Dr. Mercer looked down at the ultrasound monitor, her fingers moving with practiced ease over the trackball. The quiet hum of the machine filled the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic, heavy breathing of Dorian Cross standing near the door. He hadn't sat down once. His tall frame cast a long, imposing shadow across the sterile room, hand resting near the button of his suit jacket—a posture born of years of constant vigilance.

The heavy iron gates of the Cross estate in Lake Forest swept open with a mechanical groan, swallowing the black SUV into a sanctuary of high stone walls, private security checkpoints, and towering pine trees. Six months ago, this house had been my sanctuary. Today, it felt like a magnificent, impenetrable tomb.

Dorian stepped out of the vehicle first, refusing to let the guards open my door. He held out his hand to me. I ignored it, stepping down on my own, though my knees wobbled slightly from exhaustion. He didn't argue; he simply positioned his body between me and the open driveway, his dark eyes scanning the tree line with frantic, hyper-aware precision.

"Noah," Dorian called out to his second-in-command, a scarred man who had served his family for a decade. "Triplicate the perimeter guards. No external deliveries. Scan every vehicle that crosses the outer gate twice."

"Understood, boss," Noah replied, nodding sternly. "The safehouse in Geneva is also prepared if we need to move."

"We stay here for now," Dorian said, placing a firm, warm palm against the small of my back to guide me through the grand mahogany doors. "She needs comfort, not a bunker."

Inside, the grand entrance hall was exactly as I had left it three months ago when I packed my single suitcase and moved into a rented flat downtown. My favorite oil painting remained above the fireplace. The crystal vase I had bought in Florence sat on the foyer table, filled with fresh white roses—never lilies.

He had kept everything exactly the same.

"Why, Dorian?" I demanded, turning to face him as the heavy doors slammed shut behind us, locking out the world. "If there was a threat, why didn't you tell me? Why let me spend six months thinking you grew tired of me? Why let me believe you were sleeping with your associates, or that I was just a temporary distraction you were ready to discard?"

Dorian unbuttoned his coat, tossing it carelessly onto a leather armchair—a rare display of agitation from a man who demanded absolute perfection in everything.

"Because you are a terrible liar, Alina," he said softly, walking over to the bar and pouring a glass of amber liquid, only to pause, look at it, and set it down untouched. "You wear your heart on your sleeve. If you had known that the Valenti syndicate had placed a mole inside my organization, if you had known that every breath you took in this house was being monitored, you would have looked terrified. You would have given it away."

"So you broke my heart to save my life?" I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "That is the most arrogant, selfish logic—"

"It kept you alive!" Dorian snapped, turning around, his fists clenched at his sides. The control he so meticulously maintained was cracking, revealing the raw, jagged edges underneath. "Victor Valenti wanted to bleed me. He knew the only way to destroy Dorian Cross was to take the woman who made him human. If I made him believe I didn't care about you anymore—if I made the entire city believe I was divorcing you because you were worthless to me—the target disappeared from your back."

He took three long strides toward me, closing the distance until I could feel the intense heat radiating from his chest.

"I spent six months dying every single day watching you walk out of my life," he whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion I had never heard in him before. "I spent six months watching my men report that you were living in a tiny apartment, eating takeout, crying yourself to sleep. Do you have any idea what it took for me not to tear down this whole city just to go to you?"

Before I could answer, a sudden, sharp knock echoed from the front foyer. Noah stepped inside, his expression grim.

"Boss," Noah said quietly. "Valenti just called a emergency council meeting of the five families for tonight. He knows you pulled Mrs. Cross from the lawyer's office. He knows the divorce wasn't signed."