Page 120 of Dark Mafia Bride

He hums low in his throat, clearly not convinced. “And after that? What happens then? We just go our separate ways?”

I swallow hard. “Until we have to meet again for them, yes.”

“This won’t work, Mirabella, and you know it, I know it. We can’t do this...coparenting thing while we’re apart. We just can’t. We are better together as a family.”

A scoff leaves my throat. “So, what, you want me to move back to the Greco Estate?”

He doesn’t even flinch, his gaze locked onto mine as he drives. “I want you to move back home.”

I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know what I want.

Home.I hear the word, and for a fleeting moment, it sounds comforting. But deep down, I know he’s wrong. That place—his house—never truly felt like home. Not when our marriage was nothing more than a façade. Not when his family despised me.

“We don’t have to live as a couple,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “You can stay in a different wing of the house. I just...I worry so much because you’re not close to me. Do you know the torture I’ve been subjected to?” He says it so earnestly, and I can’t ignore how his words tug painfully at my chest.

I force a smile, one that feels too thin, too brittle. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not alone. I have my family.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles white. “I am your family.”

I bite my lower lip to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill, and I turn to look out the window, trying to find something to focus on. Something, anything, to stop the emotions from overtaking me. I want the same things he does. I want us to be a family, but I can’t keep pretending it will be simple.

Even if I do move back, even if I raise our children in his home, it won’t change the fact that his aunts still hate me. Their disdain won’t just disappear. I’ve seen how Ettore interacts with them, how there’s no warmth, no love. It’s cold, and it’s harsh. The last thing I want is for my children to grow up feeling like they don’t belong, like they’re unwanted.

The streets blur past, and I focus on them, on the city’s landscape outside the window as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. The silence between us is heavy, but at least it’s peaceful. He doesn’t push. For now, that’s enough.

A few minutes later, we pull into the hospital parking lot, and Ettore opens the door for me. As I step out, I feel his presence behind me like a shadow. My breath catches when my body brushes against his.

“Come on,” he says, and I follow him, though every step feels like it’s taking me further from the calm I had in the car.

The walk through the hospital and to the doctor’s office feels like an eternity. Finally, we’re seated in a sterile, white room that feels as cold as the silence between us moments ago. But Ettore’s hand still grips mine, and that warmth—his warmth—sends a shiver through me.

“Mr. and Mrs. Greco,” the doctor greets, her smile kind. “It’s lovely to have you both today.”

The appointment begins in earnest, with Ettore asking so many questions that I can’t help but chuckle at his overzealous concern.

“Are you sure she’s getting the right vitamins?”

“What about the risk factors?”

“When should we schedule the next visit?”

“Do you think she should be working a job while also being a student?”

I roll my eyes at the last question.

“I have to work, doctor,” I say, though I can already feel how Ettore’s breathing picks up when I admit that.

“No, you don’t. You justwantto work,” Ettore grumbles, turning to face the doctor again. “I’m sure you’ve dealt with stubborn pregnant women in your years of practice. Could you talk to her? Maybe she’ll listen to you...”

The doctor clears her throat, looking slightly amused.

“Well, it depends on the kind of job. It’s advisable for pregnant women to keep themselves busy, as long as it’s not too physically demanding.”

“See?” I shoot Ettore a smug look, but the doctor isn’t done yet.

“But if those activities involve physical or mental stress, then it’s not safe for the mother or the babies.”

“No stress whatsoever, Doc,” I quickly reply, a little defensive. “I love my job, and I’m pursuing a degree I’m passionate about.”

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