Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 215 - 25 ~ Mira & Jace

Jace’s POV

I didn’t sleep.

Not for one minute.

Mira slept curled against me, breathing slow and steady, her hand resting loosely over her stomach like she was instinctively shielding our daughter even while unconscious. She looked peaceful, and I refused to disturb that peace - not tonight and certainly not after the day she’d had.

So I stayed awake.

I watched the rise and fall of her chest. I counted every soft exhale and memorized the tiny movements she made when our daughter shifted.

But my mind... my mind never settled.

Every few minutes, I lifted my eyes to the monitor screens. The numbers stayed steady: heart rate, pressure. I tracked them like I used to track enemies on old surveillance screens except this time, the stakes were infinitely higher.

Every beep embedded itself under my skin.

Every rustle in the hallway made me tense.

Every shadow made my instincts flare.

I hated hospitals. They were too open, too exposed. Anyone could walk in wearing the right scrubs. Anyone could slip into a room if they moved confidently enough. Anyone could blend with staff and get close before someone noticed.

Not that I would let that happen.

Two of my men were stationed outside her room. One inside the hallway farther down. Another monitoring the hospital’s security feed remotely.

Still, uneasiness tugged at me.

The article, the photos, the sudden surge of attention... someone was threading all of it together, and Mira’s scare today felt like a warning shot across my spine. Not deliberate maybe, but symbolic.

She shifted in her sleep, leaning into my chest.

My arm tightened around her instinctively.

"Easy, baby," I murmured softly.

She didn’t wake, but her breathing evened again.

I brushed a thumb along her shoulder, slow and steady. Inside me, something fragile and feral clashed — the tenderness I never knew I was capable of and the old instinct that rose like smoke in the back of my throat:

Protect. Fortify. Prepare.

Around 3 a.m., Tomas texted.

Tomas: Everything secured at home. External cameras updated. Perimeter sweep done twice.

Jace: Any suspicious movement?

Tomas: No. Quiet night.

Quiet never meant safe.

Quiet meant someone was waiting.

I sat there in the dark hospital room, Mira’s warmth pressed against me, and planned the next ten steps.

We needed new routes.

New decoys.

Modified schedules for visits to the bakery.

A second team assigned specifically to Mira — women only, so she wouldn’t feel hovered over by armed statues.

We needed a sealed digital wall separating her bakery finances from anything that even hinted at my past.

We needed...

Her fingers twitched against my shirt.

"Mmm..." she murmured softly, still half-dreaming.

I froze, letting her settle again. Her cheek nuzzled into my chest as if she sensed the tension vibrating through me.

She slept and I worried. That was our unspoken agreement tonight.

A soft buzz soon vibrated in my pocket.

I checked the screen.

Mom.

Of course.

I stepped out of the bed carefully, lowering Mira onto her pillow and tucking her blanket up without waking her. She sighed but didn’t stir.

I moved to the far side of the room and answered quietly.

"Jace?" Donna’s voice was sharp, brisk, and dripping with panic she was trying to mask.

"I’m here," I whispered.

"I saw Tomas’ message. Why didn’t you call me yourself?"

"Because I didn’t want you panicking."

"Well I panicked anyway!" she snapped. "Your wife is in the hospital and I’m supposed to do what? Knit a sweater?"

I exhaled slowly. "She’s fine. The baby is fine. They’re monitoring her."

"Monitoring is not fine," she argued. "Monitoring means something went wrong."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "She overworked herself. Stress. Too much standing. Her pressure spiked."

"Oh," she breathed out, softer now. "My poor baby."

"Well, she’s resting now."

"Does she need anything? Should I fly in? I can be there by morning. Alejandro can—"

"No," I said immediately. Too quickly, maybe. "She needs calm, not chaos."

"I’m not chaos," she muttered, offended. "I’m her mother-in-law."

"You’re both." I retorted.

"I heard that," she huffed.

I rubbed my forehead and leaned against the window. Outside, the city lights flickered, little reflections bouncing off the hospital glass.

"She’s okay," I said again, quieter this time.

Donna’s voice softened. "And you? Are you okay?"

I didn’t answer at first.

The silence told her everything.

"Oh, Jace."

