Chapter 204 Italy
Chapter 204 Italy
Bella’s POV
Three and a half months.
That’s how long it took for the world to almost forget and then remember all over again.
We handled it that night. Draco shut it down like he always does, clean and precise, bending the narrative until it snapped into something useful. Gino buried the proof so deep it might as well have never existed. For a while, it worked. The noise died, conversations shifted, attention moved on to the next scandal, the next mess.
But there are always a few.
There are always the ones who don’t let things go. The ones who dig, who whisper, who keep embers alive just to see if they can start a fire again.
And lately? Those embers have been catching.
“Fucking losers,” I mutter under my breath, scrolling past yet another thread I shouldn’t even be looking at.
Jasmine glances over from her chair, one brow lifting. “You’re not supposed to be stressing.”
“I’m not,” I shoot back flatly, even though we both know that’s a lie.
My hand comes to rest over my stomach, slow and absent, feeling the tight stretch of skin, the weight that’s become constant. Any day now. That’s what everyone keeps saying.
Any day.
“Uh-huh,” Sara hums from across the garden, not even looking up from her phone. “Because talking shit about strangers online is very calming. Super therapeutic.”
I glare in her direction. “If I go into labor, I’m blaming both of you.”
Jasmine snorts. “Please do. I’d love that story.”
Despite myself, I huff out a quiet breath, letting my phone drop to my side as I lean back against the cool stone of the bench.
Italy.
Draco didn’t even hesitate. The second my stress started climbing, he had us on a plane. No discussion. No argument. Just a simple, quiet ‘we’re leaving’, and that was that.
And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.
The air here feels different. Warmer, softer. The kind that settles into your lungs and tells your body to slow down whether you want it to or not. The garden stretches out around us in soft greens and pale blooms, sunlight filtering through the trees in a way that makes everything look like it belongs in a painting.
I grew up here.
Not in this exact place, not with this life, but this country. With this feeling, it’s familiar in a way nothing else is.
After the baby comes, we’re getting married.
That thought settles quietly in my chest, heavier than I expected, but not in a bad way.
Just real.
I shift slightly on the bench, adjusting and then I feel it, along with a very sharp pain.
Warm and sudden.
I freeze.
“no,” I whisper under my breath, looking down instinctively.
There’s a wetness between my legs that definitely wasn’t there a second ago.
“Oh, crap.” I gasped as I clench my teeth through this pain.
Jasmine leans forward immediately. “What?”
Sara looks up at the same time.
I don’t even have to say it.
Their eyes drop. And then they both gasp.
“Oh my God,” Jasmine breathes.
“Oh my God,” Sara echoes, already halfway out of her chair.
Then they start screaming. They’re not panicked. But they’re way too excited.
Loud.
Very loud.
They’re squealing. Actually squealing.
“It’s time!” Jasmine practically shouts, bouncing on her feet like she just won the lottery.
“I’m texting Renzo. Just hold on. Please, don’t move, like you were going anywhere, oh my God!” Sara is already typing at lightning speed, her thumbs flying across the screen.
I blink at them. “You’re both insane,” I mutter, even as another wave of realization settles in.
This is happening.
Now. Then a sharp sudden pain hits me hard. I gasp and place my hands on my swollen stomach.
“Hopefully Draco gets here before you two pass out from excitement and I die from this pain,” I add dryly trying to breathe through this pain.
Jasmine grins. “Oh, he’s coming. Renzo’s probably already dragging him.”
She’s not wrong.
Because not even a few minutes later, the calm, peaceful garden turns into absolute chaos.
I hear footsteps coming fast and heavy.
Voices overlapping.
Draco, Renzo, Giovanni and of course…
“It’s about damn time, donna!” Nico’s voice cuts through everything as they come into view, his grin wide and completely unhelpful. “They gotta meet Uncle Nico!”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not even…” I don’t get to finish.
Draco is already there. Right in front of me.
Everything else fades the second his eyes land on me, sharp and focused, taking in everything at once.
“Hey, cara mia,” he says, his voice lower now, steadier than the chaos around us. “Let’s get you inside.”
Before I can argue, he’s already lifting me, arms sliding under me like I weigh nothing.
I let out a breath. “You do know I can walk, Draco.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, not even pretending to consider putting me down.
“Ms. Independent,” Giovanni adds under his breath, just loud enough to be heard.
I shoot him a look. “I heard that.”
“I know,” he replies, completely unapologetic.
I huff, but I don’t fight it. Because right now, it’s hard to breathe. The pain is coming faster and lasting longer.
Not when another pressure builds low in my stomach, reminding me exactly why we’re moving fast.
The house blurs slightly as Draco carries me inside, his pace quick but controlled, everyone else falling in around us like this is some kind of organized storm.
By the time we reach the room, everything is already set.
Of course it is. Draco doesn’t leave things to chance.
The bed is prepared, clean, ready. Supplies laid out with precision. The quiet efficiency of it all cuts through the chaos, grounding things in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
“Alright,” Mary says as she steps forward, already focused, already in motion. “Get her laid down. I need to check her.”
Dianna moves beside her seamlessly, the two of them working together like they’ve done this a hundred times.
Maybe they have.
Draco lowers me carefully onto the bed, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary before he steps back, but barely.
He’s not going far. Not even close.
I glance between the two doctors, trying to steady my breathing as the reality of this settles fully into place.
This is it.
No more waiting.
No more “any day now.”
Now.
“You’re in good hands,” Draco murmurs, his voice quieter now, meant just for me.
I look up at him, searching his face for that certainty he always carries so easily.
“I just hope you’re right,” I mutter, only half joking.
Because for the first time in a long time, I feel something dangerously close to nervous.