Chapter 3 - The DiscoveryThe minutes ticked by like hours.
Norah stood trapped against Dominic’s chest, her breathing ragged and shallow. She could feel the steady, powerful thud of his heart beneath his shirt. It was a cruel irony—the same heart that had created the life growing inside her was now racing with the intent to destroy her.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway.
Marcus reappeared in the doorway of the library. He wasn't holding a wiretap. He wasn't holding a federal badge or a weapon from a rival syndicate.
In his large, calloused hand, Marcus held a single, small strip of glossy photographic paper.
Dominic’s eyes flicked to the paper in Marcus’s hand.
The color drained entirely from Dominic’s face. The fierce, terrifying cartel boss froze as if he had been struck by lightning.
Marcus walked slowly into the room, holding out the ultrasound like a piece of toxic waste.
“Found it taped to the underside of the bottom drawer in her dresser, boss,” Marcus muttered, looking somewhat confused. He glanced at Norah, then back to Dominic. “Looks like... well, looks like an X-ray of something medical. Some kind of scan.”
Dominic released Norah’s wrists as if her skin had suddenly turned to fire.
He stepped away, stumbling backward until the edge of his mahogany desk pressed against his lower back. He reached out and snatched the ultrasound strip from Marcus’s hand.
His slate-gray eyes scanned the tiny, perfectly formed profile. The spine. The hands.
The math hit him with the force of a freight train.
Five months.
Five months since the night of the lockdown in the safe room. Five months since two desperate people had collided in the dark amidst the gunfire and the blood.
Dominic looked up slowly. His gaze locked onto Norah, who was now backed against the bookshelves, her arms wrapped protectively around her protruding belly, her chest heaving as silent tears streamed down her face.
“You’re pregnant,” Dominic whispered. It wasn't a question. It was the realization of an earthquake shifting the foundation of his entire world.
“Yes,” Norah choked out, her voice breaking entirely. “I’m pregnant.”
“Why?” Dominic demanded, his voice rising, cracking with a mixture of fury, disbelief, and a terrifying, unfamiliar vulnerability. “Why would you hide this from me? Why run? Why lie about a tumor?!”
“Because I didn't want to raise my child in a slaughterhouse!” Norah screamed back, the pent-up terror and exhaustion of five months finally erupting out of her in a blinding wave of rage.
She pushed away from the bookshelf, stepping toward him, pointing a shaking finger at his chest.
“Look around you, Dominic! This house is built on blood, extortion, and paranoia! Every single day men with guns walk these halls waiting for someone to try and blow your brains out! Do you think I wanted to bring a baby into this fortress?! Do you think I wanted you to look at my child and see an heir, a pawn, or a target?!”
Marcus quietly backed out of the library, closing the heavy oak doors behind him without making a sound. He knew when a storm was too big for anyone else to witness.
Dominic stood frozen in the center of the room. The ultrasound strip was clutched so tightly in his fist that the glossy paper was beginning to crease.
“An heir,” Dominic repeated hollowly. He looked at Norah, really looked at her—not as an employee, not as a nanny, not as a potential threat, but as the mother of his blood. “You thought I would use my own child as a pawn?”
“I didn't know what you would do!” Norah sobbed, her knees finally giving out.
She slid down the side of the bookshelf, burying her face in her hands as the emotional dam completely broke. The bulky cable-knit sweater parted slightly, revealing the undeniable, rounded curve of her five-month pregnancy that she had tortured herself to conceal for half a year.
Dominic stared at her.
May you like
For the first time since she had known him, the infallible, untouchable cartel boss looked completely destroyed.
He dropped to his knees on the Persian rug in front of her.
