Hope

Hope
I pull my husband’s hand, not letting him get up from the hospital bed. I’ve kept him here while I recover from my injuries. When I arrived, I was treated by a plastic surgeon who closed the wound from my neck to my forearm. According to him, I won’t have scars. I’m grateful for that—I didn’t want a mark reminding me of the terror I endured at the hands of that despicable man.

“I still can’t believe you had the courage to shoot Samuel with Hope in his hands!” Emily protests, tapping her brother on the shoulder.
“And if she had died?”
“I wanted him to shoot,” I say to her. “I asked for it.”
“I would never put her in danger,” Michael says. “He knew exactly what he was doing.”
“And she ended up with a huge cut!” Emily yells, holding her head and taking a deep breath. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asks Steve, who has been on guard since he arrived with Black and my father.
“I wasn’t there. If the Boss made that decision, I can’t contest him.”

No one can. Michael is the Boss and acted during a mission; even my father didn’t dare to reprimand him. It would have been disrespectful and would show that Michael has weak subordinates who question his decisions. But Emily is different—she treats him as a brother, not as a Boss. At least within the family, she acts freely; in front of others, she remained silent.

“You guys are unbelievable!”
“Milly,” I call in a whining voice. “I really want a sweet treat, and you won’t let me eat anything. Can you smuggle one for me?”
“I’m the one who needs a sweet after all this chaos.” She strides out of the room.

Steve, who had been watching from the window with his arms crossed, approaches the bed. My brother is already an adult at 27, with green eyes like two emeralds and light brown hair almost leaning toward blond. He’s about to become second-in-command in Las Vegas after Black becomes Capo. I miss the sleepless nights we spent playing video games in his room.

His hand rises, gently touching my hair, and he smiles, leaning down to kiss my head. I close my eyes, enjoying his affection. Michael beside me tries to get up, but I don’t allow it. I’m emotionally dependent on my husband and won’t let him leave.

“It’s just the three of us here,” he says softly, staring at my husband. “Tell me the truth—why did you put Hope in danger by shooting before she was released? The guy had a knife pressed to her neck. Even for the best shooter, that was risky.”
“Samuel is my brother,” I tell him. “Benjamin had a son with the ex-wife of the old Boston Boss. That child was Samuel. He wanted revenge on our father and would reveal in front of everyone that I was his sister. If Michael hadn’t shot to silence him, everyone would have heard—and, well, you know what would have happened.” I tilt my head, resting on Michael’s shoulder. “I hold no resentment toward my husband for doing what I asked, and as I told Black and our father, I tell you now.”

There’s no doubt Michael will always protect me.
“I understand,” he nods and stands.
“I had no choice,” Michael says, holding me close. “I hate that I hurt Hope—she’s the most important person in my life.” His eyes meet mine, overflowing with affection. “And I’ll keep asking for forgiveness every day for the wound.”
“And I’ll throw a pan at your head if you don’t stop that,” I snap, gripping his chin. “I just want to leave all this behind. Finally, this hell is over.”

“Steve,” Michael looks at him with a playful expression, “has she always been this violent, or did it get worse after marriage?”
“You’re lucky she doesn’t have a pan in her hand,” my brother scratches his head. “During her PMS, Hope turns into a beast—I’ve been hit just for asking how she was.”

I laugh at his exaggeration.

There’s a knock, and then the bedroom door opens. My father and Black enter, accompanied by my mother. She comes to me with open arms, hugging me tightly and kissing my head. My husband tries to escape again, but I place a leg over him.
“Stay there,” I tell him.
“This is kidnapping,” Black says, laughing.
“Call it whatever you want. I’m the patient and demand the best care.”
“Let the men go work,” my mother says, stroking my hair. “I’ll take care of you.”
“The offer is tempting,” I lean toward her, “but this man isn’t going anywhere.”
“Hope, dear,” she strokes my cheek, “your husband needs to work. Outside these walls, the ladies and their daughters are waiting to give gifts and wishes of recovery. Let’s honor the conventions, then you can enjoy your husband.”
“I don’t want to.” I wrinkle my nose, laying on Michael’s chest.
“Use your authority to send them all away.”
“Don’t be spoiled, Hope,” my mother says.

Michael chuckles deeply against my head before standing. I guess I have no choice.
“I’ll return tonight; Steve will stay and keep you safe.” He kisses my cheek.
“Okay, bring a sweet,” I ask.
“You and your sweet tooth,” he tilts his head. “You’ve been craving it for a week.”
“And it only grows.”

