Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Regrets
The penthouse remained dimly lit as the night deepened toward dawn. Dominic had made tea—chamomile with honey, exactly as Elena had preferred during the quiet mornings when she was still his executive assistant, before affection had turned into passion, and passion into impossible complications.
Elena held the warm mug between her palms, looking at Dominic. He had discarded his jacket and tie, unbuttoning his collar. The tattoos on his throat and forearms were stark against the pale, tired skin of his neck.
""You don't know the first thing about being a father, Dominic,"" Elena said gently, her tone completely devoid of cruelty.
""I know,"" he confessed, staring down at his hands. ""My own father died in a federal penitentiary when I was twelve. My brothers were buried before they reached thirty. All I know how to do is survive, anticipate threats, and crush opposition. I don't know how to keep a child safe without building a prison around them.""
""A child doesn't need an army, Dominic. A child needs presence,"" she replied. She reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing his forearm, tracing the faded ink of an old dragon coiled around his wrist. ""When I found out I was pregnant, you were already deep in negotiations with the Vance family. You came home every night smelling of scotch, looking at surveillance feeds, talking about securing territory. I saw what our future would look like: you out fighting invisible monsters, and me raising a boy who would think love is measured in bulletproof glass and private trusts.""
""A boy?"" Dominic's breath caught. His hazel eyes widened, shining with sudden, unshed tears. ""It's... a boy?""
Elena’s lips curved into a tender, bittersweet smile. ""Yes. A boy. And he already kicks every time someone raises their voice.""
Dominic hesitated, his hand hovering inches from the soft fabric of her robe. His fingers trembled—the same hands that had signed multi-million dollar contracts and beaten rivals into submission now shook with absolute reverence.
""May I?"" he asked, his voice cracking.
Elena nodded.
May you like
Dominic placed his palm gently against the curve of her belly. For a moment, there was only the sound of their shared breathing. Then, beneath the skin, a distinct, rhythmic flutter pushed back against his palm.
A single tear escaped Dominic’s eye, tracking through the rough stubble of his cheek. He bowed his head until his forehead rested against her knee, his broad shoulders shaking in silent, long-overdue surrender.
