Chapter 5 - Gathering Storm
Three weeks passed at Calloway Manor, filled with a quiet serenity that Della had never known in her entire life.
Her health improved dramatically under the care of Royce’s personal physicians. The subchorionic hematoma had completely resolved, and the baby was growing healthily. Della spent her days walking through the expansive rose gardens, reading in the sunlit library, and enjoying chef-prepared meals.
And every single evening at exactly six o'clock, Royce returned home.
Despite running a massive business empire and managing complex underground operations, Royce made it an absolute rule to have dinner with Della every night. The terrifying mafia don whom the city feared became remarkably gentle in her presence. He listened intently as she talked about the baby's movements, asked about her favorite books, and slowly opened up about his own past—about his lonely childhood on the streets and how he had fought his way to the top.
One rainy evening, as the storm beat softly against the library windows, Della sat on the plush sofa, her hands resting over her swollen bump. She was now nearly six months pregnant, her belly noticeably rounder.
Royce sat beside her, setting aside a stack of financial reports. His eyes drifted to her stomach, a look of profound wonder in his dark eyes.
"Has the baby moved today?" he asked quietly.
Della smiled warmly. "She’s been kicking all afternoon. I think she likes the sound of the rain."
Royce hesitated for a fraction of a second—a rare sign of uncertainty from a man who normally commanded rooms with iron absolute authority. "May I...?"
Della caught her breath, her chest warming at his hesitation. She took his large, scarred hand and placed it gently over the right side of her bump.
For a moment, nothing happened. Royce held his breath, his eyes fixed on their joined hands.
Then, a sudden, firm kick pressed right against his palm.
Royce froze. His eyes widened, a look of raw, unadulterated shock washing over his handsome face, quickly replaced by a soft, awe-struck smile.
"I felt that," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "She kicked."
"She’s strong," Della laughed softly, her eyes shining with affection as she looked at him. "Just like her protector."
Royce looked up from her belly, his dark eyes locking onto Della’s. The air between them suddenly grew thick with intense emotional gravity. He didn't pull his hand away; instead, his fingers caressed her side with extreme gentleness.
"Della," he said, his voice low and velvet-soft. "I know this baby is not mine by blood. But from the moment I held you in that lobby, I swore that no harm would ever touch either of you. I want to be her father. I want to be your husband... if you will have me."
Della’s heart skipped a beat. "Royce..."
"I don't expect an answer tonight," Royce added quickly, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "I know your past was painful. I know you were hurt by a man who was supposed to love you. I am a dangerous man, Della. My hands are dirty. But my heart... my heart has belonged to you since the night you saved me."
Della looked at him—at the man who had torn down empires to avenge her, who had turned his home into her sanctuary, and who looked at her unborn child with pure devotion. The residual fear from her past relationship melted away entirely.
"I don't care about your past, Royce," Della whispered, leaning closer to him until their foreheads touched. "I see who you are with me. You are gentle. You are good."
Royce brought his other hand up to cup her neck, his thumb caressing her jawline. He leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but Della closed her eyes and leaned forward, meeting his lips in a sweet, deep, reverent kiss.
It was a promises made in the quiet dark—a promise of protection, devotion, and new beginnings.
However, the peace was shattered the very next morning.
Della was scheduled for a specialized 4D ultrasound at a high-end private clinic in the medical district—a appointment Royce had arranged with the top specialist in the state.
Despite Royce's strict security protocols, Viktor Moretti and Harlan Vance had spent weeks bribing an administrative staff member at the clinic to leak the exact timing of Della’s appointment.
As Royce’s three-car armored motorcade pulled into the underground parking garage of the medical building, five heavy black vans suddenly sped in from the side entrances, blocking the exits!
CRASH!
A heavy delivery truck rammed into the rear security SUV, pinning it against a concrete pillar! Dozens of armed men wearing tactical gear and ski masks swarmed out of the vans, opening fire with heavy automatic rifles!
"AMBUSH!" Marcus yelled over the comms from the front seat of Royce’s SUV. "Protect the boss and Miss Marsh!"
Sparks flew through the dark garage as bullets ricocheted off the armored glass of Royce’s vehicle. Inside the backseat, Royce immediately threw his broad body over Della, shielding her completely with his frame, holding her tightly against his chest as the sound of deafening gunfire filled the enclosed space.
"Stay down!" Royce ordered, his voice remarkably calm despite the violent chaos around them. "Hold onto me!"
Della buried her face into his shoulder, clinging to his suit jacket, her heart hammering wildly, praying silently for her baby’s safety.
"Boss! They’ve blocked the main ramp!" Marcus shouted, firing his sidearm through a specially designed gun-port in the door. "It’s Moretti’s men!"
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Royce’s eyes burned with a terrifying, demonic fury. Viktor Moretti had dared to attack his woman while she was carrying her child.
"Call in the strike team," Royce commanded, pulling a heavy tactical pistol from beneath his seat. "Leave none of them alive."
