Sold To The Mafia Don-Chapter 201 - 211 ~ Mira

The morning started quietly enough.

Jace had left early for a meeting at the LA office — something he didn’t want to attend, but had to, if only to keep up appearances. He kissed me three times before leaving. Once on my forehead, once on my lips, and once on my bump, whispering something to our daughter that made my chest ache in the tender way love does.

"Be good," he had murmured to her, and then to me, "Don’t overdo anything. Call me if you need me. For anything."

"Go," I had laughed softly, pushing lightly at his chest. "I’ll be fine."

But after the door closed behind him... the house felt too big.

Too quiet.

Too easy to hear your own thoughts in.

I tried to distract myself.

I watered the plants in the sunroom. I folded tiny baby clothes Donna had sent from New York with handwritten notes attached to every outfit (as if the outfits came with instructions on how to raise a baby). I even turned on the TV for background noise, but it just made everything feel louder.

My mind kept circling back to the night in the kitchen.

The movement I thought I saw.

The heaviness in the air.

The way Jace had appeared almost too quickly.

I knew something was happening. Even without him saying it. There was a stillness in him — not calm, but contained.

Like an ocean before a storm.

But he was trying. He was trying to give me peace. Trying not to frighten me. And I didn’t want to break that effort with my own fear.

So when I felt a tightness in my back, I ignored it.

When my legs felt a little unsteady, I pretended it was nothing.

When my belly felt heavier than usual, I breathed through it and kept moving.

I went upstairs to take a shower, humming softly under my breath as I turned on the bathroom light.

Maybe I should have eaten first.

Maybe I should have sat down for a while.

But I didn’t think that far.

I placed my hand on my lower back, stepping into the bathroom—when my foot slipped on the tile.

It happened so fast I barely had time to register the fall.

My hand shot out to catch the counter — but the movement was clumsy, too slow, off balance. My weight shifted forward and my chest lurched downward—

But before I hit the floor, my knee slammed onto the tile.

The sound cracked through the quiet like a gunshot.

Pain shot up my leg immediately. My heart began to race as I clutched the counter with trembling fingers.

It wasn’t the fall that scared me.

It was the silence that followed.

The few seconds where I didn’t feel anything from her.

"Baby..." I whispered, my voice already breaking. "Please..."

My breathing picked up. Too fast. Too shallow.

I tried to move, but my leg throbbed and my hands shook and my chest tightened until I could barely inhale. I tried to stay calm because I knew panic only made things worse, but how was I supposed to stay calm when the world was spinning and all I could think was:

Not her.

Please, not her.

I reached for my phone with shaking hands and accidentally dropped it. I had to slide across the floor on my knees to grab it, the room blurring around me.

I didn’t think.

I dialed the only number that made sense.

Jace picked up on the first ring.

"Mira?"

I didn’t even try to sound composed. "I—I fell."

There was a sound in the background. A chair, maybe. Movement. His breath changed, immediate and sharp.

"Where are you?"

"Bathroom," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut as tears slid down. "I’m—something feels—wrong, I don’t know—"

"I’m already in the car," he said — voice steady, but I could hear the terror under it. "I’m coming. Two minutes. Don’t move."

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me.

I held my belly, begging silently.

And then I felt it.

A flutter.

A soft push from inside.

The smallest kick.

Relief dropped through me so heavy my body shook.

"Okay," I whispered, sobbing as I leaned my head back against the cabinet. "Okay. Okay. I’m here."

I heard doors. Footsteps. A second voice — Tomas maybe. Then the door downstairs opened so fast I heard it hit the wall.

"Mira!" His voice was raw, echoing through the house.

"I’m here," I called back, even though it came out weak.

He was up the stairs in seconds. The bathroom door burst open and he was kneeling in front of me before I could blink.

His hands cupped my face, his eyes scanning me like he needed to confirm I was real.

"What happened?" His voice was deep, too calm, the kind of calm that came right before violence.

"I slipped," I whispered. "My knee—my back— I just— I got scared."

His jaw tightened, but not at me. Never at me.

He scooped me into his arms slowly — gently — like I weighed nothing.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, voice low and steady against my hair. "I’ve got you. I’ve got you."

The drive to the hospital was fast.

Too fast.

But I never felt unsafe.

His hand stayed wrapped around mine the entire time.

When we arrived, the nurses already knew we were coming. Jace must have called ahead. I was taken straight to maternity triage. Warm gel. Soft voices. A monitor being placed against my belly.

Then the sound I was waiting for came.

Our daughter’s heartbeat filled the room — strong, steady, rhythmic — like the most beautiful drum in the world.

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I released it all at once, tears spilling over again.

"She’s okay?" I asked, my voice shaking.

The doctor smiled. "She’s perfect. You had a scare, but she’s completely fine. No distress. No complications. Just try to rest more, ma’am. You’re doing an amazing job."

I nodded, unable to speak.

Jace was silent the entire time. He wasn’t cold or distant. He was completely present. He had his hand on my leg, thumb stroking slow circles.

Breathing steady, even though I knew he was two seconds from breaking apart.

When the doctor left us alone, the room fell quiet again.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

Then I whispered, "I’m sorry."

His head snapped up. "No." The word was sharp, cutting. "You do not apologize. Not for slipping. Not for being pregnant. Not for existing. Do you understand me?"

My throat tightened as I nodded.

"You scared me," he said, quieter now. "I thought—"

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t have to.

I reached for his hand. "She’s okay."

His hand closed around mine immediately, like he needed the confirmation.

"And you?" he asked.

I swallowed. "I’m okay."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine. "If something had happened to you—"

"It didn’t."

He exhaled slowly, his tension melting just a little.

I knew then — fully, deeply — that his fear didn’t come from control.

It came from love.

A love that still surprised him.

A love he never believed he’d deserve.

A love he would tear the world apart to protect.

The nurse returned with discharge instructions. Jace listened closely, asked careful questions, made sure everything was clear — but he never let go of my hand.

On the drive home, the sky was beginning to dim, streaked with bruised shades of lavender and rose. I watched the city pass outside the window while Jace watched me.

When we got home, he carried me again. I didn’t argue.

He set me gently on the bed and knelt on the floor in front of me like he had something sacred to say.

"From now on," he murmured, voice low, steady, and terrifyingly soft, "you tell me every single time you feel even the smallest thing. I don’t care if it feels stupid. I don’t care if it feels dramatic. I don’t care if you think you can manage. I want to know."

I nodded slowly, my hand drifting to my belly.

"Okay," I whispered.

He exhaled like air had finally returned to his lungs.

He climbed into bed beside me, pulling me against his chest, one hand resting where our daughter was.

And though the house was silent again...

The sense of foreboding didn’t leave.

I don’t know why...But I felt, deep in my bones, that tonight was the last night peace would feel this gentle.