Another knock reminds us that people are waiting to see me. Michael kisses me and leaves with the men. My brother stays in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair while I receive the ladies of the family. I spend the rest of the day fulfilling my duties and enjoying the chocolates they bring with the flowers. My mother stays with me, and when night comes, she asks Steve to step out for a while. She sits at the foot of my bed and holds my hand.

“I want to talk to you,” she says, stroking my fingers. “Your father told me you told Michael the truth about our family. I was shocked at first, but seeing how much this man loves you, I realized you had no other choice. Only love can heal a wounded soul. If it weren’t for your father, I don’t even know what would have happened to me.” She starts to cry, and my heart aches seeing her suffer.
“You were never afraid of Bartolomeu, even though he had Benjamin’s face. Why?” I ask the question I’ve always been afraid to hear directly from her.
“Because I love your father.” She smiles as if nothing could hurt her heart. “I knew who hurt me and who fought for me. It was difficult at first, but Benjamin and Bartolomeu were always completely different people to me. Even though they looked identical, I didn’t see them that way. But the sign you have was always a strong trigger—I keep fighting every day to overcome that trauma and be a real mother to you.”
“Mom…” Tears fill my eyes uncontrollably.
“I know you love me. I love you too, very much. And it’s mainly for you, for the day we’ll be able to celebrate your birthday together, that I’ve been trying so hard. This year with you away, I felt a new pain,” she places her hand on her chest, “longing that suffocated me more than any outburst, the desire to have you close and hold you tight. It may have taken years, but I’m getting there, my girl. Slowly, and when you’re ready to let me be part of this moment, I’ll run to hug you.”
“Can you hug me now?” I ask, sobbing.
“Always.”

She wraps me in her slender arms, pressing her cheeks against mine as I cry, feeling her sweet scent. She strokes my hair, filling me with affection. I also long for the day we can celebrate my birthday together, leaving the bitter past behind once and for all.

At dinner, Michael returns carrying a well-served tray. My mother and Steve leave, and I dine with my husband. He hands me a strawberry chocolate, smiling mischievously. I kiss him before savoring the sweet chocolate mixed with strawberry. We lie down in bed, his arm around my head, hand stroking my hair.

“Today we finished interrogating Samuel’s men. Want to know what we found?”
“Yes.”
“Bartolomeu, Black, Steve, and I led the interrogations in case anything went wrong. None of them knew Samuel and you were siblings. They only knew he was Benjamin’s son with Cecília, Zacharias’ ex. So what was reported to the organization—since I had to explain why you were kidnapped—was that Samuel, Benjamin’s son, gained access to our organization’s operations and information for revenge against your father, believing Bartolomeu caused his father’s death, not a conflict with Argentine criminal organizations.”

I shift slightly, feeling pain as I lay my head on Michael’s chest.

“While Benjamin was in Argentina, he contacted criminal organizations in Bolivia, Chile, and Brazil, creating a trafficking network. When captured, Samuel, then 20, took charge of the organization. Using the codename Serpente, he expanded it into a network of assassins and spies. By now, he was around 40. He infiltrated Boston, struck the organization that killed his mother.”
“He said you caused a fire that burned him—was that in the Boston warehouse?”
“Yes, Trent set everything on fire under my orders, but Samuel hid in a secret passage and escaped, though burned in the process. We captured Samuel’s right-hand man alive—he had been with him since Benjamin’s time. Benjamin kept his paternity secret to protect you, but everyone knew he wanted you. They believed it was to marry Samuel and get revenge on Bartolomeu by putting you through suffering, at least that’s what Samuel told them when they went to Las Vegas to propose marriage to your father.”

