Stella's snacks covered every inch of the hospital coffee table. Jenna couldn't resist indulging, devouring most of them until her stomach bulged uncomfortably.

She reluctantly set down the last bite, leaving several untouched treats. Stella turned to Blanche and Grace, offering them the leftovers.

All three declined with polite gestures.

Unable to bear wasting food, Stella settled in to finish them herself.

Jenna shifted restlessly, too full to sit or lie down. She paced the room with Ethan hovering protectively beside her—one hand steadying her lower back, the other cradling her swollen belly.

Five grueling hours passed before her cervix dilated to four centimeters.

The epidural brought sweet relief. Jenna resumed her slow walks down the hallway, now only wincing slightly during contractions.

Another eight hours crawled by. Seven centimeters.

Frustration gnawed at Jenna. The doctor had estimated an eight-to-nine-hour labor. Why was this taking so much longer?

"Wasn't the epidural supposed to eliminate the pain?" she gritted out between breaths.

Three excruciating hours later—nine centimeters. Her water broke in a sudden gush, and nurses rushed her to delivery.

Outside, Ethan wore a path in the floor. Blanche and Harrison fidgeted in their seats. Milo, who'd arrived that evening, stood sentry by the doors.

One hour later, a nurse emerged with a swaddled bundle.

"Congratulations, Mr. Roscente. A healthy baby boy."

"Really?" Blanche's voice quivered with emotion.

Harrison's eyes glistened. "Our family line continues!"

Milo pumped his fist. "I'm an uncle!"

Ethan barely glanced at the infant. "How's my wife?"

"Second-degree tearing. The doctor's suturing now. She's exhausted—we'll take her straight to recovery."

Grace pressed a hand to her chest. "How severe is the tear?"

"The baby's head circumference was above average," the nurse explained gently.

Tears spilled down Grace's cheeks.

"We need to run newborn screenings. Which family members will accompany us?"

Grace and Benjamin followed immediately.

Ethan, Stella, Milo and Blanche remained outside.

When Jenna was wheeled out thirty minutes later, she looked ghostly pale—drenched in sweat, too spent to speak.

Ethan cradled her icy hand, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "Rest now, love. You were incredible."

Jenna managed a faint nod before surrendering to oblivion.

After settling her, the nurse reviewed post-delivery instructions and departed.

Blanche produced bottles and formula. "The little one will be hungry soon."

Stella blinked. "No breastfeeding?"

Blanche cast a protective glance at Jenna's unconscious form. "Formula. Let her body heal first."

Watching the Roscentes fuss over their new arrival, Stella felt an unexpected pang. Jenna had everything—a doting husband, devoted in-laws, now a male heir to secure her position.

Her future couldn't be brighter.