Chapter 3 - The Child Beneath My Heart
Dante took me out of that bakery through a side exit because, by then, three different people had already raised their phones. He put me in the back of a black SUV, told his driver to take us to a private medical office, and sat across from me in silence until the door closed.
Only then did he ask, “How far along are you?”
“Almost twenty-two weeks.”
The answer hit him harder than I expected.
He nodded once and looked out the tinted window for a moment, collecting himself. When he turned back, his face was composed—but not cold.
“Are you okay?”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of being asked that after the morning I had just had.
“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m upright.”
The corner of his mouth moved like he appreciated the answer.
At the clinic, a doctor checked my blood pressure, listened to the baby’s heartbeat, and told me that stress was not helpful but everything sounded stable. Dante stood back during the appointment, giving me space without detaching. That mattered more than he probably knew.
When we were alone again, I asked the question that had been burning since the bakery.
“What was in that folder?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“A financing deal Derek wanted from one of my companies brought his records in front of my legal team,” he said. “There were inconsistencies in his cap table and ownership disclosures. My lawyer dug deeper. Your name kept appearing in places it shouldn’t have—and disappearing from places it should.”
“My name on what?”
“Seed capital. Early paper. A note that should have either been repaid or converted.”
I stared at him.
“I gave Derek money years ago,” I said slowly. “Small amounts when he was starting out. Rent help. Bills. I let him use part of the inheritance my grandmother left me for what he called a short bridge.”
“How much?”
I swallowed. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
Dante went still.
Then he asked, very carefully, “Did he give you formal documents?”
“I signed something once in his first office. He said it was just temporary so his accountant could classify the transfer properly.”
May you like
Dante nodded as if that answer confirmed something ugly.
“That,” he said, “is why Derek panicked.”
