Chapter 14 - The Waiting Room Outside the Storm|
The sky over Boston split itself open in a violent downpour, drowning the city lights in sheets of dark rain while Lucia laboured inside a private hospital room. The chart at the door didn't bear the formidable name of Santoro. It was registered under Vale.
Inside, hard silver lines of rain slammed against the glass windows. Medical monitors chimed softly, measuring the steady rhythm of a life about to begin. Marion sat on one side of the bed, her fingers intertwined tightly with Lucia’s. On the other side sat Evie, holding a thick leather portfolio, pretending she had only stopped by to deliver legal paperwork and not because she was utterly incapable of leaving Lucia alone during a major life milestone.
"If you squeeze my hand any harder, Lucia, I won't be able to sign your custody motions," Evie murmured, though she didn't pull away.
"Then stop talking and let me break your fingers," Lucia gasped out through a brutal contraction.
Outside in the quiet, dim corridor, Nico waited.
He was not outside because Lucia had barred him from entering. He was outside because she had simply not invited him in. That subtle distinction meant everything.
A year ago, the old Nico Santoro would have shattered the hospital’s rules. He would have bought an entire wing, stationed armed guards at every door, summoned top surgical specialists from across the continent, and called that overwhelming display of possession 'protection.'
This Nico was different. He had sent a modest bouquet of lilies to the nurses’ station, posted a single guard at the far end of the hallway, and sat quietly on a plastic waiting room chair with a single paper cup of cold coffee. No demands. No threats.
At exactly 2:17 in the morning, Lucia’s daughter entered the world—furious, healthy, and exceptionally loud.
Lucia wept then. Not a single graceful tear, but a sudden, violent sob of relief that emptied months of terror from her chest.
The nurse placed the warm, red-faced infant directly onto her bare chest. "Here she is, mama."
"My Isabella," Lucia whispered, her voice trembling.
May you like
The baby quieted almost instantly at the sound of her mother's voice, her tiny fists curling against Lucia's skin. Marion sobbed openly beside them, wiping her face with a tissue, while Evie coughed awkwardly, clearing her throat and insisting her watery eyes were merely a sudden allergic reaction to hospital sanitizer.
Lucia laughed through her tears. For the first time in nearly a year, the sound didn't hurt.
