Chapter 6
He looked at Leo.
The baby’s lips were losing color.
That returned urgency.
“We can hate me later.”
Nora followed his eyes.
Her face changed.
Victor pulled off his coat.
“My vehicles are heated.”
Another.
“I called St. Jude’s pediatric team before we found the cabin.”
Another.
“Sarah can come.”
Sarah looked surprised.
“Nora chooses where we go.”
Another.
“I do not take the babies anywhere without her.”
Nora stared.
Victor stayed kneeling.
“You said home,” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“Not the penthouse.”
Something in her expression changed.
“I’m not asking you to go home.”
Another.
“I’m asking you to let me help keep them alive.”
Mia whimpered.
Nora closed her eyes.
When she opened them:
“Take Leo.”
Victor rubbed his hands hard in front of the fire until warmth returned to his fingers.
Only then did he touch his son.
Leo felt terrifyingly small.
Victor tucked him inside his shirt and coat against his chest.
The baby’s face rested beneath Victor’s collarbone.
Victor almost broke.
Sarah took Mia.
Nora tried to stand.
Her legs buckled.
Victor moved instinctively.
Stopped before touching her.
“Can I?”
Nora stared.
For one second, something passed between them.
Not forgiveness.
Recognition.
“Yes.”
He supported her to the door.
The walk back was brutal.
Halfway down, Nora collapsed.
Victor caught her with one arm while keeping Leo secure with the other.
No speech.
No promise.
They moved.
When the Escalade appeared through the snow, Thomas opened every door.
Heat poured out.
Sarah immediately began warming the babies gradually.
Wet layers off.
Skin-to-skin.
Blankets.
Victor sat in the front because Nora had not invited him into the back seat.
That detail mattered.
He watched through the reflection in the side window.
Two minutes.
Three.
Mia coughed.
Then screamed.
Loud.
Angry.
Alive.
Leo followed.
Nora folded over them and sobbed.
Victor closed his eyes.
His own breath left him in a shaking exhale.
“Drive.”
The trip to Chicago took hours.
Nobody spoke much.
Victor made calls.
Not to the syndicate.
Not to fixers.
To a real estate attorney.
“I need a detached house.”
Nora looked up from the back seat.
“North Shore.”
Another.
“Near St. Jude’s.”
Another.
“Secure, but it has to look like a family home.”
Another.
“Purchase today.”
Another.
“Deed in Nora Bennett’s name.”
Silence behind him.
The attorney asked something.
Victor answered:
“Not Rinaldi.”
He ended the call.
Nora stared at the back of his seat.
“What are you doing?”
Victor did not turn.
“What I should have done months ago.”
“Buying another solution.”
That hurt because it was fair.
“Yes.”
He paused.
“So the house is yours whether I ever see it or not.”
Nora remained quiet.
“Independent account.”
Another.
“Security if you want it.”
Another.
“You hire them.”
Another.
“They report to you.”
Sarah watched Victor carefully.
Nora said:
“And the twins?”
Victor finally turned.
“They live with you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Just like that?”
“No.”
His voice broke slightly.
“Nothing about this is just like that.”
Another.
“I’m their father.”
Another.
“I want to know them.”
Another.
“But I am not taking them back to a place you had to escape.”
Nora looked down at Mia.
For years—really months, but exhaustion had made those months feel like years—Victor had responded to conflict by making decisions.
Now he waited.
Nora asked:
“What happens when you change your mind?”
“I put everything through lawyers.”
Another.
“You get independent counsel.”
Another.
“Custody is written.”
Another.
“No one from my organization contacts you without your permission.”
Thomas glanced at Victor.
That was not a small promise in their world.
Nora understood too.
“You’d give me control over access?”
“Yes.”
“To your children?”
May you like
“To our children.”
That distinction mattered.
