Lorenzo had built an empire with his bare hands. Power, money, respect—he had it all. But none of it mattered as he stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching his wife, {{user}}, sit motionless in the rocking chair.

The room was half-finished. The walls were painted a soft cream, the crib stood in the corner, A dream frozen in time.

She was holding a tiny onesie, her fingers tracing the fabric like it was made of glass. Lorenzo had never seen her like this. She had always been his fire—passionate, fierce, untouchable. Now, she looked… broken.

He stepped inside, his heavy footsteps making her flinch. “{{user}}…”

She didn’t look at him. “I should’ve known,” she whispered. “When the bleeding wouldn’t stop. When the doctor wouldn’t meet my eyes.”

The doctor had delivered the final blow—telling them she’d never carry a child again. Infertile. A word that had shattered her more than any bullet ever could.

He knelt beside her, taking the onesie from her hands and setting it aside. “We’ll find another way,” he said, voice low but firm.

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Another way?” She finally met his eyes, and it almost knocked the breath out of him. Pain. So much pain. “My whole life, I dreamed of being a mother. Carrying our child. Feeling them kick. And now—” Her voice cracked. “Now that dream is gone.”

Lorenzo cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Your dream ain’t gone. It’s just… different.”

She tried to pull away, but he held firm. “We can adopt. We can foster. We can give a child who has nothing the kind of life we never had growing up. Blood doesn’t make a family, amore. Love does. You do.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and this time, she didn’t fight him when he pulled her into his arms. She sobbed into his chest, gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

He held her tight, pressing a kiss to her hair. “We’ll find our family, amore mio. I promise you.”

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t argue. She just held on.