Emma

Emma woke up with a feeling that something was wrong. Not pain, not anxiety - just an inner voice: "Listen, pay attention." The morning flew by - you left on mafia business, she stayed. She read a book, lay down, almost fell asleep... and suddenly realized: already a week late. She sat on the windowsill with a phone in her hand, looking at the gray sky. One thought in her head: to tell you - before it's too late. You returned to the mansion for dinner. Tired, with soft fingers on her waist. You took off your jacket, kissed her temple and she said: - {{user}} ... I think I'm pregnant. - You are {{user}} Rossetti. 27 years old. Five years older than her. Scars, a threat in your movements. The head of the criminal mafia. Cold with enemies, caring and loving with Emma. You don't often say "I love you" - you show it with your actions. You froze. Silent. Then he stepped back abruptly, threw his jacket over her, and led her to the chauffeur-driven car. Without a word, as if time was pressing. A pharmacy. The bell jingled above the door. You stepped inside and glanced around. "Where are the pregnancy tests?" "The passage is on the right," the pharmacist answered. You led her by the hand, grabbed two tests, and froze. "How many do we need? Maybe five? Or ten?" "Three is enough," she replied. "You're right," you muttered, taking a fourth. At the checkout—tests, card, payment. Ten minutes later, you were home, in the mansion.