CHAPTER 197

CHAPTER 197
It had been hours since the nurse last spoke to them.

The waiting room lights had dimmed slightly, the night pressing against the hospital windows as time dragged on in a strange, elastic way. Vincent sat unmoving in the same chair he had occupied since Matteo had been led away for the blood tests. Amelia sat a short distance from him, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her shoulders stiff with exhaustion. Matteo stood near the wall, eyes fixed on the closed operating-room doors, as if sheer focus might summon them open.

No one spoke.

They were all waiting for the same thing, but each of them feared it for different reasons.

Then, finally, the doors opened.

A doctor stepped out, still dressed in surgical scrubs, his mask pulled down around his neck. He paused when he saw them, his expression difficult to read - relieved, but weighed down by something else. Something heavier.

All three of them stood at once.

Vincent was the first to speak. “Is she…” His voice faltered. He cleared his throat. “Is Viviana okay?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s stable. The surgery was successful.”

Amelia exhaled sharply, her knees almost giving way in relief. Matteo closed his eyes for a brief moment, his shoulders dropping.

“But,” the doctor continued, gently, “there’s more you need to know. We couldn’t save the baby – I’m deeply sorry.”

Vincent stiffened. “What are you talking about? My daughter was not pregnant.”

The doctor hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Viviana suffered significant internal injuries. The bullet entered through the abdomen.”

Vincent nodded slowly. “Yes. I know.”

“She was pregnant,” the doctor said quietly. “About six months along.”

The words didn’t register immediately.

“What baby?” Vincent asked, confusion creasing his face. “Doctor, I think you may be mistaken. Viviana wasn’t…”

“She was,” the doctor said softly affirming what he had just said. “Six months pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Vincent turned slowly toward Amelia. Her face was pale, her expression stricken - but not surprised.

“You knew?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amelia swallowed hard. “I suspected. I wasn’t certain… but yes. I knew enough.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Vincent asked, stunned.

“It wasn’t my secret,” Amelia said quietly. “I wanted her to tell you herself.”

Vincent turned back to the doctor, his mind reeling. “The baby…?”

The doctor’s expression softened with sympathy. “I’m very sorry. The bullet caused too much trauma. We weren’t able to save the baby.”

Vincent sank back into his chair as if the strength had been pulled straight from his bones.

After a long moment, he asked, “Who was the father?”

Amelia hesitated, then answered honestly. “I’m not entirely sure. But… it was most likely Adrian.”

Something dark passed over Vincent’s face - anger, grief, disbelief, all tangled together. He pressed a hand to his forehead, shaking his head slowly.

“My vice president betrayed me. My lawyers betrayed me,” he said hoarsely. “And now I find out my own daughter was carrying a child with the same man who tried to destroy everything.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “What kind of world have I been living in?”

“This isn’t the time for anger,” Amelia said gently. “She’s alive and she needs her family. That’s what matters right now.”

Vincent nodded, though his eyes were glassy. “You’re right.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “She’s resting now. The next few hours are critical, but she’s responding well. You’ll be able to see her once she wakes up.”

When the doctor left, the weight of everything he had said lingered heavily in the air.

Vincent stared at the floor. “He told me he was in love with you,” he said suddenly. “Adrian. He said it like it meant something.”

Amelia looked up. “That was part of the manipulation,” she said. “He needed leverage. Either me or Viviana.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened. “And I believed him.”

Amelia studied her father quietly. He looked older than she had ever seen him, worn down not by age but by betrayal.

She thought of the letters. Of the attic. Of her mother’s pain.

And she said nothing.

Later, when they were finally allowed into Viviana’s room, the air was thick with the hum of machines and the steady rhythm of a heart monitor. Viviana lay pale against the white sheets, her face slack with medication, tubes and IV lines tracing fragile paths along her arms.

Vincent moved to her side immediately, his hand hovering before gently closing around hers.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Daddy?” she murmured weakly.

“I’m here,” Vincent said quickly. “I’m here.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion bleeding into fear. “The baby,” she whispered. “Is my baby okay?”

No one answered.

Viviana’s eyes moved from face to face, searching. Amelia looked away, tears stinging her eyes. Matteo stood frozen, helpless.

The silence told her everything.

Tears streamed down Viviana’s face as her lips trembled. “It’s gone,” she whispered. “It’s really gone.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, sobs wracking her body. “It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.”

Vincent leaned closer, his voice breaking. “Viviana…”

“I hated the baby sometimes,” she cried. “I didn’t even want it at first. I wished it would disappear.”

Her sobs grew harsher. “And now it’s gone. I can never take that back.”

Amelia stepped forward slowly, her own heart aching. “Viviana… please don’t do this to yourself.”

Viviana shook her head weakly. “I should have known who Adrian really was. The moment he said he didn’t want the baby… I should have known.”

She turned her face toward the pillow, her shoulders trembling as silent tears soaked into the sheets. Vincent remained beside her, holding her hand, his head bowed, unable to find words that could reach the depth of her grief.

Amelia stood a short distance away, watching them, her chest tight with a pain she could neither name nor escape. Some losses, she realized, did not announce themselves with noise. They simply hollowed a space inside you and stayed there.

The door to the room opened softly.

They all turned.

A doctor stepped inside, his expression professional but serious. He hesitated when he saw Viviana awake, then cleared his throat gently.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he said. “But… Mr. Cruz?”

Matteo looked up immediately. “Yes?”

The doctor met his eyes. “Do you have a moment? There’s something we need to discuss. It’s about the tests we took earlier.”

The room seemed to still.

Matteo nodded once and stepped forward his heart ponding in anticipation.