Chapter 67: Pregnancy Confirmed
"It must have been love at first sight," he told her, and Dora slowly nodded her head, quickly stuffing more food into her mouth in a desperate attempt to prevent herself from having to speak more than necessary. Her fork scraped softly against the plate, the motion giving her something to focus on.
Elder Bellini, however, showed no intention of ending the conversation there. A gleeful smile stretched across his face, brightening his almost grandfatherly features. "Since his parents died, this is the first time I’ve seen him so happy," he said warmly.
Dora froze mid-chew, lifting her head from the plate she had been focusing on far more than the conversation. She stared at him silently, her fingers curling lightly around her fork as she listened.
"...A child would make him feel more grounded, don’t you think?" he added, still smiling, finally lowering his gaze to his own plate as he began to eat. His voice remained casual, as if he had simply mentioned the weather.
Dora swallowed with noticeable effort, feeling the food move down her throat slowly like it suddenly weighed more than it should. She nodded, stiff but polite.
"Yes, of course," she replied, fully understanding what the old man was hinting at without him needing to say it outright.
The air between them remained amicable. Nothing sharp or uncomfortable stirred in his tone; he spoke with sincerity, not pressure. Dora shifted slightly in her seat, trying to shake off the unease building at the back of her mind as she listened to the quiet clinking of utensils.
"I’m also old and well advanced in age," he continued, his expression softening. "It would be nice to see Dante’s children before I die."
Dora parted her lips, prepared to reassure him that he still had many years left, but his next words stopped her like cold water splashing across her skin.
"I’ll also have a gift for you. It’s the least I can do."
His voice lowered, deeper and softer, carrying a weight that made Dora instinctively feel that the gift he spoke of wouldn’t be ordinary. Something in his tone made it clear that he meant it from the depths of his heart.
Dora nodded again, more gently this time, and returned her attention to her plate. The meal continued smoothly afterward, filled with small conversations and light remarks, and by the time they finished eating, the tension had eased from her shoulders.
They returned to Elder Bellini’s estate shortly after. The sight of the nearly doubled security presence compared to Dante’s estate filled Dora with a sense of unexpected comfort. The guards’ silent vigilance made the grounds feel almost impenetrable.
They had barely stepped out of the vehicle, Dora letting out a chuckle at one of Elder Bellini’s surprisingly witty jokes, when she noticed Dante’s car pulling into the driveway.
She kissed the old man’s cheek gently before heading toward Dante. Dante looked immaculate as always, his suit smooth without a single wrinkle, as though he had stepped right out of a photo meant for a magazine.
"You seem excited," he remarked, his voice steady as his gaze briefly swept over her face.
Dora nodded, leaning into her seat inside the car. The day truly had gone better than she could’ve expected.
"Your grandfather is fun," she admitted.
Dante merely nodded. He didn’t look surprised at all.
"My grandfather is many things," he said, his tone flat but truthful, layered with meanings she couldn’t yet decipher.
The ride back to his estate didn’t take long. Dora wasn’t in the right frame of mind to visit the hospital alone, so she decided to head straight to her room the moment they stepped inside.
Still full from dinner, she climbed the stairs slowly—until a strong arm suddenly wrapped around her waist. She turned, heart giving a startled jump, and met Dante’s eyes. The look in them was unmistakable, something silent but firm.
"Your room?" she asked quietly, knowing full well that they needed to continue their sessions until she conceived. The knowledge didn’t stop her pulse from skipping.
"My room," he replied.
She hadn’t stepped into his room again since the very first time she saw him half-naked. She walked in slowly, feeling the shift in air as he entered behind her. The door shut with a muted thud that echoed faintly in her chest. She glanced back to see his fingers already working the buttons of his shirt.
She reached for the zipper of her dress, assuming this would be quick and without much emotion. But before she could even begin to undress, Dante closed the distance between them.
His hands slid over her body with quiet deliberation, his touch warm through the fabric of her gown. His mouth followed next—soft, heated kisses trailing along her lips and jaw until she clung to him without thinking.
Their balance tipped, her back sinking into the mattress as their clothes scattered around them. The warmth of his skin pressed into hers, solid and intense, pulling her deeper into the moment.
Pleasure rushed through her almost instantly, sharp and consuming, making her arch into him. Her moans slipped out, drawn from her with every thrust and every stroke of his hands.
When they finally came together, breath mingling, neither of them stopped. Their bodies understood exactly what was needed without words.
When Dante started to pull away to reposition, Dora instinctively wrapped her legs tightly around him.
"More," she gasped, her voice faint but urgent.
It was the last clear thing she remembered before he gave her exactly what she asked for and more.
Hours later, tangled in sheets and warmth, they drifted into sleep.
When Dora finally woke, it was late into the morning. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she opened her eyes sluggishly, her body still heavy with exhaustion.
She turned instinctively toward the other side of the bed. Empty. As she expected—but the sight still stung faintly. The sheets on his side were barely disturbed, a quiet reminder of what they were. What she was. Something she always forgot when they lay tangled together.
With a long, tired sigh, she pushed herself up. But the moment her feet touched the floor, her head spun violently—like the ground had tilted beneath her.
A wave of nausea hit. She gripped the bed frame, gasping softly, then rushed to the bathroom. She threw up almost nothing; dinner had long since digested.
Breathing hard, she lifted her head and stared into the mirror. Her hair stood in chaotic angles. Her eyes were wide, filled with confusion and a flicker of dread. She gripped the sink tighter, her knuckles turning pale.
She wasn’t sick.This kind of nausea wasn’t random.Not after last night.Not after the last few days.
There was only one possible explanation.
I’m pregnant.
