Chapter 9 - Kneeling on Broken Glass
Two weeks passed before Isabella was cleared to leave the hospital bed.
The recovery was agonizing, each step down the fourth-floor corridor requiring immense effort, but every morning at sunrise, Dante was there, offering his broad shoulder for her to lean on as she walked toward the NICU window.
Their daughter, whom Isabella had named Mia Grace Caruso, had been taken off the ventilator after five days. She was now breathing room air through a tiny nasal cannula, her weight steadily climbing past three and a half pounds. Her miniature fingers had learned to curl tightly around Dante’s scarred pinky finger whenever he sat beside her isolette during late-night feedings.
On the fourteenth day, Dr. Chen gave the order: Isabella could be discharged to an outpatient recovery suite, while Mia would remain in the nursery for two more weeks of weight monitoring.
When Dante stepped into Room 408 to pack Isabella’s bags, he wasn't wearing his usual three-piece suit. He wore a simple white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark denim, and no watch. For the first time since she had known him, he looked like an ordinary man.
""The car is downstairs, Bella,"" Dante said quietly, picking up her small brown suitcase—the same suitcase she had carried out into the rain. ""Whenever you're ready.""
Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, wearing a soft wool sweater and trousers. She looked at him steadily.
""Where are we going, Dante?""
Dante stopped, his hand resting on the suitcase handle. He looked down at the floor, then back into her eyes.
""Wherever you want,"" Dante answered, his voice devoid of any pretense or command. ""I put the Lake Forest mansion on the market yesterday.""
Isabella blinked, stunned. ""You sold the estate?""
""I signed the listing agreement this morning,"" Dante said. ""That house was built by a man who treated his family like prisoners. It was built for intimidation, not for raising a daughter. I bought a home on three acres in Geneva, out by the river. Just grass, big windows, oak trees, and a sunroom for you to grow your herbs. There are no iron gates. There are no armed checkpoints. Just a local security detail that stays at the perimeter property line.""
He stepped toward her, setting the suitcase down, and then did something that no living soul had ever seen Dante Caruso do.
He dropped to both knees on the linoleum floor at her feet.
The sovereign lord of the Chicago underworld bowed his head, resting his hands palms-up on Isabella’s knees in complete, absolute surrender.
""Dante..."" Isabella breathed, her fingers rising to touch his dark hair.
""If you want to leave me, Bella,"" Dante whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears, ""I will not stop you. I will sign whatever papers your lawyers write. I will transfer ninety percent of the Caruso assets into an irrevocable trust for you and Mia, and I will move my headquarters to New York so you never have to look at my face again.""
He looked up at her, his dark eyes brimming with raw, unvarnished devotion.
""But if there is even an ember of love left in your heart for the monster I was,"" Dante pleaded, ""let me spend the rest of my life proving that you are my only law. Don't leave me, Isabella. I have all the power in this city, but without you, I am nothing.""
Isabella looked down at the man who had terrified kings of industry and syndicates alike, kneeling before her like a supplicant at an altar. She saw the scars along his brow, the gray creeping into the sides of his hair from the last two weeks of terror, and the pure, unwavering love burning in his gaze.
She reached down with both hands, cupping his square jaw, and tilted his face upward.
""Get up, Dante,"" she whispered softly, a small, tearful smile touching the corners of her lips.
May you like
Dante’s breath caught in his throat, terror flickering in his chest. ""Bella—""
""A king doesn't kneel on hospital floors,"" Isabella said, her thumbs brushing across his high cheekbones, wiping away a single tear that had escaped his eye. ""And I don't want a master, Dante. But I don't want a servant either. I want my husband.""
