Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 213 - 23 ~ Mira & Jace

By noon, the bakery smelled like cinnamon, warm sugar, and too many responsibilities.

I stood behind the counter, watching customers trickle in for their lunches, smiling mechanically and trying to hide the way my legs trembled. I kept telling myself it was just fatigue — normal pregnancy fatigue. Nothing to worry about.

Except... I didn’t feel normal today.

My heartbeat was faster than usual, racing in odd, uneven thumps. My breathing felt tight, almost shallow, like something heavy sat right behind my ribs. And there was a strange buzzing pressure at the back of my head that refused to ease.

I tried brushing it off.

I’d been up since 4 a.m. because sleep kept slipping away from me. I told myself I just needed to rest. Drink water. Eat something.

But even as I bent over the display case to adjust a tray of pastries, the world tilted slightly, a soft blur crossing my vision.

Anna noticed first.

"Ma’sm?" she said carefully. "You okay?"

I blinked. "I’m fine."

That was a lie.

She looked unconvinced. "You’re pale."

I waved her off. "I’m always pale."

"You’re not," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Sit down for a second."

"I’m—"

She raised a worried brow. "Please sit."

I exhaled and moved toward the staff table, lowering myself carefully into a chair. I pressed my hand to my stomach, whispering, "You okay in there, love?"

My daughter kicked faintly, like she was nudging me back.

That should’ve calmed me.

It didn’t.

I grabbed my water bottle and took a sip, then another. But my chest still felt tight. My pulse still thudded in my ears. And my hands... they were trembling, just slightly but unmistakably.

Anna crouched in front of me, voice soft but stern. "Let me call the doctor."

I shook my head too quickly. "Don’t. Jace will panic. I just need to sit for a—"

The buzzing in my head grew louder. A bright smear of light passed over my vision. For a second, I couldn’t even hear what Anna was saying. It was like the world had dipped underwater.

Someone touched my shoulder. It was Tomas.

One look at me and his expression changed instantly.

"Mira," he said firmly. "We’re leaving. Now."

I tried to protest, but when I stood up, my knees buckled. The floor tilted forward, and a sharp gasp escaped me as darkness crept around the corners of my sight.

A strong arm caught me before I hit the ground.

Tomas lifted me easily, shouting for the car.

My head fell against his chest, too heavy to hold up. My heart slammed wildly, too fast, too wrong. My baby kicked again but not gently this time and fear shot through me so violently I couldn’t breathe.

"Tomas," I whispered weakly. "The baby... something’s wrong."

"We’re almost there," he said. "Stay with me."

Voices blurred. The bakery doors opened. Cool air hit my face sharply as I was carried outside. I heard Anna calling someone — maybe it was the doctor or the hospital.

But all I could think of was Jace.

I needed him.

God, I needed him right now.

Inside the car, Tomas kept talking to me, telling me to breathe, telling me I’d be fine. But the pressure in my head grew worse. I pressed both hands over my stomach, really praying that my daughter was okay.

When the car stopped, nurses swarmed immediately. I was wheeled through bright hallways, lights flashing overhead. My vision pulsed. My chest felt too tight. Everything was spinning again.

"Ma’am," a doctor said urgently, "your blood pressure is elevated — you need to stay calm."

"How— how’s my baby?" I whispered.

"We’re checking her right now. Just breathe."

I tried.

I really did.

But fear sat so heavily in my chest that each inhale felt like a battle.

They attached monitors, placed cold gel on my stomach, and a screen flashed to life.

There she was.

My little girl.

Heartbeat strong. Moving.

Thank God.

My eyes stung with sudden tears.

"She’s okay," the doctor said, relief softening his voice. "We just need to bring your blood pressure down. Stress is not your friend right now."

Stress.

If only it were that simple.

I closed my eyes and whispered Jace’s name. Even saying it hurt. He was thousands of miles away. And I hated that the first real scare of my pregnancy happened without him here.

A soft knock came at the door.

A nurse peeked in. "Mrs. Romano... your husband is on the phone. He sounds... urgent."

I reached for the phone with shaking hands.

"Jace?"

"Mira."

Just one word. His voice was rough, stripped down, shaking in a way I had almost never heard from him.

