Chapter 8 - The Names They ChoseLayla refused to name the twins for three days.
Dominic found this unacceptable.
“Children require names.”
“They currently have wristbands.”
“Twin A and Twin B are not names.”
“The hospital seems to manage.”
“I do not.”
Layla smiled from the wheelchair beside the neonatal incubators.
“You survived thirty-five years without children. You can survive another afternoon.”
Dominic frowned.
He had become obsessed with the naming issue.
He arrived every morning with lists.
Traditional Italian names.
American names.
Names belonging to dead Gallo ancestors.
Names connected to saints despite his continued insistence that he was not religious.
Layla rejected almost all of them.
“Salvatore.”
“No.”
“Alessandro.”
“Maybe.”
“Giovanni.”
“Too formal.”
“Dominic Junior.”
“Absolutely not.”
He looked personally wounded.
“What is wrong with Dominic?”
“There is already one of you.”
Matteo, standing nearby, laughed so hard he had to leave the NICU.
Their daughter was easier.
Layla liked Emilia.
Dominic liked Sofia.
Neither surrendered.
The argument had become the first normal problem they shared.
Layla treasured it.
For several days, their world shrank to incubators, feeding schedules and numbers on medical monitors.
War continued outside.
Dominic still took calls.
Matteo still brought reports.
But inside the neonatal unit, none of that mattered.
The babies did not care how many docks their father controlled.
They cared about warmth.
Milk.
Touch.
Breathing.
Dominic learned how to place his hand gently over his son’s back.
He learned how to change a diaper through the openings of an incubator.
His first attempt produced an expression of concentration Layla had previously seen only when he negotiated multimillion-dollar transactions.
“You are using too much force,” she told him.
“I am barely touching him.”
“You look as though you are defusing a bomb.”
“This is more dangerous.”
The nurse smiled.
The son opened his eyes.
Dark.
Like Dominic’s.
Dominic froze.
“He is looking at me.”
“He cannot see very far yet.”
“He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That I am his father.”
Layla did not argue.
Because perhaps he did.
Their daughter already possessed a different temperament.
She disliked being disturbed.
Whenever nurses moved her, she protested with sharp little cries.
Dominic admired her immediately.
“She is angry.”
“She is premature.”
“She is Gallo.”
“She is also Bennett.”
He looked at Layla.
“Yes.”
Something in his answer warmed her.
He never attempted to erase her family from the children.
That mattered.
On the third afternoon, their son wrapped his tiny hand around Layla’s finger.
She began crying.
Dominic immediately moved closer.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You are crying.”
“I am happy.”
He looked confused by this unreasonable biological betrayal.
Layla laughed through her tears.
“My father’s name was Elijah.”
Dominic became quiet.
She looked at their son.
“He was a good man.”
“You loved him.”
“Very much.”
“Then Elijah.”
Layla looked up.
“You do not mind?”
“Why would I?”
“Gallo families usually name sons after—”
“My son will be named after a man his mother loved.”
Her throat tightened.
“Elijah Dominic Gallo?”
Dominic smiled.
“I was told there was already one of me.”
“Middle names are safer.”
“Agreed.”
They both looked toward their daughter.
“What about her?” he asked.
Layla considered.
“What was your mother’s name?”
Dominic became still.
“Lucia.”
“Lucia.”
The baby moved.
Layla smiled.
“Lucia Bennett Gallo.”
Dominic’s eyes changed.
“You would do that?”
“She is your mother too.”
He looked away.
Layla recognized emotion he did not want the nurses to see.
“Elijah and Lucia,” she said.
Dominic nodded.
“Elijah and Lucia.”
For several minutes, peace existed.
Then Matteo arrived.
He did not enter the NICU immediately.
He waited behind the glass.
Dominic saw his expression.
Business.
War.
Layla noticed too.
“Go.”
“I am staying.”
“He needs you.”
“You need me.”
“I am surrounded by nurses, cameras and enough security to invade a small country.”
Dominic hesitated.
Layla touched his hand.
“Go.”
He leaned down.
