Chapter Seven: The Ritual
The days blurred into a strange new routine.
Emma woke each morning to find Dante already awake. Sitting in the armchair by the window. Watching her with those obsidian eyes.
Patricia would come in with breakfast. Always something nutritious. Always more food than Emma could finish.
Then there were the checkups. The monitoring. The endless waiting.
But it was the nights that undid her.
Dante had kept his promise about separate bedrooms. Sleeping in the guest room despite her presence in what had once been their shared bed.
But every night around ten o’clock, he’d appear in the doorway. Asking the same question.
“Can I stay until you fall asleep?”
And every night, she said yes.
It became their ritual.
He’d lie beside her, fully clothed. Careful not to touch her unless she reached for him first.
They’d talk in the shadows about everything and nothing.
He told her about the business deals he was managing remotely. Careful to keep the details vague.
She told him about the diner. About the regulars who came in every morning. About the life she’d built in her exile.
They didn’t talk about the future.
They existed in this suspended moment. Where the only thing that mattered was the baby growing inside her and the fragile truce between them.
Two weeks passed.
The baby grew stronger. More active.
Sometimes when a particularly hard kick woke Emma in the middle of the night, she’d find Dante already awake. His hand hovering over her belly. Asking silent permission.
She’d take his hand and place it where the movement was strongest. Watching his face transform with wonder.
“She’s strong,” he’d whisper.
“She or he. I just have a feeling.”
His thumb would trace gentle circles over her stomach.
“Strong and stubborn. Like her mother.”
It was during one of these quiet moments, three weeks into her bed rest, that everything changed.
Emma woke to raised voices outside the bedroom.
Dante’s voice, sharp with authority. And another man’s. One she didn’t recognize.
She sat up carefully, straining to hear.
“I don’t care what Salvatore says. The answer is no.”
“He’s not asking, Dante. He’s demanding.”
“You know what that means?”
“It means he’s forgotten who runs this family.”
Dante’s voice dropped to that dangerous register.
“Tell him if he has a problem with how I’m conducting business, he can come to me directly. But he stays away from her. That’s non-negotiable.”
Silence.
“Then he knows about the baby. About Emma. He’s saying it makes you weak. That you’re distracted.”
“Get out.”
Dante’s voice was ice.
“Get out. And tell Salvatore that if he or anyone else comes near my wife — near my child — they’ll answer to me personally. Do you understand?”
Footsteps. The elevator chiming. Then silence.
The bedroom door opened slowly.
Dante stood there. And Emma could see the tension radiating from him. The barely controlled fury in his eyes.
“How much did you hear?” he asked.
“Enough. Who’s Salvatore?”
He exhaled slowly. Running a hand through his hair.
“My uncle. My father’s brother. He’s been unhappy with some of my recent decisions.”
“Decisions like taking time away from business to take care of me?”
“Decisions like refusing to expand into territories that would require methods I’m not willing to use.”
He came into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“He thinks I’ve gone soft. That having a family makes me vulnerable.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Emma asked quietly.
“You just said I’m a target. The baby is a target. How is that not a weakness?”
“It’s not a weakness. It’s a line in the sand.”
His hand found hers.
“Before you, I had nothing to lose. That made me reckless. Dangerous in ways that even I didn’t fully understand. But now—”
He squeezed her fingers gently.
“Now I have everything to lose. That doesn’t make me weak. It makes me lethal. Because there is nothing I won’t do to protect you both.”
The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
This was the man people feared. The one who controlled an empire through force and will.
But it was also the man who brought her water in the middle of the night. Who read pregnancy books with sticky notes marking important passages. Who talked to her belly when he thought she was asleep.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Not of you. Of this world you live in. Of raising a child surrounded by danger.”
“I know.”
He shifted closer. His free hand moving to rest on her belly.
“I’ve been thinking about that. About what comes after.”
“After?”
“After the baby is born. After you’ve recovered.”
He took a breath.
“I want us to leave.”
Emma stared at him.
“Leave? What do you mean?”
“Leave the city. Leave this life. At least the visible parts of it.”
His words came faster now. Like he’d been holding them in for too long.
“I’ve been setting things up. Antonio can run the day-to-day operations. I can manage the rest remotely. We could go somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. Raise our child away from—”
He gestured vaguely.
“All of this.”
“You’d do that? Just walk away?”
“For you?”
He looked at her. And the intensity there took her breath away.
“Anything. For you.”
His eyes met hers.
“I know I can’t erase what I am, Emma. I know I can’t undo the things I’ve done. But I can choose what comes next. And I choose you. I choose our baby. I choose a life where my child doesn’t have to grow up afraid.”
Tears pricked her eyes.
“Dante—”
“You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it. Please.”
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She rarely got calls anymore. Her old life had faded into memory. And she had no one left who would reach out.
So when she saw the number, her stomach dropped.
The diner.
“Hello? Emma. It’s Gary.”
Her old boss’s voice was tight with worry.
“Listen, I don’t want to alarm you. But there were some men here today. Asking about you.”
Emma’s blood ran cold.
“What kind of men?”
“The kind that make people nervous. They wanted to know where you lived. When you worked last. If you’d mentioned anything about where you were going.”
He paused.
“Emma. What kind of trouble are you in?”
Dante was already on his feet. His expression dark.
He held out his hand for the phone.
Emma gave it to him without question.
