Chapter 6 - The Price of an Unborn Child |
There are moments when fear becomes so enormous that it stops feeling like fear.
It becomes silence.
When Dante showed me the messages, I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
I simply stared at the picture of the yellow nursery.
The walls were the exact color I had described to him weeks earlier.
A soft shade between buttercream and morning sunlight.
There was a white rocking chair beside the window.
A wooden crib stood against the opposite wall.
And on a shelf sat a stuffed rabbit with one floppy ear.
It was the nursery I'd imagined.
The nursery I'd described on our secret phone during a rainy Sunday afternoon.
"How did they know?" I asked.
Dante didn't answer immediately.
Gabriel stood beside the door.
Evelyn was on the telephone requesting preservation of the threatening messages.
"Dante."
He looked at me.
"How did they know?"
"We're investigating whether your communications were intercepted."
I stared at the rabbit.
"Arthur found the second phone."
Dante's expression tightened.
"When?"
"The morning he discovered the ultrasound."
I closed my eyes.
"I kept it inside an old architecture textbook. He brought the book into my bedroom and asked whether I'd been studying again."
Dante sat beside me.
"Did he take it?"
"I don't remember seeing it afterward."
The room seemed to shrink.
Every conversation I'd had with Dante.
Every foolish, beautiful dream.
Every whispered promise.
Arthur might have heard them all.
"He knew about the nursery," I whispered.
Gabriel looked at Dante.
"I'll coordinate with the investigators about the device."
Dante nodded.
Then turned to me.
"Nora, none of this changes what you deserve."
I shook my head.
"They're asking you to give up your terminal."
"Yes."
"And if you don't?"
"They're threatening us."
I looked at my stomach.
"Then give it to them."
Dante became very still.
"Nora."
"I don't care about a building."
"Neither do I."
"Then why are we even discussing it?"
He took a breath.
"Because handing it over may not end the threats."
I understood what he meant.
If Arthur and Voss had been willing to hurt a pregnant woman to pressure Dante, there was no reason to believe they'd become merciful after getting what they wanted.
But understanding didn't make the choice easier.
"I can't lose this baby."
Dante's eyes filled.
"Neither can I."
I placed his hand against my stomach.
"Then promise me you'll choose us over your empire."
He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"Every time."
I searched his face.
"Even if it costs you everything?"
"Especially then."
Later that day, Dante called a meeting with his board of directors.
He joined remotely from the hospital while his executives assembled in Manhattan.
One by one, their faces appeared on a conference screen.
The chief financial officer, Martin Keller, was the first to speak.
"We're hearing rumors about a possible sale of the South Shore terminal."
"There is no authorized sale," Dante said.
Martin frowned.
"Then why has Voss's firm contacted three board members?"
Dante leaned forward.
"What did they offer?"
"An extraordinary purchase premium."
Another director spoke.
"They claim the property is essential for a regional redevelopment initiative."
"That's what they're telling you," Dante replied.
Martin adjusted his glasses.
"Is there something we should know?"
Dante considered the question.
For years, he had protected his private life by separating it completely from his business.
Now that separation had collapsed.
He wasn't willing to reveal Nora's medical information to a room of executives.
But he could tell them what mattered.
"We have credible evidence that parties seeking the terminal may be using coercive tactics."
The room went quiet.
Martin looked alarmed.
"Are you saying there's a criminal investigation?"
"I'm saying our legal team is cooperating with the appropriate authorities."
A director named Richard Bell leaned toward his camera.
"These allegations could damage the company."
Dante met his gaze.
"Then perhaps you should be more concerned about who we're doing business with."
Richard reddened.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know exactly what you meant."
Dante closed the folder in front of him.
"No sale. No negotiation. No unauthorized access to company records."
He looked directly at Martin.
"Conduct an independent audit of every approach Voss's group has made to our employees and contractors."
Martin nodded.
"Understood."
The meeting ended.
Gabriel entered the room carrying another report.
"Something happened during the call."
Dante looked up.
"What?"
"Someone attempted to access the company's legal archive using credentials assigned to Richard Bell's executive assistant."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Was access granted?"
"Blocked."
"Notify our cybersecurity team and outside counsel."
Gabriel nodded.
Dante looked toward the hospital wing.
He was beginning to understand that Voss had built his plan around isolation.
Separate Nora from safety.
Separate Dante from his business.
Separate witnesses from evidence.
Then make every person believe they had no choice.
Dante intended to change that.
That evening, Sarah helped me walk slowly along the hospital corridor.
My doctors wanted me to move carefully when appropriate, but only as tolerated.
Every step reminded me of my injuries.
Dante walked beside me.
He didn't rush.
He didn't tell me I was doing wonderfully.
He simply matched my pace.
