She Was Forced to Marry an Infertile Mafia Boss — Months Later, Her Morning Sickness Shocked All
Chapter 4
By the fifth month of the marriage, Chicago’s winter had begun to loosen its grip.
Elena noticed small changes.
Vincent laughed more.
He stopped calling her “Mrs. DeLuca” and simply called her Elena.
They ate dinner together almost every night.
Sometimes they talked until two in the morning.
One evening, Elena found him in the kitchen making coffee.
“You?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m capable of making coffee.”
“You run a criminal empire.”
“And yet somehow the coffee remains a greater challenge.”
She laughed.
He smiled.
For a few seconds, they looked like an ordinary married couple.
Then Vincent reached for her hand.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“If this marriage were no longer necessary…”
She waited.
“Would you stay?”
Her heart pounded.
She didn’t answer immediately.
Finally, she whispered,
“Yes.”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly.
Then he kissed her.
It was gentle.
Careful.
Nothing like the terrifying man the newspapers described.
After that night, their relationship changed completely.
For the first time, their marriage became a marriage in more than name.
Weeks passed.
Elena felt happier than she had expected.
Then one morning, she woke before dawn.
Her stomach twisted.
She rushed to the bathroom.
She blamed dinner.
Then stress.
Then perhaps a stomach virus.
But the nausea returned the next morning.
And the next.
She began avoiding coffee.
The smell of fried eggs suddenly made her sick.
Even Vincent’s expensive cologne made her dizzy.
Sofia noticed first.
“You look pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Elena nodded.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes widened.
She mentally counted the days.
Her period was late.
Very late.
Impossible, she thought.
Absolutely impossible.
She went to a pharmacy herself, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses.
She bought three pregnancy tests.
Back at the mansion, she locked the bathroom door.
The first test turned positive.
Her hands shook.
She took the second.
Positive.
The third.
Positive.
Elena sank onto the bathroom floor.
“No…”
Her mind immediately went to Vincent.
His doctors.
His diagnosis.
The word everyone knew.
Infertile.
She pressed a hand against her stomach.
A thousand questions crashed through her mind.
Was the diagnosis wrong?
Was the child really Vincent’s?
Had someone manipulated the medical records?
Or had something happened before their marriage that she didn’t know about?
She stared at the three tests.
Then someone knocked.
“Elena?”
Vincent.
She quickly hid them.
“Give me a minute.”
His voice became concerned.
“Are you sick?”
She opened the door.
Vincent looked at her face.
“What happened?”
She couldn’t speak.
He stepped closer.
“Elena?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I think…”
She swallowed.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
Vincent froze.
For several seconds, the entire world seemed to stop.
Then the color drained from his face.
