Chapter 166 Chapter 166

Chapter 166 Chapter 166
It wasn't a rival. It was his blood. It was my blood. It was the ultimate, physical proof of our eternal, unbreakable reign. An hour later, the medical checkup was complete, and we walked slowly dow the spiral staircase leading back to the  living quarters. Nikolai didn't carry me, I had explicitly forbidden him from treating me like an invalid, but his arm was locked securely around my waist, his broad hand resting over my hip, guiding every step I took with razor-sharp vigilance.

When we stepped out into the grand upper hallway, the house was filled with the quiet, comforting sounds of mid-afternoon. The families had departed two days prior to return to their respective posts, leaving the  estate back in the hands of our core inner circle. Pedro was sitting by the stone fireplace in the  living room, reading a leather-bound history of European maritime trade while sipping espresso. Across the room, Anabella was neatly folding a stack of soft, hand-embroidered white wool blankets that had been sent as a gift from Cousin Sofia in Genoa.

Near the window, Stefan and Esme were quietly reviewing the evening security patrol routes on a tablet. As Nikolai and I entered the room, the quiet chatter faded away. Everyone looked up, their eyes immediately searching our faces for news. He stopped in the center of the room, his broad frame standing tall, proud, and completely unshakeable. He didn't say a word. He simply slid his heavy arm around my shoulders, pulling me flush against his side, his palm coming down flat over my stomach in a clear, sovereign declaration.

Pedro set his leather book down on his lap, his sharp dark eyes narrowing slightly as he observed his nephew's face. He saw the shift immediately, the cold, defensive mania replaced by an immense, formidable pride. "Well?" Pedro asked, his deep voice rich with quiet anticipation.
"Twelve weeks," I announced softly, a radiant smile warming my features. "The doctor said the baby is healthy. We heard the heartbeat today."

Anabella let out a soft, joyful gasp, bringing her hands up to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, thank God! Thank God!" Pedro stood up slowly from his chair, his tall frame uncurling as a broad, rare grin broke across his weathered face. He walked over to us with heavy, deliberate steps, stopping right in front of Nikolai.
Pedro looked at his son for a long, quiet moment, then reached out, placing his broad hands heavily on Nikolai’s shoulders, giving them a firm, emotional squeeze.

"You heard it?" Pedro asked softly.
"I heard it," Nikolai said, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath, his pitch-black eyes burning with an intense, steady fire. "It sounds like a war drum, Dad."
Pedro let out a loud, booming laugh that resonated off the high timber beams of the ceiling. "A Ferro war drum! What else did you expect, son? A quiet flute?"

Stefan let out a loud cheer from the window, tossing his tablet onto the sofa and walking over to clap Nikolai heavily on the back. "A little Don running around the estate! I'm going to teach them how to drive the speedboat before they're five!"
"You aren't teaching my child anything involving a boat until they're twenty," Nikolai growled flatly, though a faint, rare twitch of a smirk touched the corner of his lips.

"We'll see about that,cousin!" Stefan grinned, unbothered by the warning. Esme walked over, giving me a soft, careful hug, being mindful not to press too hard against my waist under Nikolai’s watchful eye. "I'm so happy for you, Isla," she whispered genuinely. "You look so beautiful."
"Thank you, Esme," I said, squeezing her hands warmly.

Maria came busting through the swinging doors of the kitchen, holding a large wooden spoon like a baton, her apron dusted with white flour. "Is it good news? Did Evelyn give her a clean checkup?"
"Cleanest checkup in the state, Maria," Pedro called back with a grin.

Maria let out a loud exclamation in rapid Italian, crossing herself twice before marching straight up to me. She ignored Nikolai entirely, she was the only person in the entire Western Hemisphere who dared to brush past the Don and placed her warm, flour-dusted hands gently on the sides of my arms.
"Now," Maria commanded sternly, her dark eyes shining with fierce maternal love. "You sit on that sofa, you put your feet up, and I am bringing you fresh gnocchi with parmesan broth. No more corporate reports today. You are feeding my future Don!"

"Yes, Maria," I agreed with a laugh, allowing myself to be guided toward the oversized leather sofa near the fireplace. That night, long after the rest of the house had gone to sleep, the estate rested under a quiet blanket of silver moonlight. I lay in our bed, resting on my side against the heavy down pillows. Nikolai lay right beside me, completely bare-chested, his massive body curled around my back like a protective iron shell. His arm was draped over my waist, his hand resting flat over my lower stomach, where our baby slept beneath my skin.

He hadn't stopped touching my stomach since we came downstairs. Every few minutes, his thumb would trace a slow, gentle circle over my skin, his deep, rhythmic breathing warm against the back of my neck. "Nikolai?" I whispered softly into the dim, quiet room.
"I'm awake," his gravelly voice growled low against my ear, deep and vibrating.
"Are you still worried?" I asked, turning my head slightly on the pillow so I could look at his dark profile in the moonlight.

He remained quiet for a long, thoughtful beat. His eyes were fixed on his own hand resting over my belly. "I was a fool," he murmured low, the admission heavy and quiet. "I thought... I thought this baby was going to take pieces of you away from me. I thought I was going to have to fight to keep your eyes on me."
"And now?" I asked gently, reaching down to weave my fingers through his. He shifted slightly, leaning over me, his dark, intense eyes locking onto mine with an absolute, terrifying devotion that made my soul soar.

"Now I know that this child is my blood protecting your blood," he said softly, leaning down to press a slow, deep, possessive kiss against my lips. "This baby is ours, Isla. Built by us. Owned by us. And I will build a wall around both of you that no man in this world will ever break." I smiled against his mouth, wrapping my arm around his neck, pulling him down into a slow, intoxicating kiss that tasted of pure peace and triumph.

"We build it together Nikolai," I murmured against his cheek.
"Together," he promised low in his throat, his hand pressing flat over my stomach as the quiet night wrapped around our invincible fortress. By the second week of my fifth month, my body had made its peaceful, undeniable declaration to the world.