Chapter 1 - Twenty-Nine Weeks
Kate screamed and clutched the sheets.
“Don’t let my baby die!”
Luciano Aruri appeared in the doorway with a leather case in his hand.
A cream-colored divorce agreement showed through the broken clasp.
Beside his signature was a date.
It was seven months old.
Luciano suddenly realized the marriage had not ended when he thought it had.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then the midwife snapped, “If you’re going to stand there, stand somewhere useful.”
Luciano had faced men with guns pointed at his chest without blinking. He had walked into warehouses knowing someone inside had been paid to kill him. He had buried friends, enemies, and one brother.
Nothing had prepared him for his wife screaming his name from a bed he had not slept in for seven months.
Kate’s dark hair clung to her damp face.
Her white nightgown was twisted beneath the blankets. One hand gripped the sheet. The other protected the curve of her stomach as though she could physically hold the baby inside.
Luciano looked at that stomach again.
Twenty-nine weeks.
The number would not leave him.
He had departed for Europe almost exactly seven months earlier.
There had been one final night before he left.
One night when anger had broken into something else.
One night neither of them had discussed afterward.
His throat tightened.
“Is it mine?”
The instant the words escaped him, he wanted them back.
Kate stopped looking frightened.
She looked wounded.
The midwife turned on him.
“If you intend to upset my patient, get out.”
Kate gave a weak laugh.
“My patient.”
Her eyes found Luciano.
“That's what I am now. A patient. Convenient, isn't it?”
“Kate.”
“You came with divorce papers.”
Another contraction seized her.
She gasped.
Luciano crossed the room before she could object.
Kate pushed at his hand.
“Don't touch me.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“You already left.”
The words stopped him.
The older midwife, Margaret Hale, watched the exchange while checking Kate’s pulse.
“Contractions are too close,” she said to one of the nurses. “Call Dr. Bennett again. Tell him I don't care about the roads. I need him here.”
Luciano looked toward the windows.
“Why isn't she at a hospital?”
Kate laughed again, but this time pain swallowed the sound.
Margaret answered. “Because your wife refused to go.”
Luciano stared at Kate.
“Why?”
“No.”
“Kate.”
“I said no.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flashed.
“Because the last time someone entered my hospital records, I almost lost this baby.”
Silence.
Luciano slowly straightened.
“What did you say?”
Kate closed her eyes.
Margaret looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Aruri—”
“What happened?”
“Not now,” Kate whispered.
Luciano’s voice dropped.
That was the voice people feared.
“Tell me.”
Kate opened her eyes.
For the first time since he entered, something other than anger appeared there.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Someone changed my medication.”
Luciano went still.
“What medication?”
“Something my obstetrician prescribed after I started bleeding at eighteen weeks. The bottle was replaced.”
“With what?”
“I don't know.”
“Who had access?”
“I don't know.”
“You should have called me.”
“I did.”
Luciano stared at her.
Kate’s expression hardened.
“I called you eleven times.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I never received a call.”
“I left messages.”
“I received nothing.”
“I emailed.”
“Nothing.”
“I sent a letter to Milan.”
Luciano shook his head.
“No letter came.”
Kate studied his face.
For the first time, doubt entered hers.
Margaret interrupted.
“Whatever happened seven months ago can wait. This baby cannot.”
Another contraction hit.
Kate cried out.
Luciano instinctively reached for her.
This time, she did not push him away.
She grabbed his wrist.
Hard.
He stood beside the bed while Margaret counted.
“Breathe.”
Kate tried.
“Slowly.”
“I can't.”
“Yes, you can.”
Luciano lowered himself beside her.
“Look at me.”
Kate shook her head.
“Kate.”
She looked.
“Breathe with me.”
His voice was different now.
Not the voice of Luciano Aruri, the man whose surname opened doors and closed mouths.
It was the voice she remembered from years ago.
Before the money became dangerous.
Before loyalty became surveillance.
Before their marriage turned into a battlefield made of unanswered questions.
Luciano inhaled slowly.
Kate followed.
Again.
Her grip loosened.
The contraction passed.
