Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 214 - 24 ~ Mira

Hospital rooms were strange things.

Too white. Too quiet. Too bright in the wrong places and too dim in others. They always carried this strange smell — sterile, cold, like nothing warm or comforting had ever lived there.

But Jace’s presence in the room made everything else fade.

He hadn’t moved from my side since he walked in. Not even for a second. I could see it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the exhaustion around his eyes, the faint tremor in his fingers when he brushed my cheek.

He’d barely made it in the door before he held me like he was afraid I’d disappear if he blinked too long.

Now he was sitting in the small hospital chair beside my bed, refusing to relax, refusing to even take off his coat. His thumb stroked the back of my hand slowly, as if trying to ground us both.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked quietly.

"Mostly." I shifted a little. "The bed is weird."

His jaw tightened. "I’ll have them bring extra pillows."

"Jace... no." I squeezed his hand. "I’m okay."

He didn’t look convinced. He stared at me like he was memorizing every breath I took, every blink, every tiny movement in case he needed to report it to some invisible force threatening us.

The nurse came in to check my vitals and he straightened immediately, his entire body tensing like she was entering a war zone.

She smiled politely.

"Blood pressure is coming down nicely, Mrs. Romano. Baby’s heartbeat is strong."

Jace exhaled. It sounded like the kind of exhale you give when you’ve been holding your breath for too long.

The nurse left us alone again, and he leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead.

"You scared me," he whispered.

"You scared me too," I murmured back.

His thumb grazed my cheek. "Never again, Mira. I can’t—"

His voice faltered. "I can’t go through that again."

The weight of his fear pressed against my chest. I stroked his knuckles gently, trying to ease him.

"I didn’t collapse," I whispered. "I just—"

"You almost did."

His voice was low, controlled, but full of a burning intensity.

"I saw the footage Tomas sent. One second you were standing, the next your legs gave out. You caught yourself at the last second, you think that doesn’t count?"

I swallowed. "I... didn’t know he filmed it."

"He didn’t," he said tightly. "He reacted. The bakery cameras did."

I fell silent.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead again, letting his breath linger there like he didn’t want to move even an inch away.

"You should lie back," he murmured. "Rest."

"I will," I whispered. "But stay with me."

"I’m not going anywhere."

He said it so quietly, like it was a promise carved from the bones of who he was.

I slipped my fingers through his hair gently. He closed his eyes at the touch like it soothed something bruised inside him.

"How was your flight?" I asked softly.

His eyes opened. Dark. Stormy.

"Long."

The word carried too much weight to unpack tonight.

I pressed my palm to his cheek. "You made it. That’s what matters."

He turned his head and pressed a kiss into my hand. "I’ll always make it back to you."

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Dr. Hale entered . She was a petite woman with gentle eyes and tired shoulders, clearly on the tail end of a double shift.

"Mrs. Romano," she said, offering a small smile. "How are you feeling now?"

Jace’s arm instantly went around me, protective and tense.

"I’m... better," I said softly.

Dr. Hale nodded and glanced at the monitor. "Your blood pressure was dangerously elevated when you arrived. It’s stabilizing now, but we need to understand what triggered it."

She looked at me carefully. "Have you been under any stress recently?"

I froze.

Jace stiffened beside me.

We both knew the answer.

We both knew exactly what had been gnawing at my peace — the article, the photos, the media digging into our life, the unfamiliar shadows in places that used to feel safe.

But I wasn’t ready to talk about that.

Not here.

Not with Jace already feeling guilty enough to shatter.

"I’ve just been... working a lot," I finally whispered.

Dr. Hale nodded slowly but didn’t look convinced.

"Overexertion can absolutely cause spikes like this," she said. "But so can emotional stress. And unfortunately, pregnancy heightens your body’s reaction to both. You’re at a point where your system can’t tolerate what it used to."

Jace clenched his jaw so hard I could feel the tension radiating off him.

"So what now?" I asked softly.

"You’re not being discharged tonight," Dr. Hale said. "We need to monitor you closely for at least the next twelve hours. If your pressure remains stable, you can go home in the morning."

She continued gently, "But I want strict rest for the next week. Light movement, no long shifts, no extended hours on your feet, and—"

"She will follow all of it," Jace said before she could finish. "Every single line."

Dr. Hale smiled lightly. "Good."

Great. He was about to unlock a whole new level of overprotection.

Then she turned to me. "And one more thing, Mira. If you feel dizzy, lightheaded, short of breath, or if your vision blurs again — even for a second — come straight back here. Don’t wait. Don’t assume it will pass."

I nodded slowly, letting her words sink in.

"We want both you and your daughter safe," she finished softly.

"Thank you doctor," I whispered.

She gave a reassuring smile and left.

The moment the door clicked shut, Jace released a breath like he’d been holding back an entire ocean.

"Mira," he said softly, "you’re going to slow down."

I stared at him. "I know."

"I mean it." He said intently.

"I know." I reiterated, blowing out a breath. The problem here was I didn’t know if sitting in one spot would help an already bad situation. My mind had be roving a lot lately and I worked to distract myself and even that didn’t help. So how was bed rest going to do me any better?

His fingers threaded through mine, trembling slightly before he steadied them.

"You can’t scare me like that again."

The fear in his eyes was raw. Bare. Almost painful to look at.

I touched his cheek gently. "I’ll try. I promise."

He leaned into my hand, then kissed my palm.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he said:

"You’re my whole world."

I didn’t have time to respond because the nurse returned with extra blankets. She arranged them carefully, fluffing pillows and adjusting the hospital bed so I could sit up with less strain.

"Try to rest," she said softly before leaving again.

But sleep didn’t come.

Not yet.

Jace stayed sitting beside me, one hand resting protectively over my stomach, his thumb brushing tiny circles.

Our daughter responded with a soft kick, almost like she was calming him.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Hey baby girl, I missed you."

"She missed daddy too," I whispered with a slight smile.

"Hmm." He stretched and kissed me gently. I sighed into the kiss, realizing how much I had missed him in that moment.

"You should rest." He said when we pulled apart.

"And you," I murmured, "are tired."

"I’m fine."

"You’re not." I retorted.

He sighed, and for the first time since he arrived, he looked... worn out. Truly worn out. "Come here," I said, barely above a whisper.

"I don’t want to hurt you." His concern was evident.

"You won’t"

I lifted his hand and tugged, guiding him gently.

He hesitated, then finally stood, toeing off his shoes before sitting on the edge of the bed. I scooted over just enough, not too much, and he slid in carefully, lying beside me on top of the blankets. His arm rested around my shoulders, warm, safe, familiar.

The steady weight of him grounded me instantly.

He tucked me against his chest and exhaled into my hair.

"This is the only way I’m sleeping."

"Good," I whispered with a small smile. "I like it better when you’re right here."

His fingers stroked my arm in slow, soothing lines.

"Next time," he murmured, "if anything feels off — anything — you call me."

I nodded.

"No bakery. No long hours. No pretending you’re fine."

"Okay."

"No stress."

"Jace..."

"I know," he admitted softly. "I can’t control everything. But I can protect you. And I will."

I sighed and nestled closer. "I know you will."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The machines beeped steadily.

The room dimmed as the night settled around us.

For a long moment, my heart felt weightless, not from fear, not from panic but from the soft, warm reality of being held by the man who loved me more fiercely than life itself.

He rested his forehead against mine.

"Sleep, Mira."

And for the first time in hours, sleep finally came. It was peaceful, stead as I was safely wrapped in the arms of the man who refused to let go.