Chapter 10 - The Romano Heir
The complication was restricted fetal growth.
The baby was smaller than expected.
Chloe’s preeclampsia had affected blood flow through the placenta.
“We may have days,” the doctor said. “Possibly weeks. But not months.”
Arthur listened to every word.
“When do you deliver?”
“When remaining inside becomes more dangerous than being born early.”
Chloe squeezed his hand.
“Can the baby survive?”
“At thirty-one weeks, outcomes are often good with neonatal care.”
Often.
Arthur hated that word.
For the next six days, his world became one hospital room.
Business came to him.
Marco handled security.
Luca and Isabella turned Daniel’s evidence over to federal investigators.
Harrison Croft was charged.
Michael Russo disappeared into federal custody.
Vivian stayed with Amelia.
And Arthur learned about blood-pressure cuffs, fetal monitors, steroid injections and tiny premature diapers.
Chloe watched him reading neonatal care articles at three in the morning.
“You look ridiculous.”
“I’m studying.”
“You threatened a cardiologist yesterday.”
“He was vague.”
“He said my test was reassuring.”
“What does reassuring mean?”
“It means reassuring.”
“It lacks precision.”
Chloe laughed.
Arthur looked at her.
He had missed that sound.
“I want to name the baby Thomas if it’s a boy.”
Chloe’s expression softened.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And if it’s a girl?”
Arthur thought.
“Grace.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve needed some.”
She smiled.
“Grace Thomasina Romano sounds terrible.”
“Agreed.”
“Grace Henderson.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Chloe waited.
He nodded.
“Henderson.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Your father earned that name more than mine did.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“You’re changing.”
“I’m trying.”
On the seventh morning, Chloe’s blood pressure became uncontrollable.
Doctors entered quickly.
Arthur knew before anyone said it.
“Today?”
The obstetrician nodded.
“We need to deliver.”
Chloe looked terrified.
Arthur moved beside her.
“I’m here.”
“What if—”
“No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
“What if something happens?”
“We deal with what happens. Not what fear invents.”
She stared.
“That was annoyingly wise.”
“I stole it from your father’s letter.”
They prepared for surgery.
Arthur wore scrubs.
He sat beside Chloe’s head.
She trembled.
“Arthur.”
“I’m here.”
“Don’t let them take the baby somewhere without you.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“If the baby needs you—”
“Chloe.”
“Promise.”
He understood.
“I promise.”
Minutes later, a tiny cry filled the operating room.
Arthur stopped breathing.
The doctor smiled.
“It’s a girl.”
Chloe began sobbing.
Arthur did too.
He didn’t care who saw.
The baby weighed three pounds, eleven ounces.
Tiny.
Furious.
Alive.
They showed her briefly to Chloe before the neonatal team moved her.
Arthur touched one miniature hand.
Her fingers closed around one of his.
Everything he had believed mattered before that moment became very small.
“Grace,” Chloe whispered.
Arthur looked at her.
“Grace Henderson.”
He kissed Chloe’s forehead.
“Grace Henderson.”
The baby was taken to the NICU.
Arthur remained until Chloe was stable.
Then he went to Grace.
Hours later, he returned with photographs.
Chloe stared at each one.
“She has your frown.”
“She’s six hours old.”
“Exactly.”
Arthur sat.
“I love you.”
Chloe looked up.
He didn’t take it back.
“I’m not saying it because you almost died. I’m not asking you to answer. I should have said it before I disappeared.”
Her eyes filled.
“I love you.”
Chloe touched his face.
“I love you too.”
He closed his eyes.
“But,” she added.
He opened them.
“You don’t get everything back immediately.”
“I know.”
“We build it.”
“Yes.”
“No disappearing.”
“Never.”
“No deciding what’s best for me without me.”
“Yes.”
“No poisoning at future weddings.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“That seems reasonable.”
Three days later, Chloe was wheeled into the NICU.
She and Arthur sat beside Grace.
For once, nobody was running.
Nobody was shooting.
Nobody was lying.
Then Marco entered.
His face ruined the moment.
“What?”
Arthur asked.
“Michael Russo never reached federal detention.”
Arthur stood.
“How?”
“The transport was attacked.”
Chloe’s stomach dropped.
Marco placed a photograph on the table.
Michael stood outside the hospital.
It had been taken ten minutes earlier.
Written across it:
ONE ROMANO HEIR DIED SIX YEARS AGO.
TONIGHT I FINISH THE SECOND.
Arthur looked through the NICU glass.
May you like
Grace’s incubator was empty.
And the nurse assigned to her was gone.
