Page 157 of Mafia King of Lies

They take her straight to a room, and I’m by her side every step of the way. The nurses move quickly, getting her set up on the bed, hooking her up to the monitors. My eyes stay fixed on her face. I’ve watched this woman stare down the barrel of a gun and hold strong—and now I’ll watch her bring new life into the world.

The last time I was in a situation like this, I was watching Daniele come into the world. And now, here I am again—with the one who brought meaning back into my life.

She’s scared—I can see it—but there’s something else in her eyes too: hope. Anticipation. She’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. She was born for this role.

“I’m here,” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her face, trying to comfort her, though I’m equally shaken. “You’re doing great.”

“I’m scared, Matteo,” she admits, her voice trembling slightly, but she forces a smile. Small beads of sweat dot her forehead as she tries to breathe in and out. “What if I can’t do this?”

I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers. “You can. You’re stronger than you think. You’re incredible.”

The hours seem to fly by—or maybe they slow down, I can’t tell. All I know is that before long, the doctor is telling us that it’s time.

I stand at her side, gripping her hand, feeling her squeeze it in return with every push. I’m watching her—watching the strength in her face, in her body—as she brings our son into the world.

And I fall in love with her all over again.

I can hardly believe it’s happening.

This is real.

And then, after four hours of labor and six strong pushes, we hear it. A sound I will never forget for the rest of my life.

Our son’s cry—raw, pure, and full of life—pierces the air, and it takes everything in me to hold it together.

The nurse places him on Maria’s chest, and his cries instantly calm. I’m overwhelmed. I look down at his tiny face, the soft strands of black hair on his head, the little fingers that curl instinctively.

He’s perfect—just like his mother.

Maria’s tired eyes meet mine, and she smiles, her face flushed but radiant. “He’s here,” she whispers.

I glance down at our son again, overwhelmed by a love so deep it threatens to spill over. And then, we both know. We’ve been talking about names for months, trying to figure out which one fits best. But in this moment, there’s no hesitation.

“Antonio Daniele Davacalli,” Maria says softly, her voice full of emotion as she gazes down at him. “He should carry his brother’s name—and his uncle’s, too.”

I nod, my throat tight as I try to hold back the tears. “I love it,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect. Antonio. Our perfect little boy.”

He blinks slowly, his tiny chest rising and falling.

And for a moment, the world outside this hospital room ceases to exist.

This—this is everything.

The quiet of the hospital room settles around us as we sit in the soft glow of the bedside lamp—the three of us, finally complete. Antonio is wrapped snugly in a blanket, his tiny fingers grasping at the air as if trying to touch everything at once. His little face, though scrunched from the world’s first tastes of reality, is a vision of pure innocence.

I will do whatever it takes to make sure this baby is safe and protected. Nothing will ever harm him in this world as long as I live.

Maria leans back into the pillows, exhaustion etched into her features, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are on Antonio, the love she feels for him overwhelming—and I can see the bond between mother and child forming in an instant.

“He looks so much like his Uncle Antonio—it’s almost uncanny,” I mutter, eyes fixed on his tiny face.

“I see it too,” Maria whispers, her voice full of wonder. “The name is fitting for him, I think. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now.”

I walk over to her and lean down to give her a gentle kiss on the lips. The exhaustion in her eyes softens.

“It’s perfect. You gave me a new life, Maria. Saying ‘I love you’ doesn’t even come close.”

She lets out a tired laugh, her hand coming to gently cup my cheek. “I love you, Matteo. I love you both.”

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