Chapter 6 - The Baby He Thought He Could Take
The court granted me temporary protection.
Derek was barred from contacting me directly.
His access to the joint accounts was restricted.
An investigation into financial fraud began.
But Derek wasn't finished.
Men like him didn't surrender because a judge told them to.
He disappeared for twelve days.
During those twelve days, I learned how to breathe again.
I moved into a secure townhouse.
Vanessa moved into another property under court supervision.
Our pregnancies became the strangest bond imaginable.
Two women.
Two babies.
One terrible man.
We didn't become friends immediately.
But we stopped blaming each other.
One night, Vanessa called me crying.
“He's gone.”
“Who?”
“Derek.”
“He hasn't contacted me either.”
“That's what scares me.”
She was right.
A man who loses control often becomes most dangerous when he realizes he's losing it permanently.
Two days later, a package arrived.
No return address.
Inside was a tiny pink blanket.
And a note.
You can't hide forever.
My hands shook.
Dominic came immediately.
He looked at the package.
“Don't touch anything else.”
“The police?”
“Already coming.”
He looked around the room.
“Did anyone see the delivery?”
“No.”
Then the security system showed something strange.
The package had been delivered twenty minutes before the cameras recorded it.
Impossible.
Someone had disabled the system remotely.
Dominic stared at the screen.
“Derek.”
“How do you know?”
“He knows your house.”
The fear returned.
“What do we do?”
“We move.”
“To where?”
“Somewhere he doesn't know.”
That evening, I moved to Dominic's private estate.
I expected a mansion.
What I found was quieter.
A large house overlooking the ocean.
Security gates.
Stone walls.
Winter gardens.
But inside, it felt warm.
There were books everywhere.
Fireplaces.
Photographs.
A piano nobody used.
“You live here alone?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That seems lonely.”
He smiled faintly.
“It is.”
I looked at him.
“Why stay alone?”
“Because people close to me tend to become targets.”
I remembered his brother.
His father.
My father.
I understood.
We became closer during those weeks.
Not because of romance.
Because of fear.
We were both exhausted.
We both woke at night.
Sometimes, I would find Dominic in the kitchen at three in the morning, staring through the window.
One night he found me there.
“You should sleep.”
“I can't.”
He poured tea.
“Chamomile.”
“You remember.”
“I remember everything you say.”
I smiled.
“That's dangerous.”
“Not compared to what I've forgotten.”
We sat together.
Then my daughter kicked.
Dominic glanced at my stomach.
“Can I?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
He placed his hand gently against my belly.
The baby kicked again.
His eyes widened.
He actually smiled.
A real smile.
“I think she likes me.”
“She has questionable taste.”
He laughed.
The moment was strangely peaceful.
Then a gunshot broke the silence outside.
Dominic moved instantly.
He pulled me behind the stone counter.
Security alarms sounded.
Men shouted.
I held my stomach.
“What's happening?”
“Stay down.”
More shots.
Then silence.
A guard rushed inside.
“Sir, the east fence.”
“Anyone injured?”
“No.”
Dominic nodded.
“Lock everything.”
The guard left.
I looked at him.
“Derek?”
“Most likely.”
He looked furious.
Not afraid.
Furious.
The next morning, we learned Derek had escaped the country.
Or so everyone believed.
His private jet had left Boston.
His passport showed a flight to Europe.
But Dominic wasn't convinced.
“He wouldn't run.”
“Why not?”
“Because he still thinks he can win.”
Three days later, Dominic received a message.
A location.
Nothing else.
He showed it to me.
It was an abandoned warehouse.
I recognized the address.
“My father's old company used to own that building.”
Dominic's expression darkened.
“We're going.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I'm coming.”
“You're pregnant.”
“I am not staying here while everyone decides my life without me.”
He stared at me.
Then nodded.
We went with security.
Inside the warehouse, we found nothing at first.
Then I noticed a wall panel.
Behind it was a safe.
The combination?
My father's birthday.
Inside was a file.
Not Derek's.
My father's.
It contained everything.
Including one letter addressed to me.
I opened it.
My hands shook.
Khloe,
If you're reading this, then something went wrong.
I want you to know one thing.
I never trusted Derek.
Not because he was a bad husband.
Because he was a bad man.
I froze.
The letter continued.
He approached you because he wanted access to your inheritance.
If you married him, I feared you would be trapped.
I tried to stop it.
I failed.
I am sorry.
My tears fell.
Dominic stood beside me.
The final paragraph broke me.
There is one person I trust to protect you if I can't.
Dominic Moretti.
I looked at him.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father warned me about Derek before I ever met him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father believed Derek would kill anyone who tried to expose him.”
I closed the letter.
Then I found something beneath it.
A second document.
A paternity test.
My baby.
The father?
Derek.
I laughed bitterly.
“Why would Derek ever question this?”
Dominic frowned.
“Maybe because he planned to claim the baby wasn't yours.”
I looked at the date.
The test had been requested months earlier.
Before the gala.
Before the divorce.
Before he started calling me unstable.
Derek had known the baby was his.
He had been preparing for custody from the beginning.
Then the warehouse lights went out.
A voice echoed through the darkness.
“You finally found it.”
Derek.
I froze.
Dominic stepped in front of me.
“Come out.”
Derek laughed.
“You always were predictable, Moretti.”
Then the lights came back on.
Derek stood on the upper platform.
A gun in his hand.
And behind him—
May you like
Vanessa.
Tied to a chair.
