The Don’s Soulmate

60. Carlotta

Chapter 60

Carlotta

The moment we reach the hospital, doors swing open. I hear Ettore's heavy footsteps fade as he rushes out of the car, screaming for help. I can already smell the scent of antiseptic as I cradle our tiny, precious child against my chest.

"Hang on, little one," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Papa's getting help."

Sofia's sharp voice cuts through the chaos. "We need a gurney, now! There's a woman who just gave birth prematurely in the car outside."

I marvel at the fierce determination in my friend's tone as she fights to take over a gurney reserved at the entrance for someone else. Even in this moment of crisis, Sofia's commanding presence makes itself known. A flurry of activity erupts around us as hospital staff respond to her urgent demand.

My thoughts race as help takes time to come. The reality settles in. While Vittorio is dead and gone, my baby is born a month earlier. Will he be alright? What if something goes wrong? The fear is overwhelming, but I force it down, focusing on the warm weight in my arms.

I close my eyes, willing strength into my exhausted body. Ettore is fighting for us with everything he has. I need to focus on feeling stronger so I can care for the baby.

Through the shattered windows, Sofia's voice pierces through my thoughts again. "Where the hell is that gurney? Every second counts!"

I open my eyes to see her standing protectively in front of me, her tall frame blocking out the harsh fluorescent lights. Even now, she's shielding me from the world, just as she's always done.

"Sofia," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

She turns, her brown eyes filled with worry and fierce love. "Save your strength, cara. Help is coming."

As if summoned by her words, I hear the squeak of wheels approaching rapidly. Ettore's voice, usually so controlled, now rings out with raw desperation. "Here! We're here!"

I cradle my baby boy closer, his tiny form impossibly light in my arms. The pain that wracked my body moments ago seems distant now, overshadowed by the overwhelming love I feel for this precious life.

"He's so beautiful," I whisper, tracing a finger along his delicate cheek. "My little miracle."

The hospital doors burst open, startling me. A team of medical professionals rushes towards the car, their faces set with grim determination. One of them, a woman with kind eyes, leans in.

"Ms. D'Amici? I'm Dr. Rossi. We need to get you and your baby inside immediately."

I nod, unable to find my voice. As they prepare to move us, I can't help but think, "Will they separate us? I can't bear to let him go."

"Carlotta," Ettore's voice cuts through my panic. "They need to check the baby. It'll be okay, I promise."

As they begin to move us, I cling to that promise, knowing that if Ettore says it’ll be okay, it will be. He’s never disappointed me.

Gentle hands guide me onto a gurney, but my eyes never leave my baby's face. The bright hospital lights assault my senses as we move swiftly through the corridors, the sterile smell making my stomach churn.

"My baby," I murmur, my voice trembling. "He's so small."

A nurse appears beside me, her voice soothing. "We need to take him to the NICU now, Ms. D'Amici. He needs immediate care."

I look into Ettore's eyes, searching for reassurance. He smiles and nods. With a shaky nod, I release my grip on the baby, letting the nurse take him.

She cuts the umbilical cord, and as she takes my baby away, I feel a piece of my heart go with him. "Will he be okay?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

The nurse squeezes my hand. "He's in good hands. He looks healthy, but will need special care and a check-up."

I watch them disappear down the hall, my body trembling with exhaustion and worry.

As they wheel me into a room, I cling to Ettore's hand and feel a strange sense of peace. Whatever comes next, we'll face it as one.

Settled in the room after a routine check-up, everything rushes back. For months, I was denied medical care because of my father and Ugo Caputo splattering my images all over the TV. I had to give birth to my son with an assassin at my heels.

Anything could have happened.

My son could have died.

Had it been just my safety I was worried about, I would have never thought of what I planned to do. But the anger bubbling inside me finally boils over. I snatch my phone from the bedside table, my fingers trembling as I punch in my father's number. The weight of everything that's happened crashes down on me, and I feel my throat tighten.

"Carlotta?" My father's voice crackles through the speaker. "Where are you? It’s been months! We've been worried sick!"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Papa, I need you to listen carefully." My voice wavers, but I press on. "I'm at the hospital."

"What? That bastard Ettore-"

"Let me finish," I cut him off, surprising myself with my firmness. "Ugo... he tried to kill me. He's not the man you think he is."

