Chapter 7 - Coming Home
On Saturday morning, the sun shone brightly on the entrance of St. Jude’s Hospital.
Noah was pushed out in a wheelchair by Patricia Grant, the nurse who had been there since the terrifying night of his admission. He was holding a massive, stuffed T-Rex that was nearly as big as he was—a gift from Dante that had arrived via courier the previous afternoon.
Harper walked beside him, carrying a small bag of their belongings. She looked around nervously, half-expecting to see a fleet of black SUVs and men with earpieces.
Instead, there was only a single, dark blue SUV parked at the curb. The windows were tinted, but it wasn't the armored monstrosity Dante usually rode in.
The door opened, and Dante stepped out. He wore casual clothes—a dark sweater and jeans—looking less like a syndicate boss and more like a successful, ordinary businessman. He had a warm smile on his face as he walked toward them.
“Ready to go home, buddy?” Dante asked Noah, crouching down to be at eye level with the boy.
“Yes! Look at my dinosaur, Dante! I named him Barnaby,” Noah said, shaking the giant stuffed animal’s arm.
Dante laughed softly. “Barnaby is an excellent name for a king of the lizards. Let’s get him in the car.”
Dante carefully lifted Noah from the wheelchair, holding him with a gentle reverence, as if the boy were made of spun glass. He placed him into a brand-new, top-of-the-line child safety seat he had installed in the back of the SUV, adjusting the straps with meticulous care until Noah was perfectly secure.
Harper watched him, her heart softening further. “Where are we going, Dante? We can't go back to my apartment. The lease is up next week anyway, and... it’s not safe anymore.”
“I know,” Dante said, closing the rear door and turning to her. “I kept my promise, Harper. The Marcone family is gone. They will never be a threat again. But I also respected your terms. I bought a house in Willow Creek. It’s an hour outside the city, in a quiet, suburban neighborhood. Good schools, a big backyard, and absolutely no syndicate presence. The deed is in your name. It belongs to you and Noah.”
Harper stared at him, stunned. “Willow Creek? That’s... that’s beautiful country. But how can you ensure it’s safe without your men everywhere?”
“The security is integrated into the house itself,” Dante explained, opening the passenger door for her. “State-of-the-art systems, bulletproof glass, a secure perimeter fence that looks like ordinary wrought iron. No guards standing on the lawn to scare the neighbors. You will have your privacy. I will only visit when you allow it.”
Harper looked at the car, then back at the hospital where she had almost lost her son. She realized that the five years of running were finally over. Not because she had successfully hidden, but because she had stopped running from the only man who could actually protect them.
“Thank you, Dante,” she said quietly, stepping into the car.
The drive to Willow Creek was peaceful. Noah fell asleep twenty minutes into the trip, his head leaning against his giant dinosaur. Dante drove carefully, his eyes constantly checking the rearview mirror, not for tails or threats, but to watch his son breathe.
When they pulled up to the house, Harper gasped. It was a beautiful, two-story colonial home with a wrap-around porch, surrounded by mature oak trees and a lush green lawn. It looked like something out of a magazine—a perfect place for a child to grow up.
Dante carried Noah inside, placing him gently onto a pristine new bed in a bedroom that had already been decorated with a dinosaur theme—wall decals, bedding, and a shelf filled with books and toys.
As Dante turned to leave the room, Harper caught his sleeve.
May you like
“You don't have to leave right away,” she said, her voice a low murmur in the quiet house. “Noah will want to see you when he wakes up. And... I think we need to talk about how we tell him the truth.”
Dante looked down at her hand on his arm, then into her eyes. The distance that had separated them for five long years felt like it was finally evaporating. “I’d like that, Harper. I’d like that very much.”
