Chapter 4 - The First Time He Held His Daughter
Vincent Moretti had held guns, signed contracts worth hundreds of millions, and shaken hands with men who could order a killing without changing their expressions.
But when Rachel Kim placed his newborn daughter into his arms, he looked terrified.
"Support her head," Rachel instructed.
"I am."
"Your other hand, Vincent."
He adjusted his grip.
Grace made a tiny noise.
Vincent immediately looked toward Emily.
"Is she all right?"
Emily stood near the window of Rachel's private conference room.
"She's fine."
"She sounds uncomfortable."
"She's a newborn. She makes noises."
Vincent looked down again.
Grace was wrapped in a pale yellow blanket, her small face resting against his chest.
He had imagined this moment constantly since discovering her birth.
He'd imagined feeling proud.
Protective.
Overwhelmed.
He hadn't expected the grief.
Because he could hold his daughter now, but he could never hold her for the first time again.
He couldn't return to the delivery room.
He couldn't wipe the sweat from Emily's forehead.
He couldn't hear Grace's first cry.
Those moments belonged to the people who had actually been there.
Vincent's throat tightened.
"Hello, Grace."
The baby moved one hand.
He smiled despite himself.
"I'm your father."
Emily looked away.
She hadn't wanted to attend the visit.
Rachel had suggested that they use a neutral location until proper parenting arrangements could be established.
Vincent had agreed to every condition.
No bodyguards inside the building.
No unannounced visits.
No photographs without Emily's permission.
No discussions about reconciliation during time with Grace.
Emily appreciated that he'd accepted the boundaries.
But appreciation wasn't forgiveness.
She watched him carefully.
Vincent wore a dark sweater rather than his usual tailored suit.
He looked exhausted.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
His hair was slightly disheveled.
For the first time since she'd met him, he looked like a man who hadn't slept because the world had become too much to manage.
Good, a small bitter part of her thought.
Then she hated herself for thinking it.
Grace shifted in his arms.
Vincent gently touched her cheek.
"She's so small."
Emily nodded.
"Six pounds, eleven ounces when she was born."
He looked up.
"You remember everything."
"Of course."
"Does she sleep much?"
"Usually in short stretches."
"Does she eat well?"
"Yes."
"Has she been checked by the pediatrician?"
"Twice. She's healthy."
He looked down.
"Thank God."
Emily folded her arms.
Vincent studied his daughter's face.
"She looks like you."
Emily almost laughed.
"Everyone says she looks like you."
"Then everyone is wrong."
For one brief moment, the old Vincent appeared.
The man who could make her smile over breakfast.
The man who used to kiss the top of her head when she fell asleep reading.
The man she had loved before Sophia's shadow swallowed their marriage.
Then reality returned.
Vincent looked at Emily.
"Rachel told me you had complications."
Emily's expression closed.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me afterward?"
She stared at him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Emily answered.
"Because I had already spent the entire night trying to tell you."
Vincent lowered his eyes.
"I know."
"No, Vincent. You know now."
Her voice remained quiet.
"There's a difference."
He swallowed.
"I should have been there."
"Yes."
"I should never have gone."
"Yes."
He looked at her helplessly.
"Emily, I'm sorry."
She looked toward Grace.
"I believe you."
Hope flickered across his face.
Then she continued.
"But believing you're sorry doesn't mean I want to be married to you."
The hope disappeared.
Vincent looked down at the baby.
"I understand."
Emily wasn't sure he did.
For years, Vincent had been convinced that every problem could be solved with enough money, influence, or determination.
If a business partnership collapsed, he bought the company.
If a hotel lost money, he replaced management.
If someone threatened his interests, he made the threat disappear.
But his marriage wasn't a problem he could eliminate.
It was a relationship he had neglected until there was nothing left to save.
Rachel entered with a glass of water for Emily.
"How is everyone doing?"
"Fine," Emily answered.
Vincent didn't look up.
Rachel glanced between them.
"Good."
She placed several documents on the table.
"Before you leave, there are some arrangements we need to discuss."
