Chapter 7 - A Sacred Dawn
Three months later.
The summer sun beamed brightly over the ocean view of the Calloway Estate.
The dark storm that had surrounded Della’s life had completely cleared. Cordelia Vance had been sentenced to eight years in state prison without parole for felony assault and reckless endangerment. Harlan Vance was bankrupt, living in obscurity, ignored by the high-society circles he had once desperately sought to command. Viktor Moretti’s syndicate had been completely dismantled by federal authorities following the evidence Royce surrendered.
And at the Calloway Estate, a new life was preparing to enter the world.
Inside the master suite, Della lay on the massive bed, her breathing heavy, sweat glistening on her forehead. The top obstetricians and nurses in the country filled the room, managing the private home delivery Della had requested.
Beside her, holding her hand with relentless strength, was Royce.
"You're doing wonderfully, Miss Marsh," the lead doctor encouraged gently. "One more strong push! The baby’s head is fully crowned!"
Della squeezed Royce’s hand so hard her knuckles turned white, her thumb pressing directly against the faint crescent scar on his wrist—the twin to her own scar.
"Royce!" Della cried out, tears of exertion streaming down her cheeks.
"I’m here, my love," Royce murmured, kissing her brow, his voice thick with uncharacteristic emotion. "I’m right here. Push, Della. Bring our daughter home."
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Della cried out, leaning forward.
A second later, the room was filled with the loud, healthy, magnificent cry of a newborn baby.
"It’s a girl!" the doctor announced joyfully, quickly wiping the baby and wrapping her in a warm, cream-colored blanket. "A healthy, beautiful baby girl!"
The doctor gently placed the infant onto Della’s chest.
Della sobbed with pure joy, her hands trembling as she held the tiny creature. The baby had a tuft of dark hair and tiny, perfect hands that instantly reached out, clutching Della’s pinky finger.
Royce leaned over the bed, staring at the newborn child. The ruthless mafia don, the man who had controlled the city through fear and iron power, felt tears escape his eyes, falling softly onto the blanket.
He reached down with his large index finger, and the tiny baby girl immediately let go of Della’s pinky and wrapped her tiny fingers firmly around Royce’s scar-lined knuckle.
"She has your eyes, Royce," Della whispered, looking up at him with deep love.
Royce smiled—a bright, genuine, magnificent smile that transformed his sharp face completely. He leaned down and kissed the baby’s tiny forehead, then leaned up to kiss Della’s lips with tender reverence.
"She is perfect," Royce whispered softly. "What shall we name her?"
Della looked down at the tiny girl, then back at the man who had saved her, protected her, and loved her beyond measure.
"Hope," Della said softly. "Hope Calloway."
Royce’s breath caught in his throat at the surname. He looked at Della, his dark eyes brimming with unspoken emotion.
Slowly, Royce reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. He opened it, revealing a magnificent, flawless ten-carat oval diamond ring that shimmered like starlight.
"Della Marsh," Royce said, his voice deep and steady, filled with absolute conviction. "Nine years ago, you gave me a second chance at life. Three months ago, you gave me a purpose. Today, you gave me a family. Will you do me the ultimate honor of becoming my wife?"
Della looked at the breathtaking ring, then at the man kneeling beside her bed, holding her hand and their daughter.
May you like
"Yes," Della wept tears of pure happiness, smiling brightly through her joy. "Yes, Royce! A thousand times yes!"
Royce slipped the ring onto her left ring finger, sealing their future with a passionate, loving kiss as the soft summer breeze blew through the open balcony doors, carrying the sweet scent of white roses into the room.
