Queens Take All

Four weeks passed in absolute tranquility—a strange, artificial peace that felt almost surreal given the violence that had preceded it. The Kane estate had been thoroughly purged of any loyalty to Vivienne or Marcus. Every maid, guard, and driver was now personally vetted by Matteo, and the atmosphere in the mansion had shifted from a place of fear to a fortress of absolute loyalty.

My hair had begun to grow back, a short, dark pixie cut that Roman insisted made me look like royalty. I no longer wore the scarves out of shame, but out of choice.

I spent my days in the nursery, which had been transformed into a sanctuary of soft pinks, creams, and gold. The walls were lined with books, and a beautiful wooden crib, hand-carved by a local artisan, sat beneath the window overlooking the rose gardens.

Roman spent every free moment he had with me. The ruthless mafia don who had ordered his own mother’s banishment would sit on the floor of the nursery for hours, helping me assemble strollers and folding tiny baby clothes with his large, scarred hands.

"She’s going to be spoiled," I laughed one evening as Roman placed a miniature pair of designer leather boots on the shelf.

"She is a Kane," Roman smiled, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "She will have the world at her feet, but she will have her mother’s heart. That’s what matters."

But the peace was shattered at exactly midnight on a warm July evening.

I woke up with a sharp, agonizing pain that radiated through my lower back and down my thighs. I gasped, clutching my stomach as a warm fluid soaked through the sheets.

"Roman," I gasped, shaking his shoulder.

He was awake instantly, his hand automatically reaching for the gun under his pillow before his eyes locked onto my face. He saw the pain written there and immediately softened.

"It’s time?" he asked, his voice breathless.

"It’s time," I whispered.

The baby was coming three weeks early, undoubtedly a lingering result of the physical trauma my body had suffered during the storm.

Within minutes, the master bedroom was converted into a delivery room. Dr. Evans and two private nurses arrived, their faces grim but determined. The pain came in waves, closer and closer together, tearing through me with a ferocity that left me breathless.

Roman stayed by my side, his hand a solid anchor as I squeezed it with all the strength I had left.

"You can do this, Bianca," he whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "You are the strongest woman I have ever known. Just breathe."

Hours bled into one another. The sky outside the window shifted from midnight black to a soft, pastel pink as dawn began to break over the estate. I was exhausted, my body pushing past the limits of human endurance, but every time I felt like giving up, I remembered the driveway. I remembered the rain. I remembered the woman who had tried to erase my child from existence.

"I won't let them win," I screamed through my teeth as another massive contraction hit.

"One more push, Bianca! I can see the head!" Dr. Evans shouted.

I gathered every ounce of strength left in my soul, locking my eyes onto Roman’s grey eyes, and pushed with a final, desperate cry.