every ounce of strength, and with a scream that rips through the room, silence follows—then the piercing cry of our child fills the air.
My chest constricts with emotion. I lift Elle’s hand to my lips, then lean down to kiss her mouth.
The doctor beams. “Congratulations, you have a boy.” She places the tiny, swaddled form into Elle’s arms. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Elle smiles through exhaustion as she cradles him, her joy radiating.
Our son quiets only when he latches onto her breast. I reach out, brushing my fingers through his thick, silky black hair. “He’s perfect, Angel. Thank you for giving me a family.” Her eyes glisten. “I love you, Dominic.” “Love you too, Angel,” I whisper back.
Later, once Elle has been tended to and our baby fed, I force myself to leave her room.
I pause at the doorway, taking in the sight of her sleeping peacefully, our son swaddled in the cot beside her, his tiny features relaxed in slumber.
The vision of them together makes my heart ache with love.
Closing the door softly so as not to disturb them, I walk down the corridor past the nurse’s station, carrying the weight of joy and gratitude in every step.
I pass two of my men stationed at the stairwell exit, nodding as I continue down the corridor. Ahead, Dario, Dante, and Jimmy stand in a tight circle, speaking in hushed tones near the elevator. They turn as I approach.
“How are Elle and my new nephew?” Dante asks. They’d been allowed into the room earlier, and it still amazes me how a baby can soften even the hardest men.
“Both are sleeping now,” I answered. My voice hardens. “Tell me.”
The three exchange uneasy glances, as if debating who should deliver bad news on a day meant for joy.
Dario clears his throat. “There was a man trying to get onto this floor from the staircase earlier. He claimed he’d gotten off on the wrong floor, and said his wife was a patient here. The guards let him go, thinking he was innocent.” His hesitation is obvious. He looks to my brother.
Dante picks up where Dario falters. “We checked the hospital footage. When he came in, he went straight for the stairs, bypassing the elevators. After our men confronted him, he didn’t look for his wife—he left the hospital without visiting anyone.
That made us suspicious. We got a clear look at his face.
He’s Rafael Sanchez, a soldier in the Mexican cartel. ”
My stomach twists. “Fucking hell. We have no business with the cartel. Why was he here?”
Dante’s eyes glint, a look I’ve seen too often lately. “The fuck if I know, Dom. But we’ll find out.”
“They’ve only started nosing around after your injuries, Dante.” I raise a brow, holding his gaze. “Is there anything I should know?”
His reply is quick, too quick. “No. Nothing.”
“We have a team that is looking for him, Boss.” Jimmy spoke up for the first time. His words still echo in my mind, when I leave the men behind and return to Elle’s hospital room. She’s awake now, her eyes soft as I slip quietly inside.
“Did I wake you, Angel?” I whisper, lowering myself beside her, careful not to disturb our son. She curls into me, her head resting on my shoulder, her arm draped across my chest. Together, we watch Luca sleep.
“What do you think—do you like the name Luca? Luca Vitelli.”
Elle traces slow circles on my chest with her finger, silent for a moment. Just when I think she won’t answer, she lifts her head, her expression unreadable. Then her lips curve into a smile. “Luca Vitelli. I love it, Dominic. What does it mean?”
I cup her face gently. “It means ‘light.’ You are my Angel, the one who brought light back into my life. When I opened my eyes all those months ago, I thought I was dead. Then I saw you—your hair catching the light, your presence pulling me out of the darkness. And now you’ve given me a son who carries that same light. Just like his mother.”