Chapter 578: We’re Having A Girl

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

Vee smiled at him. Her own eyes had grown wet. She should have been thanking him too, perhaps. For standing with her. For being there, completely present, even when the rest of their lives had become one long criminal emergency. But she did not say it. She would not take this moment away from him.

She knew what this baby meant to Luca. This child was proof that they could lose and still receive.Proof that they could withstand anything together and still make something beautiful. Vee’s smile trembled.

The doctor handed her a wipe for her stomach, but Luca reached for it instantly. He barely had time to extend his hand before Luca took the wipe. He leaned over and began gently cleaning the gel from Vee’s stomach, as if even her skin needed reverence now. The doctor turned to write down the next appointment and prescriptions.

Luca finished wiping her stomach and tugged her shirt down carefully. The doctor handed over the paperwork, explaining the next steps, the check-up date, and a few warning signs they should watch for.

When the doctor was done, Luca helped Vee sit up. Then he helped her stand. He was the perfect picture of a doting husband, one hand at her back, the other holding her, eyes tracking every movement she made.

In that room, he was only her husband. The father of her child. As soon as she was on her feet, Luca leaned in and pressed a deep kiss to her lips.

Full of everything he could not say without his voice breaking.

"We’re having a girl," he said.

Vee laughed, but the laughter choked into a happy sob. "I guess so. Should I be worried?" she asked.

His brows drew together. "About?"

"Competition?"

"Oh no," he said, brushing his thumb gently along her cheek. "You will always and forever be my favourite girl." He kissed the tip of her nose, gathered the prescription and file containing their appointment note and scan report. Vee thanked the doctor properly because Luca looked too overwhelmed to do anything except nod.

"Come on," she said. "Let’s go home. Have to give the rest of the family the news."

*****

The moment Marco saw his mother’s face, everything inside him gave way. Carol opened the door, and it was as if the last twenty-four hours hit him all at once. The ugly truth that had not finished cutting him yet.

For the entire flight, Marco had held himself together. Barely, but he had managed it. He had walked through the airport with his jaw set and his bag in one hand. He had answered no one. Spoken to no one. Slept not at all. By the time he reached Carol’s new house, he had become little more than exhaustion.

Carol had been the first woman ever to truly see him. The dirty boy on the side of the road in Italy. She had seen him.

And now, more than two decades later, she still did.

"Ma..." he choked out.

She simply opened her arms and pulled him in. He stepped into her embrace like a boy returning from war. He bent his head, and her arms closed around him, firm and warm and familiar. "There is my beautiful boy," Carol murmured, holding him tighter. "My perfect boy. It is going to be okay."

Marco shook his head against her shoulder. "No, Ma." His voice cracked. "Not this time. You cannot make this better."

"No one hurts my son," she said. "No one."

Marco looked away. He had already been hurt. By his wife. Carol touched his face, forcing his gaze back to hers.

"Come," she said. "I’ll make you tea."

He stepped inside. The house was new to her. Carol had moved there after the war with Julian’s hired goons. She needed a new environment.

His eyes drifted through the hallway. "Your garden is a mess,"

she laughed softly. Her sons had always been strange like that. One was emotionally attached to animals. The other could coax dying plants back to life with patience. In Carol’s opinion, both habits were overcompensation for the storm their work made of their souls. "you are right. Since I moved here, I have tried and tried, but then I remembered you were the one who helped me with the previous place."

She led him into the kitchen. She moved with brisk purpose, filling the kettle, setting it on, pulling down cups, reaching for tea leaves, and the tin of biscuits Marco had loved since boyhood.

He stood near the counter, looking far too big and far too broken for the room. Carol kept her back to him for a moment.

Then she said, "Tell me. What did Val do?"

Marco looked up at her. "How did you know?"

"Only two people can break you, Marco," Carol said. "I am one. Val is the other. So, tell me."

"I can’t, Ma," Marco said.

Carol raised a brow. "Since when can’t you tell me anything?" she asked.

Marco rubbed the back of his neck. "It concerns the famiglia."

The excuse landed badly.

"She broke omertà?"

"Technically, she can’t break omertà," he said. "I didn’t allow her to join the famiglia. I did not want to keep her trapped."

"Yes," she said. "You told me."

"I thought I was protecting her. I thought keeping her outside meant she would never have to answer to our rules."

"I thought it was wise," she said carefully. Carol’s mind began moving faster now, connecting pieces he had not yet spoken aloud. "If she isn’t in the famiglia," she said slowly, "and she somehow breaks omertà..." Her voice faded. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God. No." Carol stepped back, one hand flying to her chest. "No, not my son."

"Ma..."

"Does Massimo know?"

"Not yet."

Carol’s face drained of colour.

"Luca tried to stop me from figuring it out," Marco said. "But now that Don is in New York, it complicates things."

"God, no. God, no. God, no, please."

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