His mouth touched her forehead.
Then he went to Matteo.
The meeting with Victor Rossi had taken place the previous night.
Victor denied ordering the hospital attack.
Dominic placed photographs of the dead Rossi gunman in front of him.
Victor called the man a rogue employee.
Dominic placed financial transfers beside the photographs.
Victor stopped denying.
Then he made an offer.
Celeste would leave Chicago permanently.
Rossi would terminate all cooperation with Moretti.
In exchange, Dominic would keep the family’s involvement secret.
Dominic refused.
Victor increased the offer.
Twenty percent of Rossi Maritime.
Dominic refused.
Victor offered information.
That changed everything.
Matteo and Dominic entered a secure hospital conference room.
“What did he send?”
Matteo opened a file.
“Moretti’s succession network.”
Dominic read.
For years Salvatore Moretti had prepared for the possibility of controlling Gallo holdings.
Judges.
Attorneys.
Doctors.
Family court officials.
Financial trustees.
People positioned to transform kidnapping into legal guardianship after Dominic’s death.
Layla would have been declared mentally unstable or dead.
Celeste, as Dominic’s wife, would have claimed temporary custody.
Then Dominic would die.
An “accident.”
The children would become assets administered by adults who controlled them.
Dominic’s hands tightened.
“Who drafted this?”
“Moretti attorney named Elias Crane.”
“Find him.”
“Already missing.”
“Family?”
“Wife died. One adult daughter.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
Dominic looked up.
“Bring her in.”
Matteo hesitated.
“She is not involved.”
“Then protect her.”
Matteo nodded.
“There is more.”
He placed another photograph down.
A man leaving Victor Rossi’s hotel.
Dominic recognized him.
Carlo Vescari.
One of Dominic’s own senior lieutenants.
A man who had served the Gallo family for fourteen years.
Dominic stared.
“When?”
“Two hours after Victor arrived.”
“Why was I not told?”
“I wanted confirmation.”
“And?”
“We have it.”
Matteo slid financial records across the table.
Carlo had been receiving money from offshore accounts connected to Moretti.
For eighteen months.
The betrayal predated Layla’s pregnancy.
“This is how they knew my schedules.”
“Yes.”
“The penthouse.”
“Yes.”
“The hospital.”
“Probably.”
Dominic leaned back.
Carlo knew security protocols.
Safe houses.
Business locations.
Names.
Families.
Everything.
“How much damage?”
Matteo’s face became grim.
“We do not know.”
Dominic thought of Layla upstairs.
Elijah.
Lucia.
Every security plan Carlo had helped build was now compromised.
“Move them.”
Matteo nodded.
“Where?”
Dominic did not answer immediately.
Every Gallo property was potentially known.
Every corporate apartment.
Every country house.
Every guarded estate.
Layla had once accused him of believing fortresses created safety.
Now every fortress had become a map in an enemy’s hands.
He returned to the NICU.
Layla saw his expression.
“What happened?”
“We have a traitor.”
“Another?”
“One of my senior men.”
She listened as Dominic explained.
Fear entered her face.
“So nowhere you own is safe.”
“No.”
“The penthouse?”
“No.”
“Safe houses?”
“He knows most of them.”
Layla looked toward the babies.
“What do we do?”
Dominic expected himself to give an order.
Instead, he asked her.
“Where would you go?”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“If you had no money, no organization and needed to disappear.”
Layla considered.
“A place nobody like Moretti would think to look.”
“Such as?”
She smiled faintly.
“Somewhere expensive people hate.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“I need specificity.”
Layla thought about her life after being fired.
Then she remembered someone.
“Mrs. Alvarez.”
“Who?”
“The woman who rented me the apartment in Pilsen.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“She owns a farmhouse.”
“No.”
“You do not even know where.”
“No.”
“Wisconsin.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She told me about it when I could not pay rent.”
He stared.
“She offered to let me stay there until the babies were born.”
“And you refused?”
“I needed work in Chicago.”
“Where is this farmhouse?”
“Near a town called Belmont.”
