Chapter 9 - THE FAMILY
Six Months Later.
The autumn breeze carried the scent of pine and saltwater through the open French doors of the estate.
It was a different house. A different state. Dominic had kept his promise. After the night of the purge, he had handed the daily operations of the syndicate over to a council of lieutenants and moved his family to a heavily fortified, sprawling property on the coast of Maine.
Norah stood on the back patio, wearing a soft, fitted cashmere sweater. She wasn't hiding anymore.
She looked down at the baby in her arms.
Leo Russo. Three months old. He had a shock of dark hair and Dominic’s intense gray eyes. He was perfect. He was healthy. He was a miracle they had fought a war to keep.
“He’s asleep again?”
Norah turned. Dominic leaned against the doorframe, holding two mugs of coffee. He wore a simple gray t-shirt and jeans. The deep scar on his ribs was hidden, but the softness in his posture was undeniable.
“He fights it, but he always loses,” Norah smiled, gently rocking the baby.
Dominic walked over, setting the mugs on the patio table. He wrapped his arms around Norah from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as he looked down at his son.
“He looks like you,” Dominic murmured, kissing her cheek.
“He has your temper,” Norah countered, leaning back against the solid warmth of his chest.
From the lawn below, Lily’s bright laughter rang out. She was running across the grass, chasing a golden retriever puppy Dominic had bought her for her fifth birthday.
“Lily!” Norah called out. “Don’t go past the oak tree!”
“I won’t, Mom!” Lily shouted back, waving happily.
Norah’s heart swelled. Mom. It had taken a few weeks for Lily to try the word, and now she said it with absolute, unshakeable confidence.
Dominic tightened his arms around Norah.
“I finalized the trust documents today,” Dominic said quietly. “The syndicate money is washed. It’s clean. It goes into a legitimate holding company in Leo and Lily’s names. They will never have to know the violence it took to build it.”
Norah turned in his arms, looking up at him.
The paranoid, cold cartel boss was gone. In his place was a father. A partner. A man who had burned his own world down to ensure she was safe.
Dominic reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small, familiar object and placed it in Norah’s hand.
It was the black-and-white ultrasound picture. It was slightly wrinkled from being carried in his wallet for six months.
“I keep this to remind myself,” Dominic said softly.
“Remind yourself of what?”
“That the strongest person I have ever met wore a thrift-store sweater and stared down an army for my bloodline.”
He cupped her face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that escaped her eye. He leaned down and kissed her—a slow, deep, promise of a kiss.
When he pulled back, he smiled. A real, genuine smile.
“You’re not the nanny anymore, Norah,” he whispered. “You’re the queen.”
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Norah looked out over the lawn, at her daughter playing in the sun, at her son sleeping safely against her chest, and at the man who had given her a family.
She finally felt warm.
