Chapter 10 - Come Home to Me
Thirty-six hours later, the afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of a private top-floor recovery suite overlooking the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan.
The chaos of the storm, the smoke of the estate, and the violence of the rail yard seemed like a distant nightmare, washed away by the calm autumn breeze.
Evelyn propped herself up against the pillows, her face pale but glowing with an undeniable, radiant peace. Bundled in a soft blue fleece blanket in her arms was their son, fast asleep, with a full head of thick dark hair that mirrored his father’s.
The door to the suite opened quietly.
Roman stepped inside.
He was freshly shaved, dressed in a soft charcoal cashmere sweater and tailored trousers. The scratches on his jaw had been cleaned, the tension that had haunted his posture for six long weeks since Noah’s death was finally gone, replaced by a profound, reverent stillness.
He walked slowly to the edge of the bed, his boots making no sound on the hardwood floor.
“Hey,” Evelyn whispered softly.
“Hey,” Roman replied, his voice thick with emotion.
He leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly, his hand cradling the back of her head as if she were made of spun glass. Then, he looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms.
Tears welled in Roman Calder’s eyes—the legendary king of Chicago’s shadows, weeping openly in the sunlight.
He reached out a single, trembling finger. The newborn instinctively curled his tiny hand around his father’s thumb, holding on with surprising strength.
“Noah,” Roman whispered, his voice cracking. “Noah Roman Calder.”
“He has your stubborn chin,” Evelyn smiled, resting her head against Roman’s arm.
Roman reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. From it, he produced the thin gold wedding band with the three tiny diamonds. It had been cleaned, polished, and restored until it shone like new.
Gently, Roman took Evelyn’s left hand. He slid the ring back onto her fourth finger, right where it had belonged for six years.
“I had them re-engrave the inside,” he murmured, turning the ring so she could see the fresh, delicate script beside the original four words.
Evelyn looked closely.
Come home to me. Always.
Roman sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his long arms around both of them, burying his face in the crook of Evelyn’s neck, breathing in the scent of lavender soap and new life.
“The city is quiet,” Roman whispered against her skin. “The port accounts are closed. The logistics divisions are sold. It’s over, Evie. All of it. I’m done.”
May you like
“You’re really done?” she asked, her heart swelling with a relief she had prayed for since the day they met.
“I am,” Roman promised, his lips brushing their son’s soft forehead. “From now on, my only job is making sure I come home to you.”"
