Chapter 7 - Shadows and SecretsThe penthouse that once felt like a golden cage was now completely under federal seizure. Alistair Vance had arranged for me to stay in a heavily guarded penthouse suite overlooking Lake Michigan—a fortress far more secure than Dante’s ever was.
Standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, watching the distant lights of the Chicago skyline twinkle over the dark water, I caressed my stomach. The morning sickness had subsided, replaced by a quiet, fierce determination.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Alistair walked in, holding two glasses of sparkling cider. He handed one to me with a polite nod.
"Word from the precinct," Alistair said, leaning against the kitchen island. "Dante’s bail hearing was denied. The judge deemed him a flight risk, largely due to the offshore asset transfers your financial documents exposed. He’s going to be sitting in Cook County jail until trial."
"Good," I murmured, sipping the cider. "He belongs there."
Alistair narrowed his eyes, studying me with professional curiosity. "You threw a grenade during your visit today. My sources in the precinct overheard you dropping a bombshell about a pregnancy."
I turned to face him, unfazed by his surveillance network. "It’s the truth."
"And the complication?" Alistair asked, his tone dropping into something more serious. "You hinted to Dante that the paternity wasn't guaranteed. Is that tactical warfare, or biological reality?"
I sighed, setting the glass down on the marble counter. "It’s both, Alistair. Because of a rare medical phenomenon called superfetation, the twins were conceived weeks apart. The first conception points to Dante on our anniversary night. The second... points to a night a month later when he trapped me in his car and begged for a second chance."
Alistair whistled softly, a mixture of amusement and respect crossing his face. "So you’re carrying twins who might have different fathers. And Dante thinks he might lose his legacy not just to the law, but to another man's bloodline."
"He doesn't know about the twins yet. He only knows there's a child, and that he might not be the father," I corrected. "And the uncertainty is driving him completely insane behind bars."
"And the second father?" Alistair asked, his gray eyes piercing into mine. "Does he exist, Lena? Or was that just a brilliant psychological weapon?"
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I didn't answer immediately. I looked out at the dark waters of Lake Michigan, a secret smile playing on my lips.
Hook: Some secrets are buried deep in the past. But in a city like Chicago, the dead have a funny way of coming back to claim what's theirs.
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