CHAPTER 86: THE BABY BOMBSHELL

The first sign came quietly, disguised as fatigue. Aria had brushed it off at first, the long nights, the tension, the constant uncertainty that shadowed every step of her and Luca’s lives. She’d been living on adrenaline for so long that exhaustion had become normal. But lately, it wasn’t just exhaustion. It was the nausea that hit her in the mornings, the dizziness when she stood too fast, the way certain smells, Luca’s cologne, strong coffee, even the scent of gun oil, made her stomach twist.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, pale and trembling, her hands pressed against the cool porcelain of the sink. The city’s muted hum drifted through the window, distant and unaware that her world had just tilted on its axis.

She’d missed her period. Twice.

Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. She wanted to tell herself it was stress, the aftermath of Matteo’s attack, the sleepless nights. But deep down, she already knew.

And yet, knowing wasn’t enough. She needed proof.

So she found herself at a small pharmacy tucked between a café and a flower shop. A disguise, sunglasses, a scarf, the kind of secrecy that had become second nature to her now. The cashier didn’t recognize her; to them, she was just another nervous woman with trembling fingers clutching a paper bag.

Back home, she locked the door, her pulse hammering as she opened the box. The test felt impossibly small in her hand, a piece of plastic that could redefine everything.

She followed the instructions with shaking hands, then sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the clock on the wall. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching, tightening, suffocating her.

When the time was up, she forced herself to look.

Two lines.

Her breath hitched, a soft sound that was half laughter, half sob. "No," she whispered, though part of her meant yes.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. Her mind was chaos, fragments of memory, flashes of Luca’s hands on her skin, his voice murmuring her name in the dark. All the danger, all the love, all the promises whispered between battles. And now this.

Life.

Their life.

A new heartbeat that had somehow found its way into all the wreckage.

She sank to the floor, clutching the test in her trembling hand. It wasn’t fear that shook her, not entirely. It was the weight of everything this meant.

She was going to be a mother.

That evening, Luca returned later than usual. His shirt was wrinkled, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed. There was blood on his cuff, not his, she hoped, and exhaustion carved into his every movement.

He didn’t see her at first. She was sitting by the window, the city lights reflecting in her eyes, the test hidden in her pocket.

He poured himself a drink and downed it in one swallow before finally noticing her silence. "You didn’t sleep," he said softly, crossing the room. "I can tell."

"I couldn’t." Her voice was quiet, almost fragile.

He knelt beside her, this man who had fought wars, killed enemies, and built empires. She wondered how he’d react to the one battle he couldn’t control.

"Something did happen," she said. Her fingers found the test in her pocket. She held it out without a word.

Luca frowned, taking it from her carefully. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the tiny piece of plastic, the faint lines that changed everything.

Then his eyes lifted to hers.

"Aria," he breathed, voice breaking slightly, "is this what I think it is?"

She nodded, unable to trust her voice.

For a heartbeat, he said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and trembling. Then Luca stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away, running a hand through his hair. His movements were sharp and restless, the way he got when he was processing something bigger than his control.

"Luca"

He turned, eyes blazing with something between awe and terror. "You’re pregnant."

"Yes," she whispered.

He let out a shaky breath and laughed, but it wasn’t from humor, it was disbelief. He sat down hard on the arm of the couch, staring at the floor. "A child," he murmured. "Our child."

She watched him carefully. "I didn’t plan it."

He looked up sharply. "Neither did I. But" He paused, searching for words. "But maybe it doesn’t matter."

Her chest tightened. "You don’t sound happy."

"I am," he said quickly, almost too quickly. "I just" He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aria, look at the life we live. Look at what just happened with Matteo. How can I bring a baby into this?"

She swallowed hard. "So you think we shouldn’t?"

"I didn’t say that." He stood again, moving to her, his hands finding her shoulders. "I’m terrified, that’s all. I don’t know how to protect something so" He stopped, swallowing hard. "So innocent. I can barely protect you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You think I’m not terrified? I found out this morning, Luca. I spent hours staring at a wall trying to breathe."

