Chapter 2 - The House Built on Graves
The ride to the Cross Estate on Lake Shore Drive wasn't a commute; it was a tactical evasion. Noah, Dorian’s head of private security and a former tactical commander, drove the lead SUV with ruthless efficiency, taking three circular turns through the industrial district beneath the expressway to shake off two dark sedans that had trailed us from the clinic perimeter.
In the back seat, Dorian sat beside me, his laptop open, his fingers typing at a speed that looked mechanical. On his screen, encrypted security feeds scrolled past—surveillance footage from my apartment building, satellite scans of private airstrips in northern Illinois, and bank wire transfers routing through numbered accounts in Zurich.
""Your apartment was breached twenty minutes ago,"" Dorian said, not looking up from the monitor. ""Noah’s men found the front door unlocked. Nothing was taken, but your nightstand was cleared. All your personal journals from the last three months are gone.""
My heart hammered against my ribs. ""Why would anyone want my notebooks? They're just restoration notes on nineteenth-century oil paintings.""
""And your daily schedules,"" Dorian added, finally turning his head. His jaw was set in that terrifying, square angle he wore when he was about to ruin a rival company. ""Every appointment you had, every café you visited, every morning you woke up sick. Someone has been studying your routine since August, Alina. While I was burying myself in the logistics merger, someone was mapping your life down to the minute.""
""Don't you dare pretend this was done to you,"" I snapped, pulling the heavy cashmere blanket tighter over my knees. The car glided past the towering iron gates of the estate, where double the usual security guards stood stationed with tactical dogs. ""You pushed me out! You stopped coming to bed! You barely spoke three sentences to me over dinner for half a year! You practically handed the pen to my lawyer!""
Dorian closed the laptop with a sharp snap that echoed like a gunshot in the leather-lined interior.
""I pushed you away because three months ago, an anonymous package was delivered to my office,"" he said, his voice dropping an octave into something that sounded like bleeding gravel. ""It contained medical documentation from a Swiss private lab. It claimed that our marriage was being monitored by a third party with access to my personal assets. It said if I didn't begin divestment procedures, the person I cared about most would suffer a terminal accident.""
I stared at him, my mouth opening slightly. ""You... you thought divorcing me would protect me?""
""I knew that as Mrs. Dorian Cross, you were a target for every mercenary who wanted leverage over the Cross board,"" he said, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers were burning hot against my clammy skin. I flinched, but he didn't pull back; his thumb traced the hollow of my cheekbone with an agonizing gentleness that made my chest ache. ""I thought if I stripped you of my name, gave you fifty million dollars, and let you walk away with clean hands, you would be invisible. I thought I was being calculating. I was being an idiot.""
""You were being arrogant,"" I corrected, tears of anger stinging the corners of my eyes. ""You decided my fate without asking me. You treated our vows like risk management!""
""And look what happened the moment I let you out of my sight!"" he fired back, his composure slipping into unvarnished rage. ""You were poisoned with hormonal stimulants by a doctor I trusted with my family's lives! You are carrying my heir, Alina! And Julianna Vance is walking through the snow in Chicago while her legal death certificate is locked in my safety deposit box!""
The SUV came to a halt under the stone portico of the mansion. The massive oak doors opened, revealing a team of private medical personnel waiting with mobile ultrasound equipment and IV stands.
""Welcome home, Mrs. Cross,"" Noah said as he opened the car door, his weathered face grim. ""We've locked down the perimeter. No one enters without biometric clearance.""
""She stays in the master suite,"" Dorian commanded, stepping down and offering his hand to me. ""Bring Dr. Mercer’s private team up immediately. I want a 24-hour heartbeat monitor hooked to her side.""
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I didn't take his hand. I pushed myself out of the vehicle on my own two feet, glaring at the grand stone foyer that had felt like a tomb for two years. ""I am not an incubator for your family drama, Dorian. The moment we confirm this baby is healthy, you and I are having a reckoning.""
""We can have whatever you want, Alina,"" he replied darkly, walking half a step behind me so his body shielded mine from the open courtyard. ""As long as you are alive to have it.""
