Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle

Chapter 399: Growing Family

Leo didn’t read. He didn’t talk much, either. He sat beside the bassinet, his whale tucked under his arm, and watched.

When Lexx cried, Leo didn’t flinch or pull away. He stayed right where he was, his dark eyes fixed on his brother’s face, and waited for the crying to stop. Once, when Lexx’s blanket had slipped loose, Leo reached out and tucked it back around him. No one asked him to. No one praised him for it. He did it because that was what big brothers did.

On the third evening, after Amanda and Vincent had taken the twins home and the room had settled, only Aunt Estella and Gio remained. Gio had visited every day, but he’d kept his distance from the baby. He stood near the door or sat in the corner with his tablet, giving his updates about Rochefort Group in the same calm, professional tone he always used. He didn’t approach the bassinet. He didn’t ask to hold the baby.

Franz had noticed. He didn’t say anything. Some things took time.

"The reports are finalized," Gio said. "Chairman signed off on the ones that required his approval. The board meeting is scheduled for next month, but they’ve agreed to postpone if you need more time."

"I’ll be ready," Arianne said. "What about the overseas commitments?"

"You have a conference in four months. They’re asking for confirmation. And the investors abroad want a meeting. They’ve been patient, but they won’t wait forever." Gio paused. "I can push them further if you need."

"No. I’ll handle it. Send me the files when we’re home."

Franz looked at Arianne, one eyebrow raised. "Overseas commitments?"

"I’ll explain later," she said. "It’s nothing to worry about."

"It sounds like something to worry about."

"It’s not. It’s just work. I’ll tell you about it when we’re home."

Franz didn’t push, but the look he gave her promised a longer conversation later. Arianne didn’t acknowledge it. She turned to Gio instead. "Do you want to hold him?"

Gio went motionless.

"I—" He stopped. Swallowed. "I don’t know how to hold babies. I’ve never—" He looked at the bassinet, where Lexx was beginning to stir. "I don’t want to hurt him."

"You won’t hurt him," Aunt Estella said, waving a hand. "You’re worrying too much. Babies are sturdier than they look."

Lexx’s stirring turned into a full-throated cry, that thin, insistent wail that meant he wanted attention. Aunt Estella crossed to the bassinet and lifted him with practiced ease. Then, before Gio could protest, she placed the baby in his arms.

"Support his head," she said, adjusting Gio’s hands. "There. Like that. See? You’re doing it."

Gio stood frozen, his arms cradling the tiny bundle with the rigid care of someone holding something he didn’t know how to put down. Lexx cried for a few more seconds, then trailed off into hiccups. His dark eyes opened, Arianne’s eyes in that tiny face, and stared up at his uncle.

"He’s so small," Gio said. "He’s so — I could hold him in one arm."

"That’s how babies are," Aunt Estella said. "Small and light and louder than you’d think possible."

Gio was staring down at Lexx with an expression Franz had never seen on him before — something raw and open, the professional mask entirely absent.

"Uncle Gio needs practice," Arianne said, her voice dry but warm. "You’ll have plenty of opportunities."

Gio said nothing. A small smile crossed his mouth. He lifted one finger and tapped the baby’s cheek. Lexx responded immediately: his tiny hand shot up and grabbed Gio’s finger with surprising strength, miniature fingers wrapping around it and holding on.

Gio didn’t move.

"He’s got you," Franz said.

"Yes." Gio’s voice came out low. "He does."

For a long moment, Gio didn’t move. He stood there, his nephew in his arms, the baby’s fist clamped around his finger. His expression was hard to read, but Franz thought he saw something flicker in his eyes — wonder, or grief, or joy, or all three at once.

Then Gio spoke. "Before we came back to Montclair, it was just the three of us. Arianne. Aunt Estella. Me. That was our family. That was all we had." He paused, looking down at Lexx. "Then we came back, and it grew. There were so many more people. And now—" He stopped. His voice caught. "Now there’s this one too."

"That’s how families work," Aunt Estella said. "They grow. Sometimes when you least expect it."

"I didn’t expect any of this. I didn’t think I would ever—" Gio shook his head, unable to finish.

Lexx made a small sound and tightened his grip on Gio’s finger. The baby’s eyes drifted closed again, his tiny body going slack with sleep. Gio stood there, holding him, and the room was hushed except for the hum of the ventilation.

Arianne watched her brother. Her expression had gone softer than usual, the sharp edges of her face eased by exhaustion and something else. "You’re going to be a good uncle," she said. "You already are."

Gio didn’t look up from the baby. "I’ve never done this before."

"None of us have. We’re all learning."

The silence that followed was easy. Gio held Lexx for a long time, until the baby was deep in sleep and Aunt Estella lifted him from Gio’s arms and placed him back in the bassinet. When Gio finally left, tablet in hand, his expression reassembled into its professional neutral, he paused at the door. He looked back at the bassinet. At Lexx. At the tiny fist that had held onto his finger and refused to let go.

Then he left, and the door closed behind him.

That night, the hospital hushed around them, Lexx asleep and Arianne drifting in and out of consciousness, Franz sat in the chair beside her bed and thought about what Gio had said.

Before, it was just the three of us. Then we came back, and it grew.

He looked at Arianne, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her hand near his on the blanket. He looked at Lexx in the bassinet. He thought about the twins, safe at his parents’ house, probably still arguing about the spelling of their brother’s name. He thought about Alex, who had believed in this family before it existed. He thought about Layla, who would have loved to hold her new nephew. He thought about Ysabella, who had died to protect her daughter, and the daughter who had survived and built a family of her own.

His eyes moved to the door. Through the small window he could see the outline of a figure in the hallway: a woman in a dark suit, standing near the entrance to the maternity ward. One of the bodyguards Mira had placed. She didn’t try to blend in. She didn’t pretend to be a visitor or a nurse. She was exactly what she was: a trained professional, watching everyone who passed.

There was another at the hospital’s main entrance. A third at the parking garage. Three rotations every eight hours. Earpieces. Concealed weapons. Visible, intentional, impossible to miss. Anyone who thought about approaching Arianne or the baby would see them first.

Franz had asked Mira to place them before Arianne went into labor. He hadn’t told Arianne. He hadn’t wanted to add to her stress.

She had noticed anyway.

"Are they ours?" she’d asked on the second day, nodding toward the woman who had been in the hallway for several hours.

"Yes."

"Good. They’re not subtle."

"They’re not supposed to be subtle. They’re supposed to be visible. Anyone who sees them will know this room is protected."

Arianne had nodded. That was all she’d said.

Now, in the low light of the hospital room, Franz looked at the figure in the hallway and felt something loosen in his chest. The anxiety that had lived in him for months, since the collapse, since the hospital, since the device in Leo’s doll, eased. Not gone. But manageable.

They were protected. His wife. His son. The family that had kept growing even when none of them expected it to.

He closed his eyes and let himself sleep.