Matteo, who had followed them, searched his phone.
“Population less than a thousand.”
Dominic looked horrified.
“That sounds unsafe.”
“That sounds invisible,” Layla corrected.
“No Gallo ownership.”
“No.”
“No Rossi connection.”
“No.”
“No Moretti connection.”
“No.”
Matteo smiled.
“I like it.”
Dominic glared.
“Of course you do.”
Layla looked at him.
“You want protection?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop thinking like a billionaire.”
The sentence affected him.
Dominic slowly nodded.
Within twelve hours, arrangements began.
The babies could not leave immediately.
They needed additional NICU time.
So Dominic created a false transfer.
Publicly, Layla and the twins would move to a Gallo estate north of Chicago.
A convoy would depart.
Security would be obvious.
Meanwhile, Layla and the babies would eventually leave in an ordinary medical transport under false names.
Dominic would follow separately.
No armored vehicles.
No visible guards.
Only Matteo and two trusted men would know the true destination.
Carlo Vescari would receive the false plan.
Dominic wanted to see where the information traveled.
That evening, Dominic sat beside Layla.
“There is another issue.”
“What?”
“Birth certificates.”
Layla waited.
“I want my name on them.”
She looked at him.
“You are their father.”
“I know.”
“That was not hesitation.”
“What was it?”
“I was thinking about how different this conversation is from the day you threw money at me.”
Pain entered his expression.
“You will never let me forget that.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Layla looked toward the babies.
“I do not want to forget either.”
He was surprised.
“Why?”
“Because if we pretend it did not happen, then whatever we build next is based on a lie.”
Dominic absorbed that.
“You want to build something next?”
She looked at him.
“Maybe.”
Hope appeared cautiously in his eyes.
Layla smiled.
“Do not ruin it.”
“I will attempt not to.”
“Very romantic.”
“I am learning.”
He reached into his pocket.
Layla immediately noticed.
“Dominic.”
He froze.
“What is in your hand?”
“Nothing.”
“You are terrible at pretending.”
“I run a criminal organization.”
“That does not make you an actor.”
He slowly opened his hand.
A ring.
Simple.
Platinum.
One diamond.
Not enormous.
Not theatrical.
Layla stared.
“I told you I would ask.”
“You also said not today.”
“That was three days ago.”
She laughed.
Dominic moved from the chair.
He knelt.
The nurses across the NICU suddenly became extremely interested in pretending not to watch.
“Layla Bennett.”
She covered her mouth.
“I have no argument capable of erasing what I did to you.”
His voice was quiet.
“I cannot promise a normal life because mine has never been normal.”
He glanced toward Elijah and Lucia.
“I cannot promise there will never be danger.”
His eyes returned to hers.
“But I can promise you will never again be invisible to me.”
Layla’s tears began.
“I can promise that every decision I make from this day forward will consider you before my pride, my empire or my anger.”
He swallowed.
“And I can promise to spend the rest of my life becoming a man worthy of the family I nearly lost before I knew I had it.”
The room became completely silent.
“Will you marry me?”
Layla looked at him.
The answer should have been impossible.
Months earlier, he had thrown her out.
Weeks earlier, she had hated him.
Days earlier, she had nearly died carrying his children.
Trust remained unfinished.
Love remained frightening.
But perhaps love did not require the past to disappear.
Perhaps it required two people to look directly at the damage and choose what came next.
Layla held out her hand.
“Yes.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He slid the ring onto her finger.
Then he stood and kissed her.
Behind them, a nurse quietly applauded.
Matteo applauded much louder.
Dominic broke the kiss and glared at him through the glass.
Layla laughed.
For one perfect minute, war did not exist.
Then Matteo’s phone rang.
His expression changed.
Dominic noticed.
“What?”
Matteo entered.
“The false convoy plan reached Moretti.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“How do you know?”
“Because forty minutes ago, Carlo Vescari disappeared.”
Silence fell.
The traitor had run.
May you like
And he had taken something with him.
A complete copy of Dominic Gallo’s internal security files.
