“People are usually afraid to correct me.”
“That sounds like a management problem.”
He almost laughed.
Living together also forced them to discuss everything they had spent years avoiding.
Adrien admitted he had wanted her long before the gala and had done nothing because she worked directly for him.
Clare admitted she had left the hotel because she wanted that night to mean more than one mistake and had been terrified of what that would do to both their lives.
He offered to move her out of his reporting line immediately.
Clare refused to vanish from her job overnight.
Instead, she agreed to train a replacement and then transfer into a strategy role with the Romano Foundation, where she would no longer report directly to him.
“The foundation needs somebody who can tell me when I’m wrong,” Adrien said.
Clare looked at him.
“Then you’re lucky I’m available.”
At nineteen weeks, Adrien accompanied her to the anatomy scan.
They learned the baby was a boy.
Adrien stared at the monitor so long that Clare smiled.
“You look nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You are.”
He pointed toward the screen.
“He’s very small.”
“That’s how this works.”
“When does he get bigger?”
“Every day.”
Adrien frowned as if biology had presented an inefficient business plan.
Clare laughed until her eyes watered.
Outside the hospital imaging center, a man in a parked car photographed Adrien helping Clare into the back seat.
She no longer hid beneath loose office clothes. Her fitted sky-blue maternity dress made the curve unmistakable.
Nick’s team noticed the car too late to stop it, but exterior security cameras captured the license plate.
The vehicle traced back to the same investigation network Victor had used before.
From that moment, they assumed Victor knew.
Clare had helped expose the fraud stripping away his money, crews, and influence.
Adrien had frozen his access to company accounts.
The audit was closing around businesses Victor had used for years as private sources of cash.
And now he knew Clare was carrying Adrien’s child.
The next four months became a contest of patience.
Victor remained hidden while his options narrowed.
Two crews abandoned him. A third walked away. Warehouse leases were terminated. Companies flagged by the audit could no longer move money unnoticed.
Nick varied Clare’s routes and maintained layered protection whenever she left the secure apartment.
Twice, Victor’s people tried to watch the building.
Both times, Nick’s team identified them early and changed Clare’s movements.
By thirty-five weeks, Victor was running out of money, influence, and time.
Nick learned from a charter broker that Victor had been asking about a late-night flight out of Teterboro under another passenger’s name.
Asking about a charter was not itself proof of a crime.
But Victor appeared ready to leave.
Nick believed he might still want leverage long enough to get away.
Clare was thirty-five weeks and four days pregnant when she had a routine appointment at a hospital-based obstetrics clinic on a rainy Thursday.
Adrien wanted to accompany her.
“You have six people flying in from Chicago,” Clare reminded him.
“They can wait.”
“Nick is taking me.”
Nick stood near the door.
“I’m taking her. Mason and Reed are already at the hospital.”
Clare looked at Adrien.
“Three security people for a blood-pressure check. Happy?”
“Moderately.”
She kissed his cheek.
“Come after your meeting.”
“I’ll be there before you’re finished.”
“That sounds like a threat to Chicago.”
“It is.”
The clinic occupied part of a private outpatient floor connected to a Manhattan hospital.
Nick stayed outside Clare’s exam room.
Mason watched the elevator bank.
Reed waited near the garage entrance.
The appointment began normally.
Clare’s blood pressure was good. The baby’s