Chapter 3 - The Baby They Wanted Before It Was Born
My pregnancy had always been the most precious part of my life.
Even before I knew I was carrying a boy, I had felt protective of him.
Now I began to wonder whether someone else saw my unborn child as something valuable.
The Bellmont Account was not just money.
It was leverage.
Miriam traced the funds.
The money came from six companies.
Five were legitimate.
The sixth was not.
Its name was Salvatore Logistics.
I knew it.
Every Chicago business owner did.
Salvatore Logistics had been investigated for organized crime for years.
Dante publicly denied any connection.
Yet millions had passed through an account in my name.
I confronted him over the phone.
He answered immediately.
“Emma.”
“Why is my name on Bellmont?”
Silence.
“Who told you?”
“Answer me.”
He exhaled.
“I created that account.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
“From what?”
“From my enemies.”
“By putting illegal money under my name?”
“It isn’t illegal.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain Salvatore Logistics.”
Another silence.
“Dante.”
“I was trying to trace a leak.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone inside my organization has been stealing from me.”
“So you made me part of the investigation?”
“I was trying to keep you insulated.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You put my name on millions of dollars without telling me.”
“Because if I told you, you would become a target.”
“I’m already a target!”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I know, Emma.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said,
“Please come home.”
“No.”
“I can explain everything in person.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
The words sounded exhausted.
I hung up.
Later that evening, I had my first serious contraction.
Miriam rushed me to the local hospital.
Doctors examined me.
“False labor,” the nurse said.
I laughed weakly.
“Thank God.”
The nurse smiled.
“First baby?”
“Yes.”
“Father here?”
“No.”
She glanced at the file.
“Dante Moretti?”
My heart jumped.
“I didn’t give you that information.”
She frowned.
“It’s listed here.”
I took the chart.
Someone had added his name.
Beneath it was a notation.
High-security family.
Special protocol.
I looked at Miriam.
She understood immediately.
“We’re leaving.”
We checked out.
That night, I realized I had been tracked to the hospital.
Someone knew where I was.
Someone knew my due date.
I returned to the blue house under armed protection.
Two days later, the ocean outside my window looked peaceful.
I was making tea when the front door burst open.
Three men rushed inside.
But before they reached me, gunfire erupted outside.
Dante.
He entered through the back door.
He wore no jacket.
Blood covered one shoulder.
“Get down!”
I froze.
“You followed me.”
“Yes.”
“You promised you wouldn’t.”
“I promised I wouldn’t force you home.”
He moved toward me.
“I didn’t promise I would let someone kill you.”
My anger weakened when I saw the blood.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not badly.”
He looked at my stomach.
“Is the baby okay?”
I nodded.
His eyes softened.
For one second, he looked like the man I had married.
Then Miriam entered.
“You need to see this.”
She held up a document.
Dante read it.
His expression went cold.
“What is this?”
“A custody order.”
My hands trembled.
“Who filed it?”
“Vivian Cross.”
I stared.
“She filed for custody of my baby?”
Dante looked at me.
“I didn’t authorize this.”
“I know.”
Miriam shook her head.
“There’s more.”
She pointed to the signature.
The filing had been approved by a judge.
A judge who owed money to a company linked to Salvatore Logistics.
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“This is bigger than us.”
“Yes,” Miriam said.
I looked at my husband.
“For once, tell me the truth.”
He nodded.
“The child you’re carrying is valuable to people who want control of my organization.”
“Why?”
“Because my father left a trust.”
“What kind?”
“One that transfers controlling interests in several businesses to my direct heir.”
I stared at him.
“If we have a son?”
“Control passes to him.”
“And if the child is born?”
“People can use that trust to manipulate everything.”
I understood.
My baby wasn’t simply Dante’s heir.
He was a key to an empire.
And someone was willing to destroy my marriage to get access to him.
Dante looked at me.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought protecting you meant making decisions for you.”
“That was your mistake.”
“I know.”
His voice was quiet.
“I don’t want you to forgive me.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“I want you to survive.”
He turned toward the door.
I stopped him.
“Dante.”
He looked back.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he left.
That night, I cried.
Not because I wanted him back.
Because somewhere inside me, I still did.
May you like
But wanting someone and trusting them were two different things.
And I had learned that lesson too late.
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