I looked at Mira, sleeping peacefully.

"She scared me," I whispered. The words felt heavy in my throat. "Everything about today...I keep replaying it."

"That’s what love does," Donna said gently. "Terrifies you. Makes you vulnerable in ways you weren’t ready for. But it also gives you strength you didn’t know you had."

I closed my eyes.

"You can’t keep carrying everything alone," she continued. "Not the press. Not those threats. Not the past."

"I’m handling it."

"You’re handling it," she said, "but at what cost?"

Before I could answer, I heard Mira shift in the bed.

My chest tightened. "I have to go. She’s waking up."

"Call me with updates. And kiss her forehead for me."

"I will." I said with a nod like she could see me.

"And Jace?"

"Hm?"

"Don’t let fear steal the joy of what you have."

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, my love."

I ended the call.

When I turned back toward the bed, Mira’s eyes fluttered open, sleepy and confused.

"Jace?"

I crossed the room immediately. "I’m here."

She reached a hand out. I took it and lowered myself next to her carefully.

"Were you on the phone?" she whispered.

"Donna. She sends her love."

Mira smiled faintly. "Tell her I love her too."

"Tomorrow." I whispered.

She blinked slowly, gaze traveling over me like she was confirming I was real.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked.

"No."

"You should."

"I will."

"You’re lying," she murmured.

I brushed a thumb over her cheek. "Go back to sleep."

She didn’t.

Instead, she slipped her hand onto my chest, fingers curling in the fabric of my shirt. "Stay with me?"

"Always."

Her eyes softened... and then drifted closed again.

Only when her breathing evened out did I lay back beside her and let the minutes pass in quiet watchfulness.

Mira’s POV

The morning sun filtered weakly through the blinds, washing the hospital room in a cool, pale glow.

I woke slowly, blinking at the ceiling, then turned my head with a sleepy mumble.

Only to see Jace sitting upright beside me, still in the same clothes, eyes focused, alert, and unmistakably exhausted.

"Jace," I whispered, pushing myself carefully upright. "You didn’t sleep at all?"

He reached out instinctively, hand on my back to steady me. "I slept enough."

That was a lie. A terrible one. His eyes had the soft haze of a man who’d fought off the entire night with worry.

"You look tired," I whispered.

He didn’t answer that.

Instead, he cupped my cheek gently. "How do you feel?"

"Better," I said. "Really."

He searched my face like he was double-checking every microexpression.

The nurse came in moments later, cheerful and brisk.

"Good morning! Let’s see how our mama is doing."

She checked my vitals.

The numbers made her smile.

"Looks great. Blood pressure is at a healthy level. The baby’s heartbeat is strong. If everything stays this way, you can go home in a couple of hours."

I sighed with relief.

Jace didn’t sigh.

He just nodded once, jaw firm, already calculating what precautions he needed to put in place the second we stepped outside these walls.

The nurse left.

I reached for his hand.

"Jace," I whispered. "Look at me."

He did. Slowly.

"I’m okay."

He didn’t respond, but his thumb brushed my hand in a subtle, grounding circle.

A familiar warmth filled my chest.

I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for being here."

His eyes softened the way they only did for me.

"I’ll always be here," he murmured.

~

Few hours later...

They wheeled me out, though I insisted I could walk.

Jace insisted harder that I could not.

Outside, the morning air hit my skin and felt warm, grounding, real. Jace walked beside the wheelchair, hand on the handle, acting as though the chair might suddenly take a wrong turn and throw me into a ditch.

Tomas opened the car door.

I stood carefully.

Jace hovered.

"Slow," he murmured.

"I’m not made of glass," I teased softly.

"No," he said. "You’re made of everything I can’t lose."

My throat tightened.

We settled into the back seat together — his arm wrapped securely around me, my head resting on his shoulder as the driver pulled away from the hospital.

The world outside the window kept moving like nothing had happened.

But inside the car, inside my chest, something had shifted.

I wasn’t afraid.

But I wasn’t naïve either.

Something was coming.

And now that I saw how the article, the photos, the stress, the scare... all of it had found its way into our quiet life, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Jace would protect us with everything in him.

But this time...

I wasn’t going to let him do it alone.