Chapter 2 – TWO HEARTBEATS IN THE DARK

“Babies?” Dante repeated.

He had faced prosecutors, rival crews, and men who carried guns into meetings disguised as peace negotiations. None of them had ever made his knees feel uncertain. But the woman in the hospital bed was wearing a housekeeper’s uniform instead of the cream maternity dress he remembered buying her, and the doctor had used a word that changed the shape of everything.

Dr. Lena Shah checked the monitor beside Emily’s bed. “Your wife is carrying twins, Mr. Russo. Two babies. We’re watching both heart rates closely.”

Dante looked at Emily. She was awake, though exhausted, one hand spread protectively across her stomach. A purple imprint curved around her wrist. Her hair had slipped from its loose braid. She did not meet his eyes.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

Emily gave a small, unbelieving laugh. “Since the anatomy scan.”

“When was that?”

“Four months ago.”

He searched his memory for an appointment invitation, an image, a conversation. He remembered signing a distribution agreement that afternoon. He remembered Vanessa bringing him coffee. He did not remember coming home until midnight.

“I didn’t know,” he said.

“I know,” Emily answered. “That was the problem.”

Dr. Shah stepped between them, not physically but with the firm voice of someone used to protecting patients from arguments at the worst possible moment. “Mrs. Russo has experienced a fall and abdominal trauma. We are monitoring for bleeding and signs of placental complications, as well as preterm labor. The babies’ heart rates are reassuring at the moment, but that can change. I need a calm room.”

Dante nodded. “Give her whatever she needs. Private floor, best equipment, whatever it costs.”

“What she needs,” Dr. Shah said, “is medical care and control over who stays in this room. Money does not change the treatment plan.”

It was the first time in years someone had said no to him without checking the door. He realized he respected her for it.

“Emily?” the doctor asked. “Do you want Mr. Russo to remain?”

Emily looked at the wall. Dante waited for her to say yes because he had always mistaken silence for permission.

“For five minutes,” she said. “Then I need to rest.”

The doctor nodded and left them with a nurse named Priya, who adjusted a sensor before stepping into the adjoining station.

Dante moved toward the bed. Emily flinched. He stopped where he was.

“What happened at the house?” he asked.

“Vanessa said you signed divorce papers. She said you were taking my children after delivery.”

“I never signed divorce papers.”

“She showed me your signature.”

“It was forged.”

“You don’t know that yet.”

He hated how reasonable her answer was. Three months earlier, he would have expected Emily to believe him without evidence. Six months of watching Vanessa sit at his table, answer his calls, and wear his wife’s diamonds had made that expectation ridiculous.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asked, nodding toward the uniform.

“Because Vanessa told the staff I was supposed to help with the Christmas charity luncheon. She said guests shouldn’t see the owner’s pregnant wife wandering around in slippers.”

“That’s absurd.”

“She told me you approved it.”

“I did not.”

“Then why did everyone believe her?” Emily finally turned her head. “Why did she have your household codes? Why did she sit in your chair at breakfast? Why did she decide when I could use our car?”

Dante could have listed every reason: schedules, security, travel, the endless logistics of his business. None answered what she had asked.

“Because I gave her authority,” he said.

“Exactly.”

A contraction tightened across Emily’s face. She drew a breath through her teeth and gripped the blanket. Dante instinctively reached out, then remembered that she had pulled away from him. He called for Priya instead.

The nurse came immediately, checked the tracing, and reassured Emily as the pain eased. The moment passed, but its warning remained.

“Did she push you?” Dante asked quietly.

“Vincent tried to take my phone. Vanessa grabbed my wrist. I stepped back and fell.” Emily looked down at her hand. “I kept thinking that if I could just get to the car, I could get here before anything happened.”

“Why didn’t Tomas drive you?” Tomas had worked for the family for twelve years. He would have driven Emily through a wall if she asked.

“Vanessa took the keys. She told him you’d ordered no unnecessary trips.”

“I never said that.”

“Dante, you keep saying what you never did. I need you to understand what you allowed.”

It took him a moment to answer. “You’re right.”

The words came out small. For a man accustomed to making promises that filled rooms, they sounded almost useless.