Chapter 1 - The Heartbeat and the Hitman
The silence in the examination room was absolute, shattered only by the rhythmic, rapid whoosh-whoosh of the tiny heartbeat echoing from the ultrasound monitor.
I sat on the edge of the examination table, wearing a flowing, off-the-shoulder white dress that draped softly over the undeniable curve of my four-month pregnancy. My blonde hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, framing a face that had just lost all its color.
Dominic Russo stood before me. He was a man who commanded the shadows of Chicago, and he brought that same suffocating, dangerous gravity into the sterile, brightly lit clinic. He wore a tailored black overcoat over a dark, unbuttoned shirt, his silver-rimmed luxury watch catching the fluorescent light as his hands twitched at his sides. His dark hair was slightly swept back, and his jaw was locked tight. His piercing eyes moved from the black-and-white static of the monitor, where his child was clearly visible, down to the swell of my stomach beneath the white fabric.
“How far along are you?” Dominic asked again, his voice dropping to a gravelly register that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Four months,” I managed to whisper, my hands gripping the edge of the paper-lined table.
Dominic didn’t hesitate. He stepped between my parted knees, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the room. He reached out, his large, warm hand settling possessively over the curve of my stomach. The heat of his palm seared through my dress. He looked into my eyes, searching for the lie and finding only the terrifying truth.
“You left,” he murmured, his face inches from mine, his breath smelling faintly of black coffee and mint. “You vanished before the sun came up, Chloe. You took my heir and you hid.”
Before I could formulate a defense, a voice cracked from the doorway.
“Chloe? What… what is going on here?”
Dominic didn’t even turn around. He simply shifted his weight, keeping his hand firmly on my stomach, anchoring me to him. I looked over Dominic’s broad shoulder.
Standing in the doorway was Derek. The smugness from the café was entirely gone, replaced by a pale, slack-jawed expression of utter confusion and dawning terror. Britney stood behind him, clutching her designer purse, her eyes darting between Dominic’s lethal posture and the two massive, suited bodyguards blocking the hallway. Dr. Miller, standing near the ultrasound machine, looked as though he might pass out.
“Who is the interruption?” Dominic asked softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s Derek,” I swallowed hard. “My ex-fiancé. The one I told you about… that night.”
A dark, terrifying amusement flickered in Dominic’s eyes. He finally turned his head slowly to look at the doorway.
Derek physically took a step back. Even a mid-level corporate manager like Derek recognized apex predators when he saw them. Dominic Russo wasn't just wealthy; he was the kind of wealth that made the law look the other way.
“You’re the one who called her fat at the café,” Dominic stated. It wasn't a question. One of Dominic’s men must have been trailing me. The realization that I had been watched this entire time sent a shiver down my spine.
“I… I didn’t mean—” Derek stammered, his eyes darting to the ultrasound screen, then to Dominic’s hand resting on my pregnant belly. “Wait. That’s… you’re pregnant? But we broke up five months ago. Who is this guy?”
Dominic’s hand slid from my stomach to wrap gently but firmly around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking my jawline. “I am the man who is going to ruin your life if you don't walk out of this clinic in the next five seconds.”
“You can’t just—” Derek tried to puff up his chest, a pathetic display of bravado.
Dominic didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. “Break his legs.”
The two bodyguards in the hall stepped forward instantly. Derek shrieked, grabbing Britney’s hand, and scrambled backward down the corridor, their frantic footsteps echoing until they reached the emergency exit.
Dominic turned back to me, his expression softening just a fraction, though the lethal edge remained. He looked at Dr. Miller, who was trembling by the monitor. “Print the scans. All of them. Then wipe the hard drive. My child’s medical records belong to me now.”
May you like
“Y-yes, Mr. Russo,” the doctor stuttered, frantically pushing buttons on the console.
Dominic looked down at me, his dark eyes intense and unyielding. “You are done hiding, Chloe. You traded a coward for a king, whether you intended to or not. Get your things. You’re coming home.”
