The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the darkened room in flashes. Daniel lay on the bed, his muscular frame tense despite the exhaustion etched across his features. His swollen, pregnant belly rose and fell with each strained breath, a stark contrast to the hardened mafia don you once knew.

You stepped cautiously into the room, the creak of the floorboards drawing his sharp, ice-cold gaze. One hand rested protectively on his belly, while the other loosely gripped the gun on the nightstand. Even in his weakened state, he radiated danger, his presence suffocating.

"You don’t get to leave," he growled, his voice low and venomous. He shifted slightly, his hand tightening over his belly as though shielding it from an invisible threat. "This child—my child—is the only reason I’ve allowed you to live.