Violent Little Thing (Lily and Luciano) novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112

Luciano

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I’m out of my seat the minute the doctor walked in the door.

“Doc, tell me, my daughter, is she…?”

“She’s alive, we had to do an emergency C section. It was not an easy job and there were many complications with both the mother and daughter, but your daughter is alive, in a critical state but alive.”

“And my fiancé?”

He turns to me in front of a door and his face is nothing less than grim.

“Let’s just get you settled in with the baby first, she’s cleared to be outside of the incubator for about twenty minutes to begin with and could use some skin to skin.”

I nod to the doctor, not wanting to push the time with my daughter. He opens the door, and I follow him into a brightly lit ICU room. Doctors and nurses are bustling around the dimly lit room and there in the center in an incubator, covered in wires and tubes is my tiny, little daughter.

“Are you ready for a hold, sir?” One of the nurses ask.

“Yes, please.” I whisper out. She gestures to a comfortable looking rocking chair that I sit down in and remove my shirt. Watching as she carefully moves her with precision around all the things hanging off her. My little girl is placed on my chest with a blanket wrapped over us. I look down to see her full head of black hair and long dark eyelashes. She’s got breathing tubes and heart monitors, other cords and tubes I don’t understand fully, but behind all of the medical mess, she’s beautiful, so fucking beautiful…just like her mother.

“Oh, my sweet girl. You fought so hard to be here, didn’t you? It’s okay baby, daddy’s here now.” I sob quietly as I rock my daughter gently.

The time I have with her goes too fast for my liking. Just twenty minutes until she’s returned to her incubator. She’s not cried once, even when she opened her eyes through the glass to look at me as she was placed down. Her attitude compared to her brothers is already so clearly different. She’s the calm in a storm. My pretty little Isla.

Ariana and I didn’t talk about names for the children, we wanted to wait to see them until we decided. When the nurse asked me for my daughter’s name, I didn’t want to take that opportunity from her mother. That was until the doctor told me about Ariana’s condition. I didn’t want to believe what he was telling me. Ariana had just finished coming out of surgery, but her chances of survival weren’t good. She’d lost a lot of blood during the birth, along with needing an emergency C section that was not planned. Her body had used the last of its energy fighting to keep my daughter alive. Now she was in a coma, and they weren’t sure if she would wake up and if she did, what the damage would be. So I gave Isla her name, because my daughter herself was also not in the clear and there is no way I would risk her dying without giving her a name.

I left Isla for now, needing to go back and tell Luca and Tony about Ariana. On my way dropped in quickly to see Candy and my sister Stacy who were stable and thankfully only suffered scrapes and bruises. I told Stacy about the children, but I left out the news on Ariana. I needed to tell the guys first.

I get back to our son’s room and find that all the guests have cleared out for the day, leaving just Tony, Luca and the boys. The boys are both sleeping soundly in their cots and the guys stand up and rush over to me as soon as I opened the door but neither of them say anything, they just wait with worried expressions.

“My daughter, Isla, she’s alive. She’s in an incubator and still in a critical condition from the birth, but she’s alive.”

“Oh, thank fuck, brother.” Luca is the first to wrap his arms around me, followed by Tony.

“We need to talk about Ariana.” They both take a step back, clearly afraid of what is to come. I can already see the tears building in their eyes.

“I’ll get a nurse to look after the boys, and we can talk on the way to our girl’s room.”

The doctor had said he would move Ariana into the same room as Isla while I was gone, so I walked slowly enough to relay what the doctor had told me before we got there. When we stop outside her door, we all embrace each other and cry freely before we wipe our faces and pull out our best impression of strength before we enter the room. There is our angel on the bed, pale and fragile. She gave everything she could for our children, to bring them into this world and give them life. Literally everything, and it may cost her, her own life in return. We each take the time to hold her hand and kiss her skin and tell her how proud we are of her. We take the time to tell her about her children and how thankful we are for them, then we’re adjusting the room to her liking, fluffing her pillows and adjusting her blankets before there’s nothing left to do.

I

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