Part 11
The morning sun broke through the Manhattan smog, casting long streaks of amber light across the master suite.
True to his word, Dominic had transformed the lower level of the penthouse into a private medical clinic.
Meline sat on the edge of a pristine examination table, the cool gel already wiped from her stomach.
Beside her stood Dr. Evans, the Valente family’s chief medical officer, a man who had treated everything from corporate stress to gunshot wounds for three generations of Dominic’s family.
Dominic stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes locked onto the small monitor displaying the steady, rapid flickering of a tiny heartbeat.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
The sound filled the sterile room, loud and rhythmic, a fierce declaration of life.
Dominic didn't move a muscle. His face was entirely unreadable, but Silas, who was standing out in the hallway, knew that Dominic hadn't taken a breath in nearly two minutes.
“Everything looks exceptionally stable, Mr. Valente,” Dr. Evans said, turning off the monitor and handing Meline a small stack of printed sonogram images.
“The development is perfect for twenty-four weeks. However, given the emotional stress of the past forty-eight hours, I am prescribing absolute bed rest for the next two weeks.”
Dominic finally moved. He stepped into the room, his presence immediately dominating the space.
“What else does she need?” he demanded.
“Proper nutrition, hydration, and above all, peace of mind,” the doctor replied, packing his instruments into a sleek black leather bag. “No stress, Dominic. Her blood pressure is slightly elevated. For the child's sake, she needs to feel completely secure.”
“She will,” Dominic said simply.
The doctor nodded, giving Meline a reassuring smile before exiting the room, closing the heavy acoustic door behind him.
Dominic walked over to the examination table. He didn't look at the sonogram images in Meline’s hand; he looked directly at her face.
“Two weeks of bed rest,” he said quietly. “You will stay in the penthouse. I will have my personal chef prepare every meal according to the doctor's dietary plan.”
Meline sighed, setting the images down on the table beside her.
“Dominic, I can't just lie in bed for fourteen days. I’ll go crazy.”
“You will do what is necessary to keep our daughter safe,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
Meline looked up at him, a sudden spark of defiance returning to her eyes despite her exhaustion.
“And what about my peace of mind, Dominic? The doctor said I need peace of mind. How am I supposed to find that when I’m locked in a fortress surrounded by men with guns?”
Dominic knelt down, taking her feet in his large hands and sliding them into a pair of soft, warm slippers he had brought down himself.
“The men are there so you don't have to think about the outside world, Meline.”
“But I am thinking about it,” she said, her voice dropping into a desperate whisper. “I’m thinking about what happens after these two weeks. I’m thinking about when she is born. Are we going to raise her in this glass box? Will she ever touch grass? Will she ever go to a public school? Or will she be a prisoner of your name just like I am?”
Dominic stopped adjusting her slippers. He kept his hands around her ankles, his grip warm and steady.
He looked up at her, his dark eyes reflecting the morning light.
“I am already buying land,” he said quietly.
Meline blinked. “What?”
“An estate in upstate New York,” Dominic continued, his voice smooth, calculated, yet deeply sincere. “Six hundred acres. Completely private. Surrounded by natural forests and mountains. No neighbors for miles. It will have a security perimeter that can stop a military advancement, but inside those walls… there will be gardens. A lake. A school built specifically for her and the children of my most trusted officers.”
He stood up, leaning over her, his hands resting on the table on either side of her thighs.
“You wanted her to touch grass, Meline? I am buying her an entire valley.”
“You wanted her to be safe? I am building a world where the name Valente is not a target, but a shield.”
Meline stared at him, completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of his devotion. He didn't just solve problems; he rewrote reality to fit his desires.
“You’re insane,” she whispered, but there was no malice in her voice. Only a profound, breathless wonder.
Dominic leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, possessive kiss that tasted of salt and promises.
May you like
“I am whatever I need to be to keep what is mine,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Now, let me carry you back upstairs. Your bed rest starts now.”