“Where is Trent? He hasn’t visited me yet.”
“Trent died during Samuel’s attack.” Michael’s voice cracks; I stroke his chest, comforting him.
“I liked Trent.” Small tears escape my eyes. “I’m sorry he died.”
“He was a loyal soldier and honorable man. We’ll give him a proper funeral.”
“Yes, and comfort his family.”
“Of course.” He kisses the top of my head. “Samuel’s plan was for me to destroy Boston for him, which I did, following the rat’s script while searching for him. His true organization allied with a known mercenary group.”
“I remember him saying he killed Ícaro and injured you.”
“That was during the mission when I returned with the gunshot wound. When we found Ícaro in the hideout, he spoke about his mother having an affair but didn’t know with whom—only that it was someone influential who escaped with the baby but left Cecília to die. Then Samuel appeared, causing chaos in their organization. After that, mercenaries attacked us, and Ícaro was killed—now we know it was Samuel’s orders.”
“And the club? How did they get me there?”
“Your observations about staff changes were correct. The bastard acted under our noses. Every staff departure had an explanation, and incoming personnel had clean records. Every month, he planted two new people, men and women, ready to act when ordered. They released sleeping gas into the ducts and put soporifics in meals. They disabled cameras and acted quickly to capture you and escape. It was all planned—the routes, how to delay us.”
“I can’t believe he did all that for revenge.”
“It was massive, but he didn’t expect I’d mobilize the entire Bianchi Mafia to get you back. We acted fast, sealing the state, forcing him to retreat in Brooklyn and try to escape through tunnels his father had blueprints of. Even Andrew was useful in the rescue mission.”
“Really?” I wrinkle my nose.
“Yes, Andrew has a twisted sense in his head. But he knows how to be a good leader, that’s undeniable—no wonder the older members of the organization respect him, even after being sidelined.”
“And they make it hard for you to make him disappear,” I whisper.
“A thorn in my side. Your attacking Samuel, though dangerous, gave us time to raid the house before he took you to the tunnels. I saw you through the window—I nearly died of fear for your life.”
“Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I ask again. Michael made me recount in detail what Samuel said and did to me while I was kidnapped. At no point did he get angry that I fought back—we know that if it had been a kidnapping for murder, staying quiet and waiting for rescue could have resulted in my death. Neither of us blames the other for the choices we made; we accept them and together overcome adversity.

“It won’t be necessary, but we’ll continue intensifying your training. If it happens again, I want you to be able to escape. I’ll handle the rest.”
“Okay.” I kiss his chest. I love the confidence Michael has in me and how he doesn’t treat me like a helpless princess, but instead pushes me to be strong.

“After we got information about Samuel, I mobilized a team to destroy the organization he created. Kai is the leader and he’s in Argentina now, causing real chaos for those bastards.”
“I love how my husband scares people,” I say proudly.
“And I love your strength.” He kisses my lips. “Let’s rest now.”

I wake to conversations in the room. Michael is standing, talking to the doctor.
“Are you sure about the exact timing?” the doctor asks.
“Yes, she stopped a month ago,” Michael responds.
“Stopped what?”
“Taking the birth control,” my husband answers, sitting beside me. “In your records, your mother told the nurse you were using the pills. The doctor came to confirm, and I’m clarifying that you stopped.”
“I understand,” I look at the doctor. “Is there any problem?”
“No, actually, I think it’s good news.” He approaches, handing me a sheet of test results. “When you entered the hospital earlier this week, we ran a series of tests, including a Beta hCG. This morning I received all the results. But since your file indicated birth control use, I needed to confirm to make sure the Beta hCG was accurate. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Bianchi—you’re going to have a baby. The pregnancy is in the early stage, 13 days along.”

Before Michael, I thought I would never hear these words and feel happiness. But at this very moment, staring into my husband’s blue eyes, seeing the smile forming on his lips, the pronounced dimples, and his arms surrounding me carefully so as not to hurt my injuries, an explosion of happiness bursts in every corner of my soul.

Tears fill my eyes as I hug Michael with my left arm. I sob with joy, cheeks aching from happiness, eyes nearly closing, vision completely blurred. My husband kisses my neck several times before cupping my face and kissing my forehead with a tenderness that touches my soul.

“We’re going to have a baby,” I say, laughing, placing my hand on my belly. Michael covers mine with his and crouches to touch it.
“Hello there, little one. Daddy is already eager to meet you.”

I laugh, my happiness impossible to contain. The doctor quietly leaves the room, smiling at me. I stroke my husband’s hair while he speaks to our baby. The joy of this moment shared between us is overwhelming. More than ever, I feel the bubble Michael wraps me in expanding with the most sublime feeling there is.

Love bathed in happiness.

I’m taking the first steps toward having my family—an exclusive, unique fruit of the union between my soul and Michael’s, proving that love can heal and overcome everything. No matter the difficulty, if we accept our true feelings and fight for them, nothing can destroy the bond of two passionate and free spirits.