At the end of the corridor stood a large window overlooking the city.
Chicago shimmered beneath a cold blue sky.
Cars moved along the streets like tiny lights.
Somewhere out there, people were buying groceries, meeting friends, complaining about traffic, and arguing over dinner plans.
Ordinary things.
Things I suddenly wanted more than anything.
"Do you know what I miss?" I asked.
Dante smiled faintly.
"What?"
"Going to a bookstore without someone checking whether I'm allowed."
His smile faded.
I hadn't meant to make him sad.
"Arthur used to track my credit cards," I explained.
"If I bought anything he didn't approve of, he'd ask questions."
"That's going to change."
"I know."
I looked through the glass.
"But I don't know who I am without him watching."
Dante remained silent for a moment.
"Who did you want to be before you met Arthur?"
I laughed softly.
"An architect."
"I know."
"No, I mean I really wanted it."
I remembered long nights sketching buildings at my mother's kitchen table.
I remembered receiving an acceptance letter from a graduate program.
And I remembered Arthur telling me it would be embarrassing for a future district attorney's wife to spend her evenings in classrooms.
"Then maybe it's time you started again," Dante said.
I turned toward him.
"I'm pregnant."
"Architects have children."
"I'm recovering from serious injuries."
"Architects recover from injuries too."
I raised an eyebrow.
"And their billionaire boyfriends don't buy them universities?"
He smiled.
"Not without permission."
I laughed.
This time, the sound felt like mine.
Then a tiny movement fluttered beneath my ribs.
I stopped.
Dante immediately looked concerned.
"What's wrong?"
I grabbed his hand.
"Nothing."
I placed it against my stomach.
"Wait."
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the baby moved again.
Dante froze.
His eyes widened.
"Was that—"
"Yes."
He stared at my stomach.
Then at me.
A stunned smile appeared across his face.
"Oh, sweetheart."
He sank carefully to one knee.
Right there in the hospital corridor.
A nurse passing nearby smiled.
Dante pressed his palm gently against the curve of my stomach.
"Hello in there," he whispered.
I felt tears slide down my cheeks.
"Your daddy's causing a lot of trouble."
He looked up at me.
"Only the respectable kind."
For a moment, the fear disappeared.
There was only us.
And a tiny heartbeat.
And the possibility of tomorrow.
At the same time, Arthur sat in a private dining room overlooking Lake Michigan.
Across from him was Adrian Voss.
Voss was fifty-eight, silver-haired, and dressed in a charcoal suit.
His manner was almost grandfatherly.
That made him more frightening.
"You're losing control," Voss said.
Arthur gripped his water glass.
"Nora is being protected by Corvino."
"You were supposed to prevent that."
"I couldn't predict she would reach a hospital."
Voss regarded him with mild disappointment.
"Your inability to predict consequences is why you owe me eighteen million dollars."
Arthur leaned forward.
"I can still deliver the terminal."
"How?"
"Corvino loves her."
Voss smiled.
"Men have always made poor decisions when love is involved."
Arthur didn't respond.
Voss opened a leather folder.
Inside was a photograph of Margaret Sullivan leaving her house.
Arthur stiffened.
"Why do you have that?"
"Your mother possesses something important."
"What?"
"A key."
Arthur stared.
Voss continued.
"Your father's safe-deposit box contains records that should have been destroyed years ago."
Arthur shook his head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Voss's smile vanished.
"Don't insult me."
He leaned closer.
"Your father was useful. You have been disappointing."
Arthur's face drained.
"What do you want?"
"Retrieve the contents of that box."
"And Nora?"
Voss closed the folder.
"Leave the pregnant woman alone for now."
Arthur relaxed slightly.
Then Voss added:
"Unless, of course, her death becomes the only way to keep those records buried."
Back at the hospital, a woman in a gray coat approached the security desk.
She introduced herself as Claire Bennett, an attorney representing an estate.
She carried a sealed envelope addressed to Dante Corvino.
Gabriel inspected her credentials before allowing her into the conference room.
Claire did not sit.
"I was instructed to deliver this only after certain names appeared together in an active investigation."
Dante frowned.
"Which names?"
"Arthur Sullivan and Adrian Voss."
She placed the envelope on the table.
"Who instructed you?"
Claire looked at him.
"Isabella Romano Corvino."
Dante stopped breathing.
"My wife has been dead for twelve years."
"I know."
Claire's expression softened.
"She left instructions with an attorney who is now deceased. His records were transferred to our firm."
Dante stared at the envelope.
Claire continued quietly.
"Mrs. Corvino believed that one day, you might discover the truth."
He opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The first line made his knees weaken.
Dante, if you're reading this, the men I was investigating finally found a way to silence me.
May you like
And the last line was even worse.
Please forgive me for not telling you about the baby.
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