"Hey," I whispered, trying not to cry. "I’m okay."

"You’re not okay," he said tightly. "Tomas called me. I’m on my way to the airport."

"You don’t have to—"

"I’m already in the car," he cut in. "I should’ve never left."

"It’s fine-"

"No it’s not." He cut me off sharply and my mouth clamped shut.

"Good. Listen to me," he said softly. "Just breathe for me, baby. I’m coming home."

My throat closed. "Jace..."

"I know," he whispered. "I know."

"Don’t speed."

"I won’t."

Another lie. I knew him.

I swallowed hard, tears slipping down my temples. "I really want you here."

"I’m already halfway there," he murmured. "I love you. Just hold on for me."

The nurse gently lifted the phone from my shaking hands so they could continue running tests. My vision blurred as I stared at the ceiling.

Hold on.

I could do that.

Especially if he was coming home.

~~~

Jace’s POV

The airport doors might as well have been walls I had to tear through.

London blurred around me as I pushed forward, pulse pounding loud enough to drown out every voice, every announcement, every flash of movement. The world had narrowed to one thing — getting back to Mira.

I didn’t remember half the drive to Heathrow.

All I remembered was Tomas’s voice breaking through static:

"She almost collapsed."

And then...

"She’s at the hospital."

Everything inside me had gone quiet.

Then everything had gone cold.

The airline staff spoke too slowly. The security lines moved too slowly. Time itself moved too slowly. I didn’t care that I was supposed to stay calm. I didn’t care that people stared at the way I paced, jaw tight, hands fisted.

I cared about one thing.

Mira.

My wife. My soulmate. My entire world.

And our daughter.

The moment I boarded the plane, I texted Tomas:

Jace: Stay with her until I get there.

Don’t leave her side.

Not for a second.

Tomas: Understood.

I sat down, then immediately stood up again. My body couldn’t settle. My mind kept replaying the same images of Mira collapsing. Her hand over her stomach. Her eyes dimming.

And I wasn’t there.

I wasn’t there.

Guilt hit me like a punch.

I should’ve never left her.

I should’ve known something was off.

She’d sounded too quiet on the phone last night. Too soft. Too tired.

I’d ignored it.

And now she was in a hospital bed while I was flying over oceans praying to every higher power that she stayed safe until I reached her.

My fists clenched as the plane began to move.

Then a memory surfaced — her voice from just hours ago, her sleepy smile through the phone:

"I miss you too."

My throat tightened.

"Missed you," I whispered to myself. "And I wasn’t even here."

The flight lifted into the air.

Hours stretched painfully.

I couldn’t sleep.

Couldn’t think straight.

I could only picture her lying there, scared, alone, trying to be strong because she always tried to protect me from worry.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

When we finally landed, the seatbelt light blinked off and I stood before the plane even stopped taxiing. I ignored the glares from the flight attendant. I grabbed my coat, moved through the aisle like a storm, and practically ran into the terminal.

A car waited outside. I got in. Ordered the driver to go as fast as he could.

As the city blurred by, my mind replayed Tomas’s last update:

"She’s stable. The baby is fine. Mira is asking for you."

My eyes closed tightly.

I’d been called many things in my life — cold, ruthless, dangerous.

But in that moment, I was nothing but a man terrified of losing the only things that mattered.

When the hospital finally appeared, I didn’t wait for the car to stop before opening the door. I sprinted across the pavement, through the lobby, past the guards and nurses who tried to stop me.

I pushed open her room door.

And there she was.

Sitting upright. Pale. Exhausted. Eyes glassy with unshed tears.

But she was alive. Thank God.

"Mira," I breathed.

Her head snapped up. "Jace—"

She didn’t get to finish.

I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms so gently it almost hurt. She melted into me, face pressed to my chest, fingers curling weakly into my shirt.

"You scared me," I whispered into her hair.

"You scared me too," she whispered back, voice breaking. "Don’t leave again."

"I won’t." My arms tightened. "I won’t."

She trembled softly, and I kissed her forehead, her temple, her hands. In fact, everywhere I could reach without hurting her.

She was here.

My daughter was here.

And I wasn’t losing either of them.

Ever.