Vincent nodded.
"Whatever Emily needs."
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
"Let's make sure we're specific."
She opened the folder.
The proposed temporary agreement allowed Vincent regular daytime visits while Grace was very young, with scheduling based on the baby's feeding and medical needs.
Emily would remain Grace's primary residential parent.
Neither parent would take Grace outside Illinois without advance agreement or a court order.
The agreement also restricted Vincent from exposing the baby to criminal associates, weapons, or unsecured business properties.
Vincent read the page.
Then he looked up.
"You're asking me not to bring my daughter into my own house?"
Rachel answered calmly.
"I'm asking that visits occur somewhere appropriate and safe until the security concerns are resolved."
"That house is protected by armed professionals."
"Exactly."
Emily spoke before Vincent could argue.
"Grace is a baby, Vincent. She doesn't need men with rifles standing outside her nursery."
His expression hardened instinctively.
"My security team has protected this family for decades."
"And what did that protection do for me when I was giving birth?"
Silence.
Emily stepped closer.
"I don't want Grace growing up afraid of strange men in black cars. I don't want her taught that every argument ends with someone being threatened."
"She's a Moretti."
"She's also a Carter."
Vincent stared at her.
Emily continued.
"And she has a right to grow up somewhere peaceful."
Something moved across Vincent's face.
Not anger.
Recognition.
He looked at Grace.
Then he picked up the pen.
"All right."
Rachel blinked.
"You agree?"
"Yes."
He signed the temporary agreement.
"I won't bring her into the mansion."
Emily looked surprised.
Vincent turned toward her.
"Not until I can make it a place where you would feel safe letting her visit."
She didn't answer.
He knew she had no reason to trust the promise.
After forty-five minutes, Grace began fussing.
Emily gently reached for her.
Vincent hesitated.
His arms tightened for a fraction of a second.
Then he handed the baby back.
It was such a small action.
But Emily noticed it.
For the first time, Vincent had been asked to give up something he wanted, and he'd done so without arguing.
Grace settled immediately against her mother's chest.
Vincent watched.
"She knows you."
Emily brushed Grace's dark hair.
"Of course she does."
"She stopped crying the moment you held her."
"She's heard my heartbeat her whole life."
Vincent stared at them.
The realization was almost unbearable.
Emily had been Grace's entire world long before he knew her name.
He stood slowly.
"Thank you for letting me see her."
Emily nodded.
"Rachel will send you the next available times."
He looked as though he wanted to say more.
Instead, he walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
"Emily?"
She looked up.
"What?"
"When did you stop loving me?"
The question hung between them.
Rachel quietly stepped into the hallway.
Emily looked at Vincent for a long moment.
"I didn't stop all at once."
He waited.
"It happened a little every time I asked you to come home and you told me I was being dramatic."
He lowered his head.
"A little every time Sophia called and you answered her before you answered me."
His jaw tightened.
"A little every time you bought me something instead of spending time with me."
Her eyes filled.
"And then I was lying in a hospital bed, wondering whether I would live long enough to meet my daughter properly."
Vincent's face went white.
"And I realized I was afraid of dying without you ever knowing how much I loved you."
She swallowed.
"But when I survived, something changed."
"What?"
"I realized Grace needed me more than I needed you."
Vincent couldn't answer.
Emily looked down at her daughter.
"I think that's when I stopped waiting."
He left without another word.
Outside, the cold Chicago wind struck his face.
Nico stood beside the parked car.
"How was she?"
Vincent looked toward the building.
"Beautiful."
"Emily?"
Vincent shook his head.
"Grace."
Nico opened the car door.
Vincent didn't move.
"She let me hold her."
Nico's expression softened.
"That's something."
Vincent laughed bitterly.
"Forty-five minutes."
"Sir?"
"I was given forty-five minutes with a daughter who's been alive for nearly two weeks."
He looked toward the sky.
"I own buildings, casinos, hotels, ships. I have people who answer my calls in the middle of the night."
His voice broke.
"And I couldn't convince my own wife to let me stay another minute."
