Page 42 of Punishing His Runaway Bride

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"Want to come look, Dad?" Dr. Green asked. "Better view from here."

I stepped over and stood next to the exam bed.

The screen lit up.

At first, it was just blurs and grays, like some abstract painting. Then it started to take shape.

I saw it.

A small outline, curled in the dark. Round head. Curved body. And—

"Look here," Dr. Green said, pointing to a tiny flashing point. "That's the heart."

The point was beating.

Fast. Steady.

I stared at that screen and felt something catch in my throat.

That was the Visconti heir.

My blood.

My kid.

"Baby's very healthy," Dr. Green said, smiling. "Heart rate's normal, size matches the gestational age. You two are doing great."

She moved the probe. The image slid across the screen.

"This is the arm, you see? And the hand—"

A tiny hand appeared on the screen.

Five fingers. Each one crystal clear.

My breathing stopped.

"Oh my God," Olivia said, her voice shaking. "Is that...is that her hand?"

"Yes," Dr. Green said. "Perfect little hand."

"So small," Olivia breathed, eyes wide. "Such small fingers."

I stared at that hand and couldn't speak.

So small. Impossibly small. But those five fingers were real, visible, you could even see the shape of the fingertips.

"And feet," Dr. Green continued, moving the probe again. "Look, baby's active."

On the screen, the tiny body moved.

Arms stretched. Legs kicked. The whole thing flipped over.

Something expanded in my chest.

Not the tight pressure I usually carried. Something else—something molten and overwhelming that nearly stopped my breath.

"It's moving," Olivia said, hand flying to her mouth, tears spilling down her face without warning. "It's moving! Ezio, did you see? Did you see?"

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