Page 150 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
I look down at Isabella's face, remembering how she stood up to me, how she fought for the truth about her mother, how she protected Angelica.
I lean down close and speak as if my words can will her to wake up. "I can't lose you. I won’t survive it.”
30
ISABELLA
I jolt awake, panic charging through my veins. The room spins as I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
A middle-aged man in a white coat stands beside me, adjusting something next to me. I notice a tube running from it to my arm.
“No!” I jerk, trying to disconnect.
“You’re safe now, Mrs. Ginetti,” he says, putting a firm hand over mine to keep me from ripping out the IV. “Try to stay calm."
It takes another moment before I realize I’m home… or in Roman’s home. I’m safe.
Just when I’m about to feel relieved, a new wave of panic tumbles through me. “My baby.” Roman doesn't even know. What if it's too late? What if Salvatore's violence and whatever drug they injected me with has already…?
"Please," I beg the doctor, clutching at his sleeve. "I'm pregnant. Is my baby okay?"
“You’re pregnant? How far along?" the doctor asks, his expression kind but unreadable.
"I don't know exactly. A few weeks? I just found out. Please, just tell me if my baby is okay."
The doctor gently removes my hand from his arm and places it back on the bed. "Mrs. Ginetti, I understand your concern." He adjusts his glasses. "I don't have the proper equipment here to confirm the status of your pregnancy with absolute certainty."
My breath catches. I feel like I'm hanging from a cliff by my fingertips.
“But your vitals are good, and I don't see any immediate signs of miscarriage.”
"But you're not sure," I press, searching his face for any hint of certainty.
"I can only tell you what I know right now," he explains, his tone measured. "You've been through significant trauma, and the sedative they administered was powerful. I've given you fluids and medication that shouldn't harm a developing fetus, but to be completely thorough, we'll need an ultrasound and blood work."
I close my eyes, trying to process his words. Not a definite yes, but not a no, either. Just this terrible limbo of not knowing.
"When can we do those tests?”
“I’ll arrange for the equipment to be brought. That should give us a good understanding of what’s going on, but you’ll want to go to a clinic or hospital when you’re stronger,” he says. "For now, try to rest. Stress won't help your condition or the pregnancy."
I nod, trying to calm myself. “How’d I get here?”
"Mr. Ginetti insisted on bringing you here rather than a hospital. I'm Dr. Montano. I work exclusively for La Corona families."
Of course. No hospitals, no records, no questions. I should have known.
"What happened to me?" I ask, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. Salvatore's face, twisted with rage. The needle. Then nothing but darkness.
Dr. Montano takes my wrist to check my pulse. "Your husband will know more. You've been unconscious for nearly eighteen hours."
Eighteen hours?
"The drug is metabolizing properly.” He releases my wrist. "Your vitals are strong, which is encouraging for both you and the potential pregnancy."
I glance around the room, suddenly aware that we're alone.
I sink back against the pillows, relief mingling with a new anxiety. Roman still doesn't know.
