His Unwanted Ex Begs For Second Chances

Liam Russo POV

I stared at the pale hand gripping the door frame, the knuckles showing white.

I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth, forcing down the metallic taste of my own anger. When I spoke, the words were raw, like sand dragged across a stone floor: "Take your hand off my car."

"I want a front-row seat to this charade you're putting on," Elena demanded, her chin jutting out in defiance.

I closed my hand over her wrist. The bird-like bones grated together under my thumb, and a sharp hiss of air escaped her lips. I peeled her fingers off the metal and flung her hand from the vehicle as if brushing off something soiled.

"Get in," I told Sienna softly, helping her step up into the cabin.

Before I could close the door, Elena lunged again. She tried to duck under my arm, aiming for the front passenger seat. My lead Enforcer moved without a command; his hand clamped onto her shoulder and shoved her hard against the hood of the nearest Maybach.

"Keep your garbage away from my vehicle," I ordered, the urge to end her pulsing in my knuckles. But Sienna was already inside, and a brawl on the street would only cause her distress.

I slid into the rear seat beside my wife and slammed the heavy door, signaling the driver to move. Through the tinted glass, I watched Elena scream in frustration before scrambling toward her own sports car to give chase.

The heavy SUV pulled away from the curb, leaving the line of Maybachs behind.

In the convoy, my Consigliere's vehicle pulled out smoothly, transporting our one-year-old daughter to the hospital's pediatric wing for her checkup.

During the ride, the cabin of the SUV was a quiet, insulated space, sealed off from the chaos Elena had brought to our doorstep.

I kept my eyes on Sienna, adjusting the climate control so the cold air would not hit her directly.

Through the rear-view glass, I saw Elena's sports car swerving behind us, a desperate, erratic chase that spoke of nothing but ruin.

"She is losing her mind," I murmured, the sound a low rumble meant only for her. "Are you comfortable?" I asked Sienna, turning my focus back to the woman who mattered.

Sienna nodded, her hand resting over mine on the firm swell of her stomach.

We arrived at the heavily guarded private maternity hospital owned by my syndicate.

I stepped out first, offering my hand to Sienna and escorting her toward the VIP obstetrics wing.

As we passed through the automated doors, Elena's heels clicked sharply on the polished floor behind us. She must have called ahead, because Julian Romano was already in the lobby, having sped across town to intercept us.

We walked into the private waiting area. The corridor air was thick with the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic, and a low hum vibrated from the fluorescent lights overhead.

Julian Romano was sitting on one of the leather couches.

He stood up as we entered, holding a massive bouquet of cheap red roses.

"Congratulations on the marriage, Liam," Julian said, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

Before the cloying scent of pollen could reach me, my lead Enforcer stepped forward. He snatched the bouquet from Julian's hands and ground the flowers under his combat boot, crushing the stems and petals into the tile.

"Jesus, calm down," Julian laughed, tossing his hands up in mock surrender.

"I'm just trying to be polite to the man and his hired civilian," Julian said loudly, his eyes scanning Sienna's pregnant belly with open disrespect. "Must have cost a lot to find a random woman willing to execute such a petty revenge scheme."

"Be careful, Jules," Elena rushed forward, placing a protective hand on Julian's arm. "He's very sensitive and lashing out."

A triage nurse walked into the waiting room, holding a digital tablet.

"Sienna Moretti?" the nurse called out.

Sienna stood up, and I placed my hand on the small of her back to guide her forward.

"I need the family member to sign the preliminary intake forms," the nurse said, looking around the room.

Elena let out a sharp, dismissive laugh.

"He cannot sign anything; he's just throwing a tantrum," Elena told the nurse.

The nurse looked between us, her stylus hovering over the tablet screen, her confusion palpable.

I stepped forward, my voice pitched to carry through the room, ostensibly for the nurse, but each word was a spadeful of earth for the two figures standing behind me.