Chapter 5 - THE REVELATION
We drove for four hours straight into the frozen wilderness of the north woods. Dominic didn't speak. He just cleaned his weapon, his face set in a mask of pure rage. I sat in the corner of the backseat, shivering, clutching my bag to my chest.
By sunrise, we arrived at a massive, isolated log cabin surrounded by towering pines and heavy snow. The guards secured the perimeter, leaving Dominic and me alone in the expansive living room. The silence was heavier than the gunfire had been.
"You're safe here," Dominic finally said, tossing his gun onto the rustic wooden table. He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking exhausted. "No one knows about this place."
"Safe?" I choked out, the adrenaline finally crashing. "People were shooting at us, Dominic! They were trying to kill us!"
"They were trying to kill me," he corrected, his eyes locking onto mine. "And they failed. I promise you, Claire, I won't let anything happen to you."
"You can't promise that!" I yelled, my emotions finally boiling over. The exhaustion, the fear, the pregnancy hormones—it all exploded. "You live in a world of blood and death! I can't be in this world, Dominic! I can't have this around me! I can't have this around..."
I stopped myself, my eyes widening.
Dominic froze. His gaze narrowed, analyzing my slip of the tongue. "Around what, Claire?"
My breath came in shallow gasps. I looked at my bag. I looked at the man who commanded armies of killers. My secret was choking me, and in that moment, I knew I couldn't carry it alone anymore. My trembling hands opened the zipper of my bag. I pulled out the manila envelope.
I took out the small, black-and-white printout. My hand was shaking so badly I couldn't hold onto it.
The ultrasound slipped from my hand and skidded across the hardwood floor until it stopped against Dominic Moretti’s polished black shoe.
He looked down.
Then he looked at the date printed in the corner.
Then he looked at me.
And for the first time since I had met the most feared man in Chicago, Dominic Moretti looked shaken.
"Claire," he said, his voice low and dangerous and strangled all at once. "This was the night of the gala."
May you like
"Yes," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around myself. "I'm pregnant, Dominic. It's yours."
The room went dead silent. The ruthless mafia boss stared at the tiny image of a twelve-week-old fetus like the earth had just opened up and swallowed him whole.
