One Hundred & Twenty Three
One Hundred & Twenty Three
Six Months Later…
Six months after the chaos... after bloodshed, betrayals, and revenge... peace had finally settled over the Virello mansion.
The war was over.
The ghosts were gone.
And in their place came the wild, noisy kind of chaos... baby cribs, doctor visits, and one very pregnant Elena who had decided that Dante Virello... feared Mafia Lord, the man who once ruled cities with a single word.… the man who once came to claim her as part of his revenge plan… now existed only to serve her cravings.
“Dante!” Her voice echoed through the mansion like a battle cry. “You bought the wrong pickles again! I said sweet pickles, not sour ones! Do you want me to die?!”
From the hallway, Dante froze mid-step, holding a tray of tea. He turned slowly to Nico, who stood beside him, trying not to laugh.
“Sweet or sour,” Dante muttered, “they’re still pickles, for God’s sake.”
Nico bit back a grin. “Boss, at this point, anything you do wrong could get you killed.”
“Apparently,” Dante sighed, setting the tray down.
A moment later, Elena stormed into his office. Her messy hair framed her glowing but annoyed face. One hand rested on her very round belly, the other waved dramatically as if preparing to start a war.
“You’re laughing, aren’t you?” she accused, squinting at him.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Dante said smoothly, though his lips twitched. “You look beautiful, amore. Radiant.”
“Liar!” she shot back. “You think I’m huge!”
“Not huge,” he said quickly. “Just… powerfully round.”
Nico snorted and pretended to cough when Dante glared at him.
“Powerfully round, huh?” Elena groaned, rubbing her back. “You try carrying two mini versions inside you and see how your back feels!”
That was their life now.… laughter, arguments, kisses, and chaos mixed together like a perfectly imperfect storm.
That peace lasted until that night.
It started just past midnight. Outside, thunder rolled and rain hammered the windows. Dante was asleep, finally getting some rest after two long days of meetings. Elena was curled against him, breathing softly.
Then…
“Dante!”
He shot up, instantly alert. “Yes my love, What’s wrong?”
Elena’s eyes were wide, her hand gripping his arm. “The baby!” she gasped. “No...the babies! They’re coming!”
Dante blinked. “Now?”
“No, Dante, next week!” she yelled, smacking his chest as another contraction hit. “Of course now!”
“Okay, okay!” He jumped out of bed, suddenly a panicked version of himself. The once-feared mafia lord was now a man completely terrified of his wife in labor. “Breathe, love, breathe! Remember what the doctor said….”
“I am breathing!” she screamed. “You’re the one who’s panicking!”
“Where’s the hospital bag?”
“By the door!”
“No, it’s not!”
“Yes, it is….wait…. maybe it’s in the closet! I told you to put it there! You never listen!”
At that moment, Nico burst in, hair sticking up, gun in hand. “Boss, what happened? Are we under attack?”
“Yes!” Elena shouted. “By your boss’s stupidity!”
Nico froze. “Ah… labor?”
“YES LABOR!” Dante barked. “The babies are coming get the car!”
“Yes, boss!” Nico said, spinning on his heel. “I survived bullets, but not this,” he muttered as he ran off.
Within minutes, Dante had Elena wrapped in a coat and half-carried her down the stairs. Every step was a new drama.
“Don’t touch me… wait, help me! Oh, God… Dante, if you ever get me pregnant again, I swear I’ll shoot you!”
Dante blinked, trying to stay calm. “Noted. No more babies.”
“I mean it! I hate you! I hate you so much right now!”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he said, guiding her to the car.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!” she hissed. “You did this to me!”
“Technically, we both….”
“Don’t you technically me, Dante Virello!”
By the time they reached the car, Nico had it waiting, engine running. The rain poured harder as they sped through the empty streets toward the hospital. Every few minutes, Elena yelled, and Dante tried to keep her calm... and failed.
He called her parents mid-drive.
“Matthew, Isabella.…it’s happening,” he said, voice tight. “We’re on the way to Saint Lucia Hospital.”
“We’re coming!” Isabella shouted. “And Dante.… don’t you let her strangle you before she gives birth!”
“I’ll try,” he muttered, swerving slightly as Elena screamed again.
By the time they arrived, nurses were already rushing out with a wheelchair.
Elena gripped Dante’s shirt, glaring at him as they wheeled her inside. “You’re never touching me again! Never!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dante said quickly.
“You hear me?! Never!”
“Yes, love.”
Hours later, the storm outside had quieted... and inside the delivery room, the cries of two newborns filled the air.
A boy and a girl.
Dante stood frozen, watching as the nurse gently placed the tiny bundles into Elena’s arms. The boy had his dark hair. The girl had her mother’s eyes. For the second time in a long, violent life.… Dante Virello cried.
Elena looked up at him, her face tired but glowing. “They’re perfect,” she whispered.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. “Just like their mother.”
She laughed weakly. “You sure you still want to keep arguing with me?”
He smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “After seeing what you just did? I’d be a fool not to worship you for the rest of my life.”
Nico poked his head through the door, grinning from ear to ear. “Congratulations, boss. Two heirs to the Virello throne.”
Dante looked at the babies... his world... and then at the woman who’d given him everything he never thought he’d have.
“Not heirs,” he said quietly, smiling. “Miracles.”
Elena cradled the twins close, tears in her eyes and laughter in her voice. For the first time in years, there was no war, no revenge, no fear just love, warmth, and the peaceful hum of life that finally, finally belonged to them.