Page 90 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

He carried Jenny to my bedside and sat on the edge, cradling her. Little Jenny yawned, nuzzled into his arms, and fell back asleep.

Dante looked down at her for a long time.

"I never thought," he said quietly, "I'd have a day like this."

"What day?"

"Holding my own child. Sitting beside my wife's bed." He paused. "I thought I'd end up like Salvador. Living alone in the manor. No one beside me."

"But you're not."

"No." He looked at me, his eyes full of light. "I'm not."

The days after Jenny was born were the most chaotic and the most grounded of my life.

She had no sense of day or night. She cried when she wanted, woke when she wanted. When she cried in the middle of the night, I'd wake no matter how deeply I slept, fumbling in the dark to make her a bottle. And Dante—this Don who ruled New York's underworld—usually woke even faster.

Lucia taught him how to make bottles. The first time, he studied the water temperature for ages, burned his hand shaking it off, but still frowned until he got it just right before handing it to red-faced, crying Jenny.

"Dada." When Jenny got a little older and could speak, that was the first word she said.

Dante was in his study handling paperwork that day. When he heard it, his pen dropped onto the desk. He froze for several seconds before jumping up and rushing over. "What did she just say? Say it again."

"Dada." Little Jenny sat in my lap, holding her bottle, mumbling the word again, serious and clear.

Dante stood there, looking at me, then at his daughter. After a long moment, his voice came out rough. "Again."

"Dada."

That afternoon, Jenny said "Dada" many times. Dante answered every time, his voice trembling by the end.

On Jenny's one-year celebration,Dante threw a small party at the manor. Only close people came—Maggie, Lucia, Alfredo, Marco, and Luca.

Luca brought a pure silver rattle, finely crafted, catching the light in tiny glints. He played with Jenny in her cradle. She stared at him with round eyes, then suddenly grinned her toothless smile.

Luca paused, then laughed. "This little one's going to be a beauty when she grows up. Even more charming than her mother."

Dante snorted nearby. "That's my daughter."

"I'm not trying to steal her." Luca was exasperated. "I'm just playing with her."

"Don't." Dante walked over and lifted Jenny from the cradle. She immediately snuggled into his arms, clearly used to the position.

Luca shook his head. "Fine. Girl dad."

Lucia came from the kitchen carrying a fruit platter. Seeing Dante holding Jenny, she smiled. "I've been in this manor for decades. Never saw Dante like this. When he was little, Salvador was so strict with him. Barely held him at all."

Dante didn't respond. He just looked down at Jenny, his voice soft. "I'm not like him."

Lucia nodded. "No. You're not. You're a good father."

After the party ended and the guests left, I sat on the living room sofa holding Jenny. Dante sat beside me, reaching out to touch Jenny's cheek.

The room grew quiet. Only the crackling of the fireplace. Jenny slept in my arms, little fists curled by her face, breathing steady.

I looked at my daughter and suddenly remembered something. "Dante."

"Yeah?"