Margaret checked her.
Then her expression changed.
Luciano saw it immediately.
“What?”
“We need more time.”
“How much?”
“A lot more than we may have.”
Kate whispered, “Is he okay?”
He.
Luciano looked at her.
“You know?”
Kate immediately realized what she had revealed.
Margaret answered before she could.
“Yes. He's still doing well.”
Luciano stared at his wife.
“A boy?”
Kate turned her face away.
“You weren't supposed to know.”
Something inside him cracked.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Grief for months he had not known existed.
“You were going to have my son without telling me?”
“I tried to tell you.”
“You could have come to me.”
“Where? Milan? Zurich? Marseille? Which hotel, Luciano? Which armed gate? Which one of your men should I have begged to let your pregnant wife through?”
“You know that's not fair.”
“Fair?”
Her voice rose.
Margaret warned her to stay calm.
Kate ignored her.
“I found out I was pregnant twelve days after you left. I called. Your number had changed. I called the office. They told me you had ordered them not to put me through.”
“I gave no such order.”
“I emailed.”
“I saw nothing.”
“I sent the ultrasound.”
Luciano stopped.
“What ultrasound?”
“The first one.”
“I never received it.”
Kate stared at him.
Something changed between them.
Seven months of certainty began developing cracks.
Luciano stood.
“Who manages my communications?”
Kate looked at him as if the answer should be obvious.
“Marco.”
Luciano’s expression became unreadable.
Marco Bellini had been beside him for fifteen years.
Friend.
Advisor.
Security chief.
The man who had personally told Luciano that Kate wanted no contact.
Luciano remembered the conversation in Milan.
She wants the separation finalized.
She doesn't want you calling.
Give her what she asked for.
Had Marco lied?
Luciano turned toward the doorway.
The leather case still lay beside it.
He had dropped it when Kate screamed.
The clasp had opened.
Cream-colored documents protruded from one side.
Kate saw him looking.
“So sign them.”
He did not move.
“That's why you're here, isn't it?”
Luciano looked at her.
“Yes.”
Pain flickered across her face.
He hated himself for seeing it.
“But I didn't know.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly to be calculated.
Kate stared.
Luciano crossed to the case.
He picked it up.
The documents slipped farther out.
Something else fell.
A white envelope.
Luciano frowned.
He had not placed an envelope inside.
It landed faceup.
Kate’s breathing stopped.
Her name was written across it.
KATHERINE ARURI.
Luciano bent down.
“Don't.”
Kate's voice was suddenly sharp.
He looked at her.
She was staring at the envelope.
“What?”
“I've seen that handwriting.”
“Whose?”
Kate swallowed.
“That's the handwriting on the note that came with the bottle.”
Luciano slowly picked it up.
The envelope had been inside his private case.
A case that had remained locked in his SUV from New York to Hawthorne Ridge.
Only three people had access to that vehicle.
Luciano.
His driver.
And Marco.
He tore open the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Kate in the garden.
Pregnant.
Taken from a distance.
On the back were six words.
HE SHOULD NEVER HAVE COME HOME.
Luciano’s face changed.
“Lock the house.”
His driver appeared behind him.
“Boss?”
“Nobody leaves.”
Margaret stared.
“What is happening?”
Luciano turned the photograph over again.
There was something beneath the sentence.
A number.
Kate saw it.
Her face drained of color.
“Luciano.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“I've seen that number before.”
“Where?”
She pointed toward the antique desk across the room.
“The morning I found out someone changed my medication, there was a note in that drawer.”
Luciano crossed the room.
He pulled it open.
Empty.
“It's gone.”
“No.”
“It was there.”
“What did it say?”
Kate stared at the open drawer.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Twenty-nine weeks.”
Luciano slowly turned toward her.
The pregnancy had not merely been discovered.
Someone had been counting it.
Margaret stepped backward.
One of the nurses stopped folding towels.
Then footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Slow.
Heavy.
Coming toward the bedroom.
Luciano reached inside his coat.
The door handle moved.
May you like
And a familiar voice outside said, “Luciano, we need to talk.”
It was Marco.