His expression softened immediately. "I’m sorry."

She looked down at his hand resting on her stomach. "It’s real," she whispered.

"I know."

"And it’s ours."

He closed his eyes. "God help me, yes."

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was tender, fragile, the kind that holds more emotion than words ever could. Luca’s thumb brushed against her belly, tracing invisible circles.

"When did you know?" he asked.

"This morning. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. But I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer."

He smiled faintly, a small, disbelieving curve of his lips. "You always were terrible at keeping secrets."

That made her laugh softly through her tears. "You love that about me."

"I do." His voice was quiet, reverent. "More than you know."

He sank to his knees in front of her, his forehead pressing against her stomach. Aria’s breath caught as she felt his hand slide up to rest there, protective, tender, trembling.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice thick. "It’s your father. I’m not perfect, and I’m probably the last man who deserves you, but I swear I’ll protect you both with everything I have."

Tears slid down her cheeks as she threaded her fingers through his hair. "You already do," she whispered.

He looked up at her then, his eyes softer than she’d ever seen. "Aria this changes everything."

"I know."

"I don’t want you near the business anymore," he said suddenly. "No more meetings, no more public events. You stay somewhere safe, away from all of it."

Her brows furrowed. "Luca"

"I’m serious," he cut in. "You’re not just my wife anymore. You’re the mother of my child." His voice cracked slightly at the word child. "That means I can’t take chances."

Aria reached for his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Then don’t shut me out again. If we’re going to do this, we do it together."

He nodded slowly, his hand still resting against her stomach. "Together."

They stayed like that for a long time, the city lights spilling across their faces, the night folding around them like a secret. For the first time in months, Aria felt something she hadn’t dared to in a long time, peace.

It wasn’t the kind that came from safety or certainty, but from knowing that amid all the danger, something good had survived. Something pure.

Luca leaned in, pressing a kiss to her belly, his voice a whisper against her skin. "Our little miracle."

Aria smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with love so fierce it hurt. "Our new beginning."

And for the first time, they both believed it.

The next morning, the reality settled in like a gentle fog. Aria woke to the smell of burnt toast wafting from the kitchen, a sound of clattering pans following. She smiled to herself, pulling on a robe before padding down the hall. Luca stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, frowning at a pan of scrambled eggs that looked more like rubber than breakfast.

"You’re cooking," she said, leaning against the doorframe.

He glanced over, sheepish grin breaking through his concentration. "Thought you might be hungry. The baby too."

She crossed the room, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "We are. But maybe turn the heat down next time."

He chuckled, turning to face her. "Noted. How are you feeling?"

"Nauseous. Tired. Happy." She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Scared."

"Me too," he admitted, kissing the top of her head. "I called the doctor. Private appointment tomorrow. Just to confirm everything’s okay."

Her stomach fluttered. "Already?"

"Couldn’t wait," he said. "I need to know you’re both safe."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Yes, boss."

Weeks blurred into a tentative routine. Morning sickness hit hard, Luca holding her hair back in the bathroom, rubbing her back with murmured encouragements. He cut back on meetings, delegating to Enzo, spending afternoons reading baby books aloud, his deep voice stumbling over terms like "colostrum" and "lanugo."

One night, as rain pattered against the windows, doubts crept in. Luca stared at the ceiling, arm around her. "What if I’m not good at this? Fatherhood. I didn’t exactly have a role model."

She turned to him, tracing his jaw. "You’re not your father. You’re you. The man who fought for us. That’s enough."

He pulled her closer. "Promise you’ll tell me if I mess up."

"Always," she said.

As her belly swelled, so did their hope. Enzo visited, clapping Luca on the back with gruff congratulations, slipping Aria a tiny pair of booties. "For the little boss."

Luca laughed, real and free. "No business for this one. School. Toys. Normal stuff."

They both laughed hard till they fell asleep.