Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 231 - 41 ~ Jace

The hallway to the NICU felt longer than it should have been.

Too quiet.

Too bright.

Too clean.

A place designed for hope, but all I felt was fear pressing into my lungs like a hand squeezing too tightly.

The nurse walked ahead of me, speaking in a soft, measured tone — the kind people used when they weren’t sure if the person beside them was seconds away from collapsing.

"She’s in stable condition for her size," she explained. "Her breathing is shallow at times, but she’s responding well. We placed her in an incubator to keep her temperature regulated. She’s small, but very strong."

Strong.

That word hit me harder than it should have.

My daughter - our daughter - born fighting because the world didn’t know how to leave us alone.

When we stepped into the NICU, everything blurred for a moment.

Not the machines.

Not the nurses.

Not even the tiny cries from the other infants.

Just the sight of her.

My little girl.

She was so impossibly small that my breath caught in my throat. Wrapped in a soft pink blanket no bigger than a hand towel, an oxygen line resting beneath her nose, her tiny chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths like she was learning the very concept of living.

My knees almost buckled.

I moved toward her before anyone could guide me.

She looked nothing like the tough enemy all my life had prepared me for.

She looked fragile and very delicate.

A piece of Mira and me — made of everything soft I never knew I still had in me.

"She’s beautiful," a nurse whispered.

Beautiful was too simple a word.

She was breathtaking.

She was devastating.

She was mine.

"Can I..." My voice broke, and I had to swallow hard before continuing. "Can I hold her?"

"Of course," the nurse said gently. "We’ll help you."

I washed my hands. Sanitized. Removed my watch. My jacket. Anything that could interfere with touching her.

The nurse carefully lifted her from the incubator, wrapping her tighter in the blanket before placing her in my arms.

My arms.

The moment she touched me, the world changed.

Her body was feather-light — weightless almost — but the gravity she carried pulled my entire existence into a single, fragile point.

She blinked up at me with unfocused eyes, fighting to stay awake, fighting to be alive, fighting to find something familiar.

"You don’t have to fight anymore," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby girl."

Her fingers were so tiny they made my chest ache when they curled weakly against my shirt.

I exhaled a shaky breath.

I wasn’t prepared for this.

I wasn’t prepared for the way love hit me like a fist to the ribs, brutal in its intensity, beautiful in its simplicity.

I had killed men without blinking.

I had built an empire from nothing.

I had watched blood dry on my hands without remorse.

But one look at her...

one breath from her...

and I felt like I was the one who had been reborn.

"Hi, sweetheart," I whispered. "You came too early. Too small. But you’re here. And you’re safe. I promise you’re safe."

My throat tightened again.

Safe.

The word tasted like a lie.

Because I hadn’t protected Mira.

I hadn’t stopped the attack.

I hadn’t kept my daughter from being dragged into chaos before she could even breathe.

She squirmed softly, a tiny sound bubbling from her lips — not a cry, just a fragile protest at being awake in a world she wasn’t ready for.

"It’s okay," I murmured, rocking her lightly the way the nurse instructed. "Sleep. Daddy’s here."

Daddy.

The word tore something open inside me.

I wasn’t prepared for how deeply it hit.

Her breathing steadied as she settled against my chest, and I pressed my cheek lightly to her head.

She smelled like warm linen and the faintest hint of baby soap.

I breathed her in like oxygen.

"Your mother is fighting too," I whispered. "She’s strong. Stronger than me. She’ll wake up soon, and you’ll see her. I promise."

She twitched lightly at the sound of my voice.

Like she knew me.

Like she had been waiting to hear me.

My vision blurred.

The nurse touched my shoulder to tell me she needed to go back into the incubator for monitoring, but I shook my head once.

"Not yet," I said quietly. "Give me a minute."

The nurse hesitated... then nodded.

I held her closer, heart thudding in uneven, disbelieving beats.

"I’m going to make you a promise," I whispered. "The same one I made to your mother."

My jaw clenched.

"Nothing will ever hurt you again. Not one shadow. Not one enemy. Not one whisper. Not one ghost from my past."

I tightened my hold just slightly — protective, not harsh.

"Anyone who even thinks about harming you... anyone who thinks of touching what’s mine..."

My voice dropped, low and lethal.

"I’ll erase them from this world."

"Jace."

I turned sharply.

Donna stood at the entrance, wrapped in a dark coat, hair pinned up, eyes wide not with anger or fear, but grief.

I didn’t even hear her come in.

She’d rushed here — I could tell. Her makeup was smudged, her breathing heavy, her hands trembling slightly the way they did when she was terrified for someone she loved.

When her eyes landed on the baby in my arms, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Oh... mio Dio," she whispered. "La mia bambina..."

She crossed the room slowly, like approaching something sacred.

"She’s so small," Donna breathed. "So, so small..."

Her eyes glistened, her composure cracking.

"She looks like Mira."

"She fights like Mira," I said quietly.

Donna wiped a tear and touched the baby’s tiny hand with the back of her finger, terrified of hurting her.

"Your wife?" she asked softly.

"Unconscious. Stable. They won’t know more for hours."

She inhaled sharply and pulled me into a rare, fierce side embrace careful of the baby but desperate to give me something to hold onto.

I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until her arms went around me.

"My son," she whispered. "You cannot break. Not now. Your wife needs you. Your daughter needs you. And I need you."

I closed my eyes.

Maybe for the first time since this nightmare began, I let myself lean into her for a second.

Just a second.

When I straightened, the softness was gone.

What rose in its place wasn’t panic or grief.

It was something colder.

Something deadlier. .

"Mother," I said quietly.

She looked at me and her expression changed — she felt it too.

The shift.

The silent cracking of the ground under my feet.

"What are you thinking?" she asked carefully.

"I’m thinking," I said slowly, "that someone tried to kill my wife and child."

Her breath caught.

"And I’m thinking," I continued, voice steady, "that whoever is behind this believes I’m playing by new rules."

"And you’re not?" she asked.

I looked down at my daughter —asleep against my chest, breathing softly with the help of a tube.

Then I looked back at Donna.

"No," I said. "Not anymore."

A muscle in her jaw twitched.

"Jace..."

"I’m done being passive. I’m done waiting. I’m done not reacting." My jaw clenched as the anger rose further in the pit of my stomach.

I shifted my daughter gently into the nurse’s arms when she returned. My fingers lingered on her tiny form for a moment, then fell to my sides.

And when I straightened fully...

The man I had become for Mira...the gentle, patient, controlled man, blew away like dust.

What remained was the man the world used to fear.

The man who built an empire in blood.

The man who never lost.

Not once.

Donna saw it.

She recognized it.

She didn’t try to stop it.

She only whispered, "Then God help the one who did this."

"God won’t," I answered. "Not if I get there first."

I stepped out of the room and pulled out my phone.

One message.

To every man loyal to me.

Every soldier.

Every guard.

Every shadow I still had in this world.

Jace: Lock down the city. Find him. No mercy. No survivors. Whoever touched my family dies tonight.

When I hit send, there was no hesitation.

No guilt.

No fear.

Only purpose.

Only vengeance.

And I meant every word.