Chapter 2 - The Gathering Storm

The storm that had started the day before had returned to Chicago with a vengeance. Thunder rattled the thick glass of Cameron’s penthouse.

Simone was in the guest bedroom, which Cameron had miraculously transformed into a sanctuary overnight. The fridge was stocked with her favorite foods, a premium maternity mattress had been delivered that morning, and he had even hired a private nurse to remain on call in the building, just in case her stress triggered early labor.

Simone was standing by the window, watching the lightning strike over the dark water of the lake, when the penthouse security alarm suddenly chimed—a harsh, electronic beep indicating a breach in the private elevator lobby.

In the living room, Cameron, who had been reviewing legal documents with Gabrielle, stood up instantly. His instincts flared.

The heavy mahogany door of the penthouse rattled violently, and then burst open. Derek stumbled in, completely soaked by the rain, his eyes wild and bloodshot. He had clearly bribed or fought his way past the lobby concierge.

“Simone!” Derek yelled, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Simone, get out here!”

Before Derek could take three steps into the living room, Cameron was on him.

Cameron moved with terrifying speed. He grabbed Derek by the lapels of his wet jacket, slamming his younger brother backward into the steel doors of the elevator. The impact knocked the wind out of Derek with a sickening thud.

“Give me one good reason,” Cameron snarled, his forearm pressed against Derek’s throat, “why I shouldn’t throw you off this balcony.”

Gabrielle stood up, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling the police. This is breaking and entering.”

“Cam, let me go!” Derek choked out, struggling weakly against his brother’s immense strength. “I need to talk to my wife! She’s my wife!”

Simone appeared in the hallway, her hand instinctively resting on her swollen belly. Seeing Derek—the man she had once loved, now reduced to a frantic, violent mess—sent a spike of pure adrenaline and terror through her system.

“I have nothing to say to you, Derek,” Simone said, her voice remarkably steady despite the fear in her chest.

Derek looked past Cameron’s shoulder, his eyes pleading, manic. “Simone, please! You have to fix this! Call off the lawyers. Do an interview. Tell them it was a misunderstanding, that it was my hormones, I don’t care! They’re taking everything from me!”

“You took everything from yourself,” Simone replied coldly. “You stood there while she hurt me. You stood there while she threatened your child.”

“It was just hair pulling!” Derek screamed, losing all pretense of apology. “You’re fine! Stop being so dramatic and save my life!”

The sheer audacity of his words hung in the air.

Cameron’s eyes went completely black. He didn’t yell. He didn’t scream. He simply pulled back his right fist and drove it into Derek’s jaw with the force of a freight train.

Derek collapsed to the marble floor like a ragdoll, completely unconscious.

Cameron stood over him, breathing heavily, rubbing his bruised knuckles. “Trash,” he spat.

“Police are on their way,” Gabrielle announced smoothly, entirely unbothered by the violence she had just witnessed. In fact, she looked quite satisfied.

Suddenly, a sharp, ragged gasp tore through the room.

Cameron and Gabrielle both whipped around. Simone was leaning heavily against the wall, her face pale, both hands clutching the bottom of her belly. Water pooled on the hardwood floor beneath her feet.

“Simone?” Gabrielle rushed forward.

“It hurts,” Simone gasped, her knees buckling. “Oh, God, it’s too early. She’s not due for another five weeks. It hurts so much.”

The stress, the confrontation, the adrenaline—it had triggered premature labor.

Cameron didn’t hesitate. He stepped over his unconscious brother, swept Simone into his arms as easily as if she weighed nothing, and looked at Gabrielle.