Nico said nothing.
Vincent finally entered the car.
"Take me to the office."
"There's something you should know first."
Nico handed him a tablet.
The screen displayed a photograph.
Emily leaving Rachel's building with Grace in a car seat.
The picture had been taken from across the street.
Vincent's face hardened.
"Who took this?"
"We don't know."
"Was it one of ours?"
"No."
Vincent enlarged the image.
Emily was wearing a gray coat.
Grace's face was hidden beneath the car seat canopy.
In the background stood a dark SUV.
Nico pointed toward it.
"We believe this vehicle has been near Emily's townhouse twice."
Vincent felt his stomach twist.
"Did you call the police?"
"Rachel has already been informed. We're preserving the photographs and the vehicle information."
"Good. Don't send anyone to her house unless Rachel approves."
Nico nodded.
Vincent looked at the image again.
His daughter.
His wife.
A stranger watching them.
"Find out who owns the SUV through legitimate channels," he said.
"And if it belongs to someone connected to my family, I want to know."
Meanwhile, Emily returned home carrying Grace's car seat.
She was exhausted.
The visit had taken more out of her than she'd expected.
Seeing Vincent hold their daughter had hurt in ways she couldn't explain.
Because he hadn't looked cruel.
He hadn't looked indifferent.
He had looked like a father who loved his child.
And that somehow made everything worse.
Why hadn't he cared enough before Grace was born?
Why did he need to lose his family before recognizing what he had?
Emily placed the car seat on the living room floor.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She ignored it.
A moment later, a text appeared.
Mrs. Moretti, you should be careful whom you trust.
She frowned.
Another message arrived.
Your husband isn't the only Moretti with an interest in your daughter.
Emily's blood ran cold.
Then a photograph appeared.
Her townhouse.
Taken that morning.
The front window was clearly visible.
So was the small white bassinet standing inside the living room.
Emily immediately moved away from the window.
She picked up Grace.
Her hands trembled as she called Rachel.
"Someone has been watching my house."
Rachel's voice sharpened.
"What?"
Emily described the photographs.
"Lock the doors. Stay away from the windows. I'm calling the police."
Emily carried Grace upstairs.
She checked the bedroom windows.
Closed the curtains.
Then she sat on the floor with her daughter against her chest.
For the first time since leaving the mansion, she felt frightened.
Not of Vincent.
Of whatever had followed her out of his world.
Twenty minutes later, the police arrived.
Rachel followed shortly afterward.
An officer examined the messages and asked whether Emily had any known enemies.
Emily almost laughed.
"My husband is Vincent Moretti."
The officer didn't smile.
"That gives us a place to begin."
After they left, Rachel remained.
Emily sat at the kitchen table, staring at the photograph.
"Do you think Vincent sent someone?"
Rachel shook her head.
"Not necessarily. But we need to consider anyone who might benefit from frightening you."
Emily looked at Grace.
"I thought leaving would make us safe."
Rachel squeezed her hand.
"Leaving was still the right decision."
Emily took a breath.
"Then we find out who's doing this."
Her voice steadied.
"And we don't let them scare us back into that mansion."
Later that night, Vincent received a message from Carlo.
I hear Emily has been receiving unpleasant attention.
Vincent stared at the screen.
He hadn't told his uncle about the photographs.
Very few people knew.
He called immediately.
Carlo answered.
"Good evening, nephew."
"How do you know about Emily?"
Carlo chuckled.
"Chicago is a small city."
Vincent gripped the phone.
"Stay away from my wife and daughter."
"Your wife?"
Carlo sounded amused.
"I thought she was divorcing you."
Vincent closed his eyes.
"Emily is still the mother of my child."
"Of course."
"And Grace isn't part of your business."
A pause.
Then Carlo said something Vincent would remember for the rest of his life.
"Family is always part of the business, Vincent."
The call ended.
For the first time, Vincent understood that his uncle wasn't merely trying to steal money.
May you like
He was trying to use the one thing Vincent had finally realized mattered more than money.
His daughter.
