Chapter 13 - The Longest Night of His Life
At thirty-four weeks, Mara's blood pressure spiked.
She was admitted immediately.
Dominic returned to the same hospital where he had first met her.
Same cardiac tower visible from the maternity wing.
Same terrible coffee.
Different man.
Mara lay in bed watching him pace.
“Sit.”
He sat immediately.
She smiled.
“Still works.”
“You're abusing authority.”
“Absolutely.”
Doctors attempted to stabilize her.
Hours passed.
Then fetal monitoring changed.
The obstetrician entered.
“We need to deliver.”
Dominic went pale.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Mara reached for his hand.
He squeezed.
Too hard.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.”
“You're terrible at childbirth.”
“We haven't started.”
“Exactly.”
Emergency cesarean.
Dominic changed into surgical clothing.
His hands shook.
Mara watched him.
“Hey.”
He looked at her.
“You're allowed to be scared.”
“I know.”
“You're not allowed to become weird and controlling.”
“I'll try.”
“Good.”
Their daughter arrived screaming.
Dominic had never heard a more beautiful sound.
Six pounds.
Tiny.
Angry.
Alive.
But Mara began bleeding.
The room changed.
Dominic recognized the shift immediately.
Doctors moved faster.
Someone guided him away.
“No.”
“Sir—”
“That's my—”
Then he stopped.
Old Dominic would have demanded.
Interfered.
Threatened.
New Dominic looked at the physician.
“Tell me what you need from me.”
“Stay back and let us work.”
He did.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done.
He stood holding his newborn daughter while doctors fought for Mara.
The baby cried.
Dominic whispered:
“Your mother is very stubborn.”
His voice broke.
“She'll come back.”
Forty minutes later, the surgeon emerged.
Mara was stable.
Postpartum hemorrhage controlled.
Dominic cried openly.
When Mara woke, he sat beside her.
Baby sleeping against his chest.
She smiled weakly.
“You look terrible.”
“Family tradition.”
“Is she okay?”
“Perfect.”
Mara looked at the baby.
“Name?”
They had debated for months.
Now Dominic knew.
“Elena.”
Mara smiled.
“Elena Grace Vale.”
“Bennett-Vale.”
He blinked.
“You changed it?”
“I carried her.”
“Fair.”
Their daughter became Elena Grace Bennett-Vale.
Noah cried when he heard the name.
Elena cried harder.
Richard—there was no Richard in this family, Dominic reminded himself, then laughed because Mara had once joked his family tree needed a spreadsheet.
Weeks later, they returned home.
Dominic discovered newborns did not respect criminal reputations.
Elena Grace screamed at 3:00 a.m.
Vomited on expensive shirts.
Slept only when Dominic desperately needed sleep.
He loved every second.
Almost.
One night Mara found him walking through the living room with the baby against his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“She won't sleep.”
“Give her to me.”
“No.”
Mara raised an eyebrow.
Dominic smiled.
“I've got her.”
The baby slowly settled.
Mara watched.
The man who once believed dependence was weakness now looked happiest while being completely necessary to a seven-pound human being.
“You're good at this.”
Dominic looked terrified.
“Don't say that. You'll jinx it.”
Mara laughed.
Then his phone rang.
Elena.
Dominic answered.
His sister sounded emotional.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
Everyone apparently used that phrase now.
Elena had received final paperwork.
Victor's appeals were exhausted.
Ethan's sentence finalized.
The old criminal organization was legally dismantled.
The last warehouse connected to illicit operations had been seized.
It was over.
Dominic sat down.
Mara watched him.
“You okay?”
He looked at his daughter.
“Yes.”
And he meant it.
No empire.
No feared organization.
May you like
No army of men.
Yet Dominic Vale had never felt safer.
