Chapter 2 - The Heartbeat
The steady, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of our baby’s heartbeat filled the small examination room, drowning out the ambient noise of the clinic. Dominic Russo, a man rumored to order executions without blinking, stood completely frozen. He didn't look at the two armed guards standing perfectly still by the door. He didn't look at Dr. Miller, who was trembling so hard he could barely hold the ultrasound wand.
Dominic’s dark, piercing eyes were locked entirely on the black-and-white screen, tracking the tiny, flickering pulse of life.
"Yes," I whispered, the word barely escaping my throat. "It's yours."
Dominic let out a breath that sounded like a fractured sigh. He stepped up to the examination table, his large, calloused hand reaching out. He hovered his fingers just an inch above the curve of my stomach, as if he were afraid his touch might shatter me. Then, gently, he rested his palm against the warm skin of my belly.
The most feared man in Chicago closed his eyes, an expression of profound, earth-shattering reverence washing over his sharp features.
"I tore this city apart looking for you," Dominic murmured, his voice a thick, low rasp. "For four months, Chloe. I had half my men tearing through hotel registries and guest lists. You vanished."
"I was afraid," I admitted quietly. "You live in a different world."
"You are my world now," he stated, opening his eyes and locking his gaze with mine. It wasn't a romantic platitude; it was a vow, sealed with the terrifying finality of a mob boss making a blood pact.
"Well, well, well. Isn't this a touching scene."
The sarcastic, mocking voice sliced through the heavy emotional atmosphere like a cheap knife.
Dominic’s hand didn't move from my stomach, but the temperature in the room instantly plummeted. He slowly turned his head.
Derek stood in the open doorway, practically overflowing with arrogant confusion. Britney was peeking over his shoulder, holding a folder from the reception desk. They must have come in for a routine check-up, completely unaware they had just walked into the center of a hurricane.
"Derek," I breathed, my heart spiking with sudden anxiety.
Derek smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "I followed you down the hall after you ran out of the café. I figured you were coming to a weight-loss clinic. But this? A baby? Let me guess, you got knocked up by some random guy right after I dumped you? Classy, Chloe."
He hadn't realized who was standing in the room. Derek was a mid-level financial analyst; he read spreadsheets, not the faces of the underworld.
Dominic finally lifted his hand from my stomach. He turned fully toward the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking me from Derek's view.
"Who is this?" Dominic asked me, his voice dangerously calm.
"My ex-fiancé," I replied. "The one I told you about. The one who left me two weeks before the gala."
Dominic tilted his head a fraction of an inch. The reverence that had softened his face only moments ago was instantly replaced by the cold, dead-eyed calculation of an apex predator.
"Ah," Dominic said smoothly. "The man who threw away a diamond to collect a pebble."
Britney gasped, her face flushing red. Derek’s arrogant smile faltered, anger flaring in his eyes. "Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, pal?"
The two guards by the door instantly drew their suppressed weapons, the metallic clack of rounds chambering echoing sharply in the confined space.
Derek froze, all the blood draining from his face as the black barrels of two firearms aimed directly at his chest. Britney let out a terrified shriek and backed away into the hallway.
"My name is Dominic Russo," Dominic said, taking a slow, measured step toward Derek. "And you have exactly five seconds to explain why you are breathing the same air as the mother of my child."
Derek’s knees buckled. He recognized the name. Anyone who lived in Chicago and read a newspaper recognized the name. The smug, condescending ex-fiancé who had publicly humiliated me less than an hour ago was now shaking so violently he had to grab the doorframe to stay upright.
"Mr... Mr. Russo," Derek stammered, his eyes wide with unadulterated terror. "I... I didn't know. I swear to God, I didn't know."
"You called her fat," Dominic noted, his tone mild but laced with lethal intent. "My men were sitting two tables away from you in the café. They heard every word. I was already on my way to deal with you, but you saved me the trip."
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"Please," Derek begged, tears actually springing to his eyes. "It was a joke! A stupid joke!"
Dominic didn't raise his voice. He simply looked at one of his guards. "Take him outside. I don't want his face upsetting my child."
