Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Past
Four days passed with the agonizing slowness of a dripping faucet. Gabriel had not slept more than two consecutive hours since Laura walked out. The boardroom at Bellini Enterprises was running on terror; three senior executives had been fired on Tuesday for minor bookkeeping discrepancies, and by Thursday, Vittorio Bellini had discreetly suggested that Gabriel take a week at the family villa in Lake Como to clear his head. Gabriel had answered by smashing a crystal tumbler against the fireplace, warning his uncle that another word about his personal life would result in Vittorio’s immediate retirement from the board.
Gabriel spent his nights in the nursery. He had moved his laptop and work files to the small rocking chair, refusing to sleep in the master bed where Laura’s scent still lingered on the pillows. Every financial document blurred into the memory of her quiet voice: You cannot command me to feel safe with you.
His private line buzzed. It was Marco.
""Talk to me,"" Gabriel answered instantly.
""Boss, we have an issue,"" Marco said, his tone unusually tight. ""Laura left the apartment forty minutes ago for an appointment at Mount Sinai. She insisted on taking a yellow cab instead of the car service we tried to arrange anonymously. We shadowed her, kept a two-car buffer. But someone else was tailing her.""
Gabriel sat bolt upright, every muscle in his body instantly snapping into lethal readiness. ""Who?""
""Salvatore DeLuca’s crew. Two scouts in an old Chevy. They picked her up near the bridge.""
The DeLuca family had been a thorn in Gabriel’s side for three years. They controlled the narcotics pipelines along the northern docks, an industry Gabriel had strictly prohibited from crossing through Bellini territory. Salvatore DeLuca was ruthless, old-school, and desperate for leverage after losing a fifty-million-dollar shipment to federal authorities two months prior. If Salvatore realized Gabriel’s pregnant wife was moving through the city without an armed convoy, Laura would become the ultimate bargaining chip.
""Where is she now?"" Gabriel demanded, grabbing his coat and holstering his custom Kimber .45 in one fluid, practiced motion.
""She’s inside the clinic on 98th and Fifth. My boys have sealed the exits, and we boxed the DeLuca scout car in an alley two blocks away. We’re interrogating them right now, but Gabriel... Salvatore knows she’s separated from you. Word leaked from the syndicate dinner.""
""Vittorio,"" Gabriel snarled through clenched teeth, rushing down the grand staircase toward the underground garage. ""I’ll deal with my uncle later. Do not approach Laura. Do not let her see you draw a weapon. If she gets scared, the baby could go into distress. I am fifteen minutes out.""
Gabriel drove the armored Mercedes himself, tearing through the Manhattan traffic with flashing emergency lights concealed behind the grille. His heart pounded with a frantic, suffocating terror he had never experienced in his entire life. When rival bosses had put contracts on his head, he had smiled. When an undercover fed had infiltrated his inner circle four years ago, he had calmly dismantled the operation over an espresso. But the thought of Laura—his gentle, brilliant Laura, carrying their unborn son—being cornered in a clinic lobby by DeLuca’s animals turned his blood into pure acid.
He arrived at Mount Sinai in twelve minutes. He didn't wait for valet; he abandoned the car at the curb, its hazard lights blinking, and strode through the sliding glass doors.
Laura was sitting in the third-row waiting area, holding a clipboard with routine intake forms. She looked pale, her gray wool coat draped over her lap, her hair pulled into a neat French braid. When she looked up and saw Gabriel storming through the security gates, his coat flared open, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped, her eyes hardened.
""Gabriel,"" she said, her voice completely even as she stood up, placing the clipboard on the chair. ""I told your men that if you showed up here, I would call security.""
""Laura, you need to come with me right now,"" Gabriel said, keeping his voice low so as not to cause a scene among the other expectant mothers, though his eyes darted nervously across every entrance and corridor. ""Salvatore DeLuca knows where you are.""
Laura looked at him, completely unmoved. ""Then deal with Salvatore DeLuca. That’s your world, Gabriel. Not mine. I have an ultrasound in ten minutes, and you are not on my authorized guest list.""
""Laura, please!"" Gabriel reached out, his hand trembling as he hesitated just inches from her arm, terrified that touching her would cause her to pull away completely. ""I don't care what you do to me. Hate me. Divorce me. Strip every cent from my personal accounts. But don't gamble with his life. Don't gamble with yours.""
For the first time since that terrible night at the dining table, Laura saw absolute, unfiltered panic in Gabriel’s eyes. The invincible mafia kingpin looked shattered, his broad shoulders hunched forward, his hands raw.
May you like
Before she could speak, the receptionist called out: ""Laura Bellini? Room four, please.""
Laura took a slow, deep breath, looking Gabriel straight in the eye. ""You want to protect this baby? Then wait outside that door. Do not speak. Do not command. And don't you dare pretend this makes us even.""
