Chapter 7 - The Tribeca Sanctuary
The private medical suite installed on the top floor of the Tribeca penthouse looked less like a hospital room and more like a luxury sanctuary overlooking the glittering lights of Manhattan.
For three days, Dominic had refused to leave the room. He sat in a leather armchair beside Amelia’s bed, reviewing pediatric reports, interviewing private obstetricians who had been vetted under threat of death, and watching over her with the fierce, unyielding vigilance of a dragon guarding its hoard.
Amelia propped herself up on a stack of silk pillows, watching him from beneath heavy, tired eyelids. She had finally stopped shaking. The terror of the bank vault had begun to fade, replaced by the warm, grounding reality of the penthouse sanctuary.
“You’re exhausting yourself, Dominic,” she said softly, breaking the quiet hum of the room’s air filtration system. “The doctor said the babies are perfectly healthy. I am perfectly healthy. You don't need to stare at me like I’m going to dissolve into thin air.”
Dominic looked up from his tablet. His dark eyes were shadowed with fatigue, but they softened instantly when they met hers.
“Babies,” Dominic repeated, a faint, rare smile touching the corner of his lips. “Plural. The OB’s scan confirmed twins yesterday afternoon. Which means my security perimeter around this penthouse is currently inadequate.”
Amelia rolled her eyes, though a small, fond smile tugged at her lips. “Are you planning to install surface-to-air missiles on the balcony for our sons or daughters, Mr. Castellano?”
“Only if necessary,” he replied deadpan, standing up and walking over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, his large hand gently resting over her swollen stomach.
Beneath his palm, a tiny, energetic kick answered him.
Dominic’s breath hitched. For all his power, for all the billions of dollars he commanded, for all the fear he inspired across the Eastern Seaboard, this simple, miraculous movement inside her was the only thing that ever truly humbled him.
“Why did you come back to Manhattan, Amelia?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching her face. “After I told you to go to Seattle. After I gave you everything you needed to disappear.”
Amelia’s smile faded, replaced by a quiet, fierce resolve. She reached out, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
“Because disappearing from you wasn't saving my life, Dominic,” she whispered. “It was just dying slowly in a place where nobody knew my name. I didn't want my children to grow up hiding from a ghost. And more importantly... I knew you were hiding behind those walls just as much as you thought I was.”
Dominic leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as the last remnants of his solitary ice melted away.
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“I was terrified,” he confessed, the admission costing him more than any confession ever had. “Loving you... it made me weak. It gave my enemies a handle to turn.”
“No,” Amelia corrected gently, her hand resting over his heart. “It didn't make you weak. It made you real. And now, we face them together.”
