Norah stared at the bedroom door.
For a moment, she considered pretending she had fallen asleep.
But Dominic Russo was not a man who accepted silence as an answer.
“Norah.”
His voice was lower this time.
She unlocked the door.
Dominic stood in the hallway, still wearing the dark clothes he had worn when she returned.
His expression was controlled.
That frightened her more than anger would have.
“Mr. Russo?”
“I want to apologize.”
Norah blinked.
“Apologize?”
“For questioning you about your medical appointment.”
She had not expected that.
“I understand you have concerns about your employment,” he continued. “But if you're ill, you need proper medical care.”
Norah lowered her gaze.
“Thank you.”
“I can arrange a specialist.”
Her stomach tightened.
“That won't be necessary.”
“Norah—”
“I already have a doctor.”
Dominic studied her.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
He turned to leave.
Norah almost closed the door.
But he stopped.
“One more thing.”
She froze.
“Your coat.”
“What about it?”
“You left it in the foyer.”
“Oh.”
“One of the guards found something on the floor beside it.”
Norah's heartbeat became painfully loud.
Dominic reached into his pocket.
And withdrew a small black-and-white photograph.
The ultrasound.
Norah felt the hallway tilt beneath her feet.
Dominic held the photograph between two fingers.
“Would you like to explain this?”
She could not speak.
The tiny image seemed impossibly clear beneath the warm hallway lights.
A baby's profile.
A curved spine.
A date printed along the bottom.
Her name.
Dominic's gaze moved from the photograph to her face.
“Norah.”
She backed into the room.
He remained in the doorway.
“Whose baby is this?”
Her hand flew to her stomach.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Don't take my baby.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Dominic's expression changed.
For the first time since she had met him, he looked genuinely confused.
“Why would you think I'd do that?”
Norah shook her head.
She could not answer.
Dominic lowered the photograph.
“Are you pregnant?”
She nodded.
“How far along?”
Her lips trembled.
“Twenty-one weeks.”
Silence.
Dominic looked down at the ultrasound.
Then he looked at her again.
Something changed in his eyes.
He was calculating.
Norah could see it happening.
Twenty-one weeks.
The attack on the compound.
The safe room.
That night.
Dominic took one slow breath.
“Norah.”
She pressed her back against the wall.
His voice dropped.
“Is that my baby?”
Norah closed her eyes.
The silence that followed seemed to stretch forever.
Then she whispered the truth.
“Yes.”
Dominic did not move.
For several seconds, he simply stared at her.
Norah waited for the explosion.
For the accusation.
For him to call his security chief and order that she be confined to the mansion.
Instead, he looked down at the photograph again.
“Mine?”
She nodded.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the paper.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Norah let out a shaky breath.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
She looked toward the open bedroom door.
Toward the camera at the end of the hallway.
Toward the world Dominic had built around himself.
“Yes.”
He followed her gaze.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dominic stepped backward.
He placed the ultrasound photograph on the small table beside her door.
“I'm not taking your baby.”
Norah stared at him.
“You don't have to believe me tonight,” he said. “But I need you to understand something.”
His eyes lowered briefly toward her stomach.
“That child is not a threat to me.”
Norah swallowed.
“What about your enemies?”
Dominic's expression darkened.
“That is a different question.”
He turned and walked away.
Norah closed the door.
Then she sank onto the edge of her bed and began to cry.
Not because Dominic had threatened her.
But because he had not.
And somehow, that made everything more complicated.
Dominic did not sleep that night.
He sat alone in his study with the ultrasound photograph on his desk.
Twenty-one weeks.
He had checked the dates three times.
The timing matched.
He remembered the safe room with painful clarity.
The attack had begun shortly after midnight.
A truck had crashed through the front gates.
Gunfire had shattered the quiet.
Dominic had ordered Lily and Norah into the reinforced safe room while his men secured the property.
He had joined them minutes later with a gunshot wound grazing his shoulder.
Lily had slept through most of the ordeal.
Norah had not.
She had cleaned his wound with trembling hands.
He remembered telling her that she could leave him alone.
She had refused.
“You don't get to bleed all over the floor and tell me not to help,” she had said.
Even then, with gunfire outside, she had managed to make him smile.
Hours later, when the estate had finally fallen silent, Lily had been moved to a secure bedroom under Maria's supervision.
Norah had remained with Dominic.
He remembered the conversation.
How she had told him about growing up in a small apartment with her mother.
How she had wanted to become a teacher before medical bills forced her to abandon college.
How she had admitted that Lily reminded her of the childhood she wished she had been able to give herself.
And he remembered kissing her.