I can hear my father's sharp intake of breath. "Carlotta, what are you saying?"

"He's cruel, Papa. He would have left me and the baby to die if..." I pause, my eyes flicking to Ettore, who stands guard by the door. "If Ettore hadn't been."

"The baby?" My father's voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "What are you saying, Carlotta?"

I grip the phone tighter, my resolve strengthening. "Ettore Mancini and I are in love. He didn’t kidnap me, Papa. In fact, Ugo Caputo sent assassins on our heels and Ettore's the reason your grandson is alive."

There's a long silence on the other end. I can almost see my father's face, the conflict warring deep within. With a grandson in the picture, everything changes. When he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. "Tell me everything, tesoro. From the beginning."

“I owe you no answers,” I scream into the phone. “You almost got us killed.”

My father's voice trembles with a mix of disbelief and barely contained rage. "Carlotta, you can't be serious. I would never harm you."

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. "You're wrong, Papa. I feel hurt when you support this marriage with Ugo. I know who Ettore is, and he’s not the monster you make him out to be. I... I love him."

The words hang in the air, heavy with their implications. I glance at Ettore, his blue eyes intense as they lock with mine. He nods almost imperceptibly, and I feel a surge of strength.

"Have you lost your mind?" My father's voice rises. "After everything our family has been through because of the Mancinis-"

"I don't care about old feuds," I interrupt, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. "Ettore saved me. He saved your grandson. That's all that matters now."

There's a long pause. When my father speaks again, his tone is laced with concern and confusion. "Carlotta, tesoro, you're not thinking clearly. You've been through a trauma. Let me come get you, we'll sort this out-."

"No," I say firmly, surprising myself with the steel in my voice. "I'm not coming home, Papa. Ettore and I... we're leaving the country. Together."

"What?" The shock in his voice is palpable. "Carlotta, you can't-"

"We can, and we will," I declare, my resolve strengthening with each word. "I'm sorry, but this is my decision. You won't see us again. In fact, you’ll never lay your eyes on our grandson. Please... know that I love you, but this is the path I've chosen."

I end the call abruptly, my heart racing as I lower the phone. A whirlwind of emotions surges through me – guilt, fear, exhilaration, love. I take a deep breath, pushing it all aside. Right now, there's only one thing that matters.

"My baby," I whisper, my hand instinctively moving to my now-empty belly. "I need to see him."

As if on cue, the door opens, and Sofia rushes in. Her brown eyes are wide with concern, but there's a determined set to her jaw that I've come to know well over the years.

"Carlotta," she breathes, hurrying to my side. She takes my hand, squeezing it gently. "How are you feeling? They told me the baby is in the NICU. He's small, but they say he's fighting. I just went and checked on him."

I feel a rush of pride and worry. "Just like his father," I murmur, then look up at Sofia. "I need to see him. Can you help me?"

Sofia nods, her blonde hair catching the harsh hospital lights. "Of course. But first, are you okay? I heard raised voices..."

I bite my lip, wondering how much to share. "I called my father," I admit. "I told him everything. About the baby, about Ettore... about leaving."

Sofia's eyebrows shoot up. "Wow. That's... that's big, Carlotta. Are you sure about this?"

I meet her gaze steadily. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

A slow smile spreads across Sofia's face. "Then I'm with you, one hundred percent. Whatever you need."

Tears prick at my eyes. "Thank you," I whisper, overwhelmed by her loyalty.

Sofia helps me into a wheelchair, her movements gentle but efficient. As we head towards the NICU, I can't help but wonder what the future holds. But with my best friend by my side and the thought of my baby and Ettore, I feel a flicker of hope. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.

My heart races as we approach the NICU. I clutch the armrests of the wheelchair. As we enter the NICU, my eyes immediately search for my son. When I spot him in the incubator, so tiny and fragile, my breath catches. "There he is," I say, my voice trembling.

A nurse approaches us, her smile kind. "Would you like to touch him?"

I nod eagerly, and she guides my hand through the opening in the incubator. As I stroke my baby's soft skin, tears blur my vision.

"He's perfect," Ettore murmurs from beside me. "Just like you and the life we’re going to build.”