Norah Hayes had survived five months inside Dominic Russo’s mansion without a scratch.
She had survived the armed guards, the security cameras, the midnight lockdowns, and the unsettling silence that followed whenever her employer returned from one of his mysterious business trips.
But she was beginning to suspect that surviving Dominic Russo’s house would be considerably easier than surviving his reaction to the secret growing inside her.
She was twenty-one weeks pregnant.
And the father of her unborn child was the most feared mafia boss in Chicago.
Norah pressed her palm against the cool marble kitchen counter as a familiar ache spread across her lower back.
Outside, the late-April sunshine warmed the manicured lawns of the Russo estate. Inside, she wore an oversized cable-knit sweater that belonged in the middle of December.
She had been wearing oversized clothing for weeks.
Nobody had questioned it.
Not Maria, the elderly housekeeper who supervised the domestic staff.
Not the guards who stood outside the kitchen demanding coffee.
Not even Lily, Dominic’s four-year-old daughter, who had recently developed an obsession with asking why grown-ups behaved so strangely.
But Dominic Russo was different.
He noticed everything.
And Norah knew that eventually, he would notice her.
“Nora!”
A small voice echoed through the hallway.
Norah straightened immediately.
“I’m in the kitchen, Bug!”
Lily Russo came racing around the corner, her dark curls bouncing and her socks sliding across the polished hardwood floor.
She was holding a stuffed rabbit by one ear.
“Look what I made!”
The little girl thrust a piece of construction paper toward Norah.
It was a drawing of three people standing beneath an enormous yellow sun.
One was small, with curly hair.
One was tall, dressed entirely in black.
The third wore a blue dress.
Norah smiled.
“Is that us?”
Lily nodded enthusiastically.
“That’s Daddy. That’s me. And that’s you.”
Norah examined the drawing.
Something about the little blue figure made her throat tighten.
Lily had drawn a round circle over its stomach.
“What’s this, sweetheart?”
Lily tilted her head.
“Your tummy.”
Norah’s smile faltered.
“My tummy?”
“Yeah. It’s getting big.”
For one terrible second, Norah forgot how to breathe.
Then Lily giggled.
“Maybe you ate too many cookies.”
Norah forced herself to laugh.
“Maybe I did.”
She carefully folded the drawing and placed it on the counter.
But when she turned around, she realized that someone else had entered the kitchen.
Dominic Russo stood in the doorway.
He was wearing a dark Henley and jeans. His knuckles were split, and a purple bruise marked his left cheekbone.
He had been gone for three days.
Norah had hoped he would remain gone for three more.
“Daddy!”
Lily ran toward him.
Dominic crouched and caught his daughter in his arms.
For a brief moment, the hard lines of his face softened.
“Hello, princess.”
“You missed my drawing.”
“Did I?”
“I made one of us.”
Lily pointed toward the kitchen counter.
Dominic followed her gesture.
His eyes settled on the drawing.
Then they moved to Norah.
She instinctively pulled her sweater closer around her body.
Something shifted in his expression.
It was subtle.
Almost imperceptible.
But Norah had spent five months learning how to read the man who employed her.
He had noticed something.
“Is she fed?” he asked.
“Chicken and vegetables about an hour ago.”
“Her medication?”
“She took her allergy medicine after breakfast, just as the pediatrician instructed.”
Dominic nodded.
He set Lily down and walked toward the sink.
Cold water ran over his injured hands.
Norah looked away.
Four and a half months earlier, those same hands had touched her with a tenderness she had never expected from him.
She remembered the safe room.
The darkness.
The blood soaking through his shirt.
The sound of gunfire beyond the reinforced walls.
She remembered Dominic telling her that Lily was safe.
She remembered the way his voice had changed when he admitted that he had been afraid.
Not for himself.
For his daughter.
And she remembered what happened afterward.
One night.
One moment when two frightened people had forgotten the world waiting outside.
By morning, Dominic had returned to being her employer.
Norah had returned to being Lily’s nanny.
Neither had spoken about what happened.
Then her period had been late.
The nausea had followed.
And eventually, Norah had discovered that she was carrying Dominic Russo’s child.
“You look pale.”
His voice interrupted her thoughts.
Norah turned.
“I’m fine.”
Dominic dried his hands.
“You’ve been saying that for weeks.”
“Lily has a lot of energy.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He approached her.
Norah resisted the urge to step backward.
His eyes moved over her face, her sweater, and the hand she had unconsciously placed against her abdomen.
“You’re wearing winter clothes in April.”
“I run cold.”
“You used to wear short sleeves in February.”
Norah swallowed.
“I suppose my body is changing.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Changing how?”
“Nothing serious.”
He stared at her.
Norah felt the baby move.
A tiny flutter.
Barely noticeable.
But enough to remind her that every decision she made now affected another life.
Dominic glanced toward Lily, who had returned to coloring at the kitchen table.
“Take the weekend off.”
Norah blinked.
“What?”
“You look exhausted. Go home. Rest.”
“I don’t need time off.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
He turned toward the hallway.
Then stopped.
“Norah.”
She looked up.
“If something is wrong, tell me.”
For one dangerous moment, she almost did.
She almost told him about the nausea, the secret appointments, and the little heartbeat she had heard for the first time twelve weeks earlier.
But then she remembered the armed guards.
