Chapter 2 - The Clinic on Fourth Street
Saturday morning arrived beneath a gray sky.
Norah woke before sunrise.
For nearly ten minutes, she remained motionless in bed listening to the mansion.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No doors opening.
She climbed carefully out of bed.
Her room sat in the eastern wing of the first floor, close enough to Lily’s suite for emergencies but far enough from Dominic’s private rooms that she could almost pretend she possessed privacy.
Almost.
Norah showered, dressed, and selected the loosest coat she owned.
Before leaving, she stared at her phone on the dresser.
Dominic had specifically told her to take it.
Which was exactly why she could not.
Every employee device connected to the estate security network.
Dominic called it a precaution.
Norah knew better.
The phone remained behind.
By seven fifteen, she was walking down the private road toward the nearest bus stop.
She changed buses twice.
Then she took a taxi for the final mile.
The Fourth Street Women’s Clinic occupied the ground floor of an aging brick building between a pharmacy and a laundromat.
Nobody standing outside would have guessed that entering the building felt more dangerous to Norah than anything she had experienced inside Dominic’s estate.
A nurse called her name twenty minutes later.
“Norah Hayes?”
Norah followed.
Blood pressure.
Weight.
Routine questions.
Then the examination room.
Dr. Evelyn Aris entered carrying a tablet.
She was in her late fifties, silver streaks running through dark hair.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Nausea?”
“Better.”
“Back pain?”
“A little.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Cramping?”
“Nothing serious.”
Dr. Aris looked over the information.
“Twenty-one weeks.”
Norah swallowed.
“Yes.”
“And the father?”
Norah stared at the ceiling.
“Not involved.”
The doctor studied her.
“You’re safe at home?”
It should have been a simple question.
Norah did not know how to answer.
Was she safe?
Dominic had never hurt her.
He had never threatened her.
No one inside the mansion had treated her with anything except professional respect.
And yet she lived surrounded by armed men working for someone whose name appeared in newspapers beside words like organized crime, racketeering, and conspiracy.
“I’m safe,” she finally said.
Dr. Aris nodded without pressing.
The ultrasound began several minutes later.
Norah had already seen the baby twice.
But this time was different.
This time there was no mistaking what appeared on the screen.
A tiny profile.
A nose.
A chin.
Five fingers opening and closing.
Norah’s throat tightened.
The heartbeat filled the room.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Aris said.
Norah turned her face slightly away.
She had promised herself she would not cry.
She failed.
The doctor handed her tissues.
“First baby?”
“Yes.”
“That fear never entirely leaves.”
Norah laughed weakly.
“I have more reasons than most.”
Dr. Aris did not ask.
“Would you like to know the sex?”
Norah hesitated.
For half a second, she wanted to say yes.
Then she imagined Dominic holding a son.
Or a daughter.
Imagined the child having his eyes.
Imagined his world closing around them both.
“No.”
“All right.”
The doctor printed two ultrasound photographs.
Norah stared at them.
She should have refused.
She knew that immediately.
Instead she took them.
Her thumb moved across the glossy image.
That tiny person existed because of a night she and Dominic had spent pretending tomorrow did not exist.
Norah slipped the photographs into the inside pocket of her coat.
Afterward she bought tea, magazines, toiletries, and groceries.
Ordinary objects.
Camouflage.
She returned to the estate shortly before dusk.
A security guard inspected the shopping bags at the gate.
“Busy day?”
Norah forced a smile.
“Thrilling. Shampoo and chamomile tea.”
He waved her through.
She nearly believed she had succeeded.
Then she entered the mansion.
“You were gone a long time.”
Dominic stood beside the entrance to the formal living room.
Norah’s blood went cold.
He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.
A glass of bourbon rested in one hand.
His expression was unreadable.
“I had errands.”
“So I see.”
Norah held up a shopping bag.
“Very suspicious errands.”
Dominic did not smile.
“My security chief tried to contact you.”
“My phone died.”
“It didn’t.”
Norah’s grip tightened around the bag.
Dominic continued.
“It’s sitting on your dresser with eighty-three percent battery.”
She said nothing.
“I told you to take it.”
“I forgot.”
“You never forget anything.”
“I’m human.”
Dominic set his glass down.
“My people checked the traffic cameras near the bus terminal.”
Norah’s stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Because you disappeared from every system I use to make sure the people living under my roof come home safely.”
“I’m your nanny, Dominic. Not a prisoner.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?”
He ignored the question.
“You went to Fourth Street.”
Norah could hear her own heartbeat.
“There are dozens of businesses on Fourth Street.”
“You entered a medical clinic.”
Silence.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Why?”
Norah’s mind moved desperately through possible answers.
A stomach problem.
A gynecological issue.
Routine testing.
None explained five months of secrecy.
None explained the sweaters.
Then she chose the lie that frightened her most.
“I have a tumor.”
The room became impossibly still.
Dominic’s expression changed.
“A what?”
“A mass.”
“Where?”
“My abdomen.”
He looked at her stomach.
Norah hated herself immediately.
“The doctors think it’s benign.”
“How long have you known?”
“A while.”
“How long?”
“A few months.”
Dominic’s voice became quiet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because people with health problems lose jobs.”
“You think I’d fire you because you’re sick?”
“I don’t know what you would do.”
That answer hurt him.
Norah saw it.
He hid the reaction almost immediately.
“I want the doctor’s name.”
“No.”
“Norah—”
“This is private.”
“If you need treatment—”
“I said no.”
Dominic stepped back.
The movement surprised her.
He looked toward the window.
“I can arrange the best physicians in the country.”
“I don’t need them.”
“Then let them confirm it.”
“No.”
Dominic looked at her again.
For once, there was no intimidation.
Only something almost painfully human.
“You’re the person my daughter trusts most.”
Norah’s throat tightened.
“If something is happening to you, it affects her.”
“I know.”
“And whether you believe it or not, it affects me too.”
That was more than Dominic had said about his feelings in five months.
Norah had no answer.
She turned toward the hallway.
“I’m tired.”
Dominic did not stop her.
She reached her room, locked the door, and leaned against it.
Her hands shook.
The lie had worked.
Maybe.
Norah removed her coat and reached inside for the ultrasound photographs.
Her fingers found one.
Only one.
She checked the other pocket.
Nothing.
She emptied her shopping bags.
Nothing.
Panic rose into her throat.
There had been two photographs.
Now there was one.
Norah searched the floor.
The hallway.
Her coat again.
Nothing.
Somewhere between the clinic and her bedroom, she had lost an ultrasound picture.
She barely slept.
The following morning, she woke to a knock.
Three quiet taps.
Norah sat upright.
“Who is it?”
Dominic’s voice came through the door.
“Me.”
Her entire body went cold.
She opened the door slowly.
Dominic stood in the hallway.
His face revealed nothing.
One hand was inside his trouser pocket.
The other held a small glossy black-and-white photograph.
Norah stopped breathing.
Dominic raised the ultrasound between them.
His gray eyes locked onto hers.
“I think,” he said softly, “you and I need to have another conversation.”
May you like
And Norah knew immediately that there would be no second lie strong enough to save her.
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