Page 56 of A Bride for the Mafia King

Then finally—finally—it does.

The doctor steps out, removing his gloves with a soft snap. His assistant lingering behind him. They both look far calmer than I feel inside.

I’m across the hall in two steps. Nico jumps up behind me.

“Well?” I demand.

He holds up a hand, firm but not unkind. “You can see her now. She’s stable. You got her here just in time.”

My throat tightens. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, but I don’t relax. Because I can tell by the look on his face there is a but coming.

“But,” he continued, tone professional. “She’s sustained a mild concussion, some facial trauma—swelling, bruising, but no fractures. A few ribs are bruised, but intact. She’ll be sore for a while. Shaken. Bed rest will be required for a few weeks at the least.”

“Bed rest,” I narrow my eyes, jaw clenched. “Why?”

The doctor’s face shifts—less clinical now. More careful. “She’s pregnant.”

Time stops. Silence follows his announcement. The hallway, the walls, the world go still all around me.

I blink once. Then again. “What did you just say?”

“She’s pregnant,” he repeats calmly. “It’s very early. Maybe 3 or 4 weeks, give or take. We wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t been protecting her stomach so instinctively. When I ran the test, it came back positive and confirmed it. We won’t know for sure for several weeks still if the baby will survive or not. She’s still in the danger window so bed rest is non-negotiable.”

I stagger back a step. The floor feels suddenly unsteady beneath my feet. Nico’s glass slips from his fingers and crashes to the ground beside me.

“The fuck—?” he mutters, staring at me, demanding. “Did you know?”

I shake my head, suddenly unable to speak. No, I didn’t know.

The doctor smirks faintly, then turns his attention back to me. “You didn’t know?”

I don’t answer. Still struck in silent shock.

He pats my shoulder with mock sympathy and more than a little amusement. “Well… congratulations, Tolya. You’re going to be a father.”

The weight of it settles in my chest like a like a fucking sledgehammer. And the doctor goes on, oblivious to the internal implosion happening in front of him.

“She’ll need strict bed rest. Minimal stress. No lifting, no exertion. That means no travel, no late nights, no standing for long periods of time. And above all else no trauma. The next few weeks are critical.”

“She didn’t tell me,” I say hoarsely. I don’t even know who I’m talking to, the doctor, Nico, the empty hallway, myself.

Nico's eyes flick between me and the closed bedroom door. “She didn’t tell me either.”

The doctor nods, his face neutral. “That’s not uncommon. Many women wait until they’re sure. Especially under… difficult circumstances.”

I swallow hard. Difficult doesn’t begin to fucking cover everything that has happened.

“Will she be okay?” I ask quietly.

“With rest and careful monitoring, yes. But if anything like this happens again…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.

I nod stiffly.

He gives a final instruction to the assistant, then turns back to me. “I’ll return tomorrow to check on her. In the meantime, make sure she doesn’t try to be brave. No pushing herself. Not even to get out of bed.”

I watch him retreat. Listen to the echo of his shoes fading down the hallway.

Then I turn back to face Nico and we share a dumbfounded expression. She didn’t tell me. She didn’t tell anyone.