Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 80

Elena’s POV

When I finally woke up, my hospital room was crowded with people. My mind felt fuzzy, like I was swimming up from deep water, trying to make sense of the faces around me.

Antonio stood closest to my bed, his weathered hands gripping his walking stick. His pale eyes were filled with something I'd never seen before—genuine affection, mixed with concern and something that looked almost like guilt.

"You saved my life, cara mia," he said quietly. His voice was thick with emotion. "That bullet was meant for me."

I blinked slowly, memories rushing back. The library. The gunshots. Throwing myself in front of Antonio without thinking. The burning pain in my shoulder.

"I want to do something for you," Antonio continued. "I'm going to ask my son Ricardo to adopt you officially. Make you a Montrosso in name as well as spirit. You would be my granddaughter."

Adopted? By the Montrosso family? I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying.

Before I could respond, Adriana's voice cut through the room like a knife.

"Absolutely not!" she shrieked. "Grandfather, you cannot be serious! Make that nobody part of our family?"

I turned my head slowly, seeing Adriana's face twisted with fury. Her perfect composure was completely gone, replaced by raw hatred.

"She's nothing but trash!" Adriana continued, her voice rising. "A servant girl who got lucky! You want to give the Montrosso name to some orphan who crawled out of the gutter?"

Each word felt like a slap. I'd heard insults before, but coming from her, in front of everyone, while I lay in a hospital bed... it was humiliating.

Then Damian spoke, his voice cutting through Adriana's hysteria like ice.

"Adriana, you seem to be forgetting something very important. Tonight, you owe Aria an apology. For the kidnapping. Remember?"

The room went completely silent. I watched Adriana's face go white.

"Either you apologize to her right now," Damian continued, his voice deadly calm, "or I'll be making some very interesting phone calls to certain journalists. I'm sure they'd love to hear about how the Montrosso princess orchestrated the kidnapping of an innocent girl over a handbag and a dance."

The room seemed to spin around me.

I watched as Damian forced her to apologize, his threats about reporters making her finally back down. But even as she spoke the words, I could see the hatred burning in her eyes. She didn't mean a word of it.

After what felt like hours of tense conversation, I finally spoke up.

"Could everyone please leave? I need to rest."

One by one, they filed out. Antonio squeezed my hand gently before he left. Adriana stormed out without looking back. Finally, only Damian remained.

He settled into the chair beside my bed, and I pretended to close my eyes. Through my lashes, I watched him. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his usually perfect hair disheveled. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and stubble covered his jaw.

How long had he been here?

I didn't wake him. Instead, I lay there thinking about everything that had happened. The shooting. Antonio's offer to adopt me. Learning that Adriana had orchestrated my kidnapping.

This world was dangerous. More dangerous than I'd ever imagined. People tried to kill each other over business deals. They kidnapped innocent people out of jealousy. They carried guns and used them without hesitation.

I'd grown up poor, but I'd grown up safe. The worst thing that had happened at the orphanage was running out of food or having the heat turned off. Here, people died for crossing the wrong person.

I wanted a normal life. A quiet life. Maybe a small apartment where Jessica and I could live peacefully. Where the biggest worry was paying the electric bill, not whether someone would try to murder me.

This shooting had made everything clear. I needed to complete my contract and get out of this world as quickly as possible.

Over the next few days, Damian visited me constantly. The nurses whispered that he rarely left the hospital. Sometimes I'd wake up and find him asleep in the chair beside my bed, still wearing his expensive suits but looking more exhausted each day.

Jennifer visited too, bringing homemade soup and updates from the estate.

"You should see Mr. Cavalieri in the kitchen," she said one afternoon, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "He's been trying to learn how to make proper nutrition meals for you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, yesterday he decided he wanted to cook you something himself. Said hospital food wasn't good enough for your recovery." She laughed softly. "I tried to help, but he insisted on doing it alone. Twenty minutes later, smoke was pouring out of the kitchen. He'd somehow managed to burn water."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. "He burned water?"

"Burned the pot dry trying to make soup. Then he tried to make scrambled eggs and somehow set off the fire alarm. The poor man looked so frustrated." She shook her head fondly. "He ended up ordering takeout from three different restaurants, just to make sure you had options."

The image of Damian frantically trying to cook, his usual composure completely gone, was almost funny. It was hard to imagine the man who commanded criminal empires being defeated by basic cooking.

"He's been very worried about you," Jennifer continued, her voice growing more serious. "I've worked for the Cavalieri family for fifteen years, and I've never seen him like this. He barely sleeps, barely eats. Just sits here watching you."

I didn't know what to say to that. Was he worried about me as a person, or just protecting his investment?

"You must mean a great deal to him," Jennifer said quietly.

But I knew better. He was protecting what belonged to him, nothing more.

When Jennifer left, I stared out the hospital window at the Florence skyline. Soon, I'd be discharged. Soon, I'd have to return to that world of violence and danger.

And soon, I'd have to complete the contract that would let me escape it forever.

Ten days later, Dr. Martinelli finally cleared me for discharge. I felt stronger, though my shoulder still ached when I moved too quickly.

Damian arrived personally to take me home. He looked better than he had during his hospital visits—his suit was perfectly pressed again, his hair styled, his usual commanding presence restored.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

Home. The word felt strange. The Cavalieri estate wasn't my home, no matter how comfortable they'd made it.

"Actually," I said, staying seated on the hospital bed, "since we're already at the hospital, maybe we should take care of the medical examinations."

He frowned. "What medical examinations?"

"For the surrogacy. The fertility tests, the IVF consultations. All the medical procedures we'll need before we can start trying to get pregnant." I kept my voice steady, businesslike. "I want to get pregnant as soon as possible."