The surveillance cameras.
The way Dominic controlled every movement inside his compound.
And the stories about what happened to people who betrayed him.
“I’m fine, Mr. Russo.”
He studied her for another moment.
Then he walked away.
Only when his footsteps disappeared did Norah release the breath she had been holding.
She placed both hands over her stomach.
“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered.
But she was no longer certain she believed it.
That evening, after Lily had fallen asleep, Norah returned to her small bedroom on the ground floor.
She locked the door.
Then she removed the sweater.
In the mirror, her pregnancy was impossible to deny.
Her stomach had rounded considerably over the previous month.
She ran her palm across it.
“Hello, little one.”
The baby moved again.
Norah smiled despite herself.
For a few precious seconds, the fear disappeared.
She imagined a different life.
A small apartment with sunlight coming through the windows.
A crib beside her bed.
A kitchen where she could make breakfast without armed men standing outside the door.
She imagined taking her child to the park.
Buying tiny shoes.
Watching those shoes become too small.
She imagined being a mother without constantly looking over her shoulder.
Then someone knocked.
Norah froze.
“Who is it?”
“Maria.”
Norah quickly pulled on her sweater and opened the door.
The older woman stood outside holding a folded blanket.
“You left this in the laundry.”
“Thank you.”
Maria handed it over.
Her gaze briefly lowered toward Norah’s stomach.
Then she looked back at her face.
“Are you feeling well, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
Maria did not appear convinced.
“You know, I raised four children. I can recognize exhaustion when I see it.”
Norah attempted a smile.
“I’m just tired.”
Maria touched her arm.
“Then get some sleep.”
She started to leave.
But before she reached the hallway, she stopped.
“And Norah?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Norah’s stomach tightened.
“About what?”
Maria looked toward the security camera mounted above the corridor.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Some secrets become dangerous when the wrong people discover them.”
She walked away before Norah could ask what she meant.
That night, Norah barely slept.
She lay awake listening to the distant footsteps of guards changing shifts.
At three in the morning, she heard a vehicle entering the compound.
At four, someone walked past her bedroom door.
At five, the baby began moving again.
Norah rested her hand over the tiny kicks.
She had already decided that she could not remain in Dominic’s house forever.
She needed money.
A safe place to live.
And a way to disappear without putting Lily in danger.
But before she could make any plans, she needed to know whether her baby was healthy.
Saturday morning, she left the compound carrying a small purse and enough cash for an appointment at a clinic across the city.
She left her phone behind.
Dominic tracked the staff’s phones.
He called it security.
Norah called it a leash.
She took two buses and a taxi.
At the clinic, a nurse called her name.
Fifteen minutes later, Norah lay on an examination table while Dr. Aris moved an ultrasound wand across her abdomen.
“There,” the doctor said.
She turned the monitor.
Norah stopped breathing.
A tiny face appeared on the screen.
A delicate nose.
A curved spine.
One little hand resting beside the baby’s cheek.
Then the heartbeat filled the room.
Strong.
Steady.
Real.
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Aris said. “Growth is right on track for twenty-one weeks.”
Norah covered her mouth.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
For months, she had been terrified of this pregnancy.
But looking at the screen, she realized something that frightened her even more.
She already loved this child more than anything in the world.
“Would you like to know the sex?”
Norah shook her head.
“Not yet.”
The doctor smiled gently.
“That’s perfectly fine.”
She printed a small ultrasound photograph.
Norah accepted it with trembling fingers.
She knew she should not keep it.
It was evidence.
Something Dominic could discover.
But she could not bring herself to throw away the first clear picture of her baby.
She slipped it into the inside pocket of her coat.
Only for today, she promised herself.
She would find somewhere safe to hide it tonight.
When Norah returned to the compound, the sky had turned purple.
She passed through the security checkpoint and entered the mansion.
She was halfway toward her bedroom when a voice emerged from the formal living room.
“You were gone a long time.”
Dominic stood beside the fireplace.
A glass of amber liquor rested in his hand.
Norah stopped walking.
“I had errands.”
“Six hours of errands?”
“The buses were slow.”
He set down his glass.
“My security chief tells me you left your phone here.”
“I forgot it.”
Dominic approached.
“You’ve been exhausted. You’re hiding under oversized clothes. You’ve been avoiding me.”
Norah gripped the strap of her purse.
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Then explain why you went to a clinic on Fourth Street.”
Her blood turned cold.
Dominic watched her face.
“I had the street cameras checked.”
Norah could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart.
“You went to a medical clinic, Norah. And you paid in cash.”
She needed a lie.
Immediately.
“I have a mass.”
Dominic went still.
“A mass?”
“In my abdomen.”
His expression hardened.
“What kind of mass?”
“A tumor.”
The word tasted bitter.
“They think it’s benign.”
Dominic looked at her stomach.
Then at her face.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to lose my job.”
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
He stepped aside.
“Go get some rest.”
Norah nodded and hurried toward her bedroom.
She closed the door.
Locked it.
And leaned against the wood.
Her hands shook as she removed the ultrasound photograph from her coat.
She stared at the tiny face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Then she opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and slipped the photograph beneath a stack of folded clothes.
She had just closed the drawer when she heard footsteps outside.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
Then Dominic spoke.
“Norah.”
Her heart stopped.
“Open the door.”