“What the fuck does that mean?”
“The next twenty-four hours are very critical to her survival.”
I would’ve collapsed to the floor again if Rafe hadn’t caught me. Although the fear had been there, it wasn’t the same as hearing it from the doctor. “Drea could die?”
“We’re doing everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“Oh God,” I murmured.
“What about the baby?” Rafe asked.
Despite my distress, I threw him a disgusted look. Why should I care about a baby that wasn’t mine? A baby whose delivery had caused Drea’s condition.
Dr. O’Shea smiled. “Despite the trauma of your wife’s delivery, he’s doing remarkably well. He’s being well taken care of in our NICU.”
“Luca is alive? But he's two months early.”
Frowning, Dr. Shea said, “Actually, it’s only a month. Perhaps the doctor had the dates wrong.”
And then it hit me. The dates were wrong because of when Drea had actually gotten pregnant. Just one of many lies she’d told me. “Maybe,” I replied.
“He’s what we consider a late preterm. They’re basically just monitoring his temperature and giving him some breathing support. I don’t think he’ll require it for long.”
“That’s good to hear,” Rafe replied when I didn’t.
“If you would like, I could have someone escort you to the NICU?”
Apparently, Dr. O’Shea had gotten the message loud and clear about who I was. “I don’t want to leave my wife,” I lied.
“I can assure you she is getting the best care.”
Rafe stepped between Dr. O’Shea and me. “Go check on Luca,” he demanded.
After scowling at him, I stepped around him to nod at Dr. O’Shea. “I’d appreciate that.”
“We’ll stay here with Drea,” Gianni said.
“Fine.”
As we made our way back to the nurses' station, Dr. O’Shea said in a low voice, “My father is an accountant for the Mallon family. I believe they are allies of yours.”
“They are. I will make sure they know of your support.”
“While I’m an outsider, I know my father would appreciate it.”
“In the meantime, I want you to locate the best specialists in the world for Drea’s condition. Money is no object.”
Dr. O’Shea’s green eyes widened. “Yes, I’ll get right on that.”
“Don’t you have other surgeries?”
“I can find another surgeon.”
“That’s a very good answer.”
The nurse who had escorted me to Drea’s room stared apprehensively between Dr. O’Shea and me. “Did you need something, Mr. Neretti?”
“I’d like to see my son in the NICU.”