He had been the one who moved closer.
She had been the one who told him not to pretend it meant something if it didn't.
He had promised he would not.
But by morning, he had done something worse.
He had pretended it had never happened.
Now a photograph lay on his desk.
Proof that the night he had buried in silence had changed two lives.
Three, if he counted the child.
Dominic leaned back in his chair.
His daughter had spent four years growing up without her mother.
Lily's mother, Elena, had died in a car accident when Lily was only six months old.
Dominic had never forgiven himself for the circumstances surrounding that night.
He had been conducting business across the city when Elena called.
He had ignored the first call.
Then the second.
By the time he answered the third, a stranger was speaking.
For four years, Dominic had believed that protecting Lily meant controlling every detail of her life.
Every door.
Every visitor.
Every movement.
He had built a fortress around his daughter.
And now he had discovered that the woman who made Lily laugh had been living inside that fortress, terrified of him.
A quiet knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in.”
Maria entered carrying a tray of coffee.
She set it on the desk.
Her eyes fell on the ultrasound photograph.
She stopped.
Dominic noticed.
“You knew.”
Maria remained silent.
“Maria.”
The older woman sighed.
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
“Long enough to know she was frightened.”
Dominic looked away.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
Maria's expression hardened.
“Perhaps because she has seen what happens when people disappoint you.”
Dominic turned toward her.
Maria did not retreat.
She had worked for his family for twenty-eight years.
She had changed his diapers.
She had buried his mother.
She was one of the few people in the world who could speak to him without fear.
“Norah isn't one of your soldiers,” she continued. “She's a young woman carrying a child. She needs kindness, not an interrogation.”
Dominic stared at the photograph.
“I didn't threaten her.”
“No,” Maria said. “But she was afraid you would.”
The words remained with him long after she left.
The following morning, Norah woke to a knock.
She opened the door cautiously.
Maria stood outside holding a breakfast tray.
“Mr. Russo asked me to bring this.”
Norah looked at the eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and tea.
“Why?”
“Because you haven't been eating properly.”
Norah flushed.
“I'm eating.”
“Coffee and crackers do not count.”
Maria stepped inside.
She placed the tray on the dresser.
Then she turned toward Norah.
“Are you all right?”
Norah's eyes filled.
“He knows.”
Maria nodded.
“I thought he might.”
Norah sat on the bed.
“I don't know what he's going to do.”
Maria took her hand.
“Then make sure he understands what you want.”
“What if he doesn't listen?”
“Then I'll help you find someone who will.”
Norah looked up.
“You would do that?”
Maria smiled sadly.
“Sweetheart, I've watched that man build walls around himself for years. That doesn't mean I intend to let him build them around you.”
Before Norah could respond, another knock sounded.
Dominic.
Maria opened the door.
He stood outside holding a small folder.
“May I speak with Norah?”
Maria looked at Norah.
Norah nodded.
Only then did Maria leave.
Dominic remained near the doorway.
“I've arranged for you to have the rest of the week off.”
Norah stiffened.
“Am I being fired?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you need rest.”
He placed the folder on the dresser.
“There's information about a prenatal specialist. You can choose whether to see her.”
Norah looked at the folder.
“And if I don't?”
“Then you don't.”
She searched his face.
“Why are you doing this?”
Dominic took a slow breath.
“Because I should have done something five months ago.”
Norah's throat tightened.
“What?”
“Talked to you.”
He looked toward the ultrasound photograph resting beside her bed.
“I should have asked how you were after that night.”
She said nothing.
“I should have made sure you understood that your job wasn't in danger.”
Norah looked down.
“Would it have been?”
“No.”
“You don't know that.”
Dominic accepted the accusation without arguing.
“Maybe I don't,” he admitted. “But I know what I want now.”
Norah's heart began to race.
“What?”
“I want you and the baby to be safe.”
She looked at him.
“And what if being safe means leaving this house?”
Dominic went still.
For a moment, the old hardness returned to his expression.
Then he answered.
“Then we'll discuss how to make that happen.”
Norah had expected many things.
That was not one of them.
But before she could respond, Dominic's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed immediately.
“What is it?” Norah asked.
He did not answer.
He stepped into the hallway.
She heard him speak quietly.
“When?”
A pause.
“Who else has seen it?”
Another pause.
Then his voice became cold.
“Find out who accessed that camera.”
Norah moved toward the door.
Dominic turned.
Their eyes met.
And she knew that whatever had happened was connected to her.
“Dominic?”
He ended the call.
For the first time, she used his first name without thinking.
He looked at her stomach.
Then at her face.
“Someone followed you to the clinic.”