Chapter 6 - THE SON WHO CAME IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR
By the time the ambulance reached St. Agnes, Elena was six centimeters dilated.
Roman had blood on his shirt.
None of it belonged to him.
Elena squeezed his hand so hard he thought she might break two fingers.
“You did this.”
“Yes.”
“You are never touching me again.”
“Reasonable.”
The paramedic looked away to hide a smile.
Another contraction hit.
Elena groaned.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“No, currently.”
“Understood.”
The ambulance doors opened.
Doctors rushed her upstairs.
Premature delivery.
Thirty-five weeks.
Neonatal team standing by.
Roman remained near her because Elena had not told him to leave.
That was all the permission he needed.
He did not interpret it as forgiveness.
Labor moved fast.
Too fast.
Elena’s blood pressure rose.
The baby’s heart rate dipped.
A nurse said something about operative delivery.
Then the heart rate recovered.
Elena cried.
Roman wiped her forehead.
She looked at him.
“I’m scared.”
The admission shattered him.
For nine years, Elena had been the person who stayed calm when everyone else lost control.
Roman leaned close.
“I know.”
“Don’t tell me everything will be fine.”
“I won’t.”
“What then?”
He swallowed.
“I’m here.”
She closed her eyes.
That was enough.
At 8:43 a.m., their son was born.
For two terrible seconds, he made no sound.
Roman stopped breathing.
Then—
A scream.
Furious.
Sharp.
Alive.
Elena sobbed.
Roman covered his face.
The pediatric team worked quickly.
Five pounds, nine ounces.
Small.
Good color.
Breathing independently with supplemental oxygen.
Roman stared across the room.
His son.
The boy from the shoes.
The child he had almost lost before meeting.
A nurse brought him close for Elena to see.
She touched one finger to his cheek.
“Hi.”
Roman cried openly.
He did not care who saw.
Later, once the baby was stable in the neonatal unit, Elena slept.
Roman sat beside her.
His phone contained forty-three unread messages.
Bellandi gone.
Sabrina missing.
Two loyal men hospitalized.
One dead.
Three Marino businesses raided overnight.
The old Roman would have left.
The old Roman would have told himself family was safest when he controlled the threat personally.
Roman turned the phone facedown.
Three hours later, Elena woke.
“Baby?”
“Good.”
“Where?”
“NICU.”
She nodded.
“Name?”
Roman looked at her.
“You choose.”
Elena studied him.
“Gabriel.”
He smiled faintly.
“Gabriel Marino.”
“No.”
Roman froze.
She continued:
“Gabriel Vale Marino.”
Her surname.
Roman nodded immediately.
“Gabriel Vale Marino.”
Elena looked almost surprised that he didn’t argue.
He leaned back.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“When you leave the hospital…”
She stiffened.
“I’m not coming home.”
“I know.”
That answer stopped her.
Roman continued.
“If you want White Plains, I’ll pay for security.”
“No.”
“Your own security.”
She waited.
“You choose them.”
Better.
“And if you want nothing from me except child support, I’ll do that.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’m trying to say fewer stupid things.”
A sad smile touched her mouth.
Roman looked toward the NICU hallway.
“I will not fight you for custody.”
Elena went completely still.
“What?”
“I won’t use money.”
“Roman.”
“I won’t use attorneys to make you afraid.”
Her eyes filled.
“You don’t even know if I’m leaving New York.”
“If you do, we work it out.”
“You’d let me?”
He stopped.
The language.
Again.
“You don’t need me to let you.”
Elena looked away.
Roman continued:
“I threw you out of your home without technically saying the words.”
His voice broke.
“I will never do that to you again.”
Silence.
Then Marco entered.
His face was grim.
“Elena.”
“Bad?”
“Depends.”
Roman stood.
“Bellandi?”
“Escaped.”
“Sabrina?”
“Found.”
Roman froze.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Arrested?”
“No.”
Roman stared.
Marco continued:
“She called me.”
Elena frowned.
“Why?”
“She says Bellandi is going to kill her.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
Marco looked toward the hallway where Gabriel lay.
“She also says the hospital is next.”
Roman’s blood ran cold.
Elena sat straighter.
“What does she know?”
May you like
Marco’s answer was simple.
“Enough that she wants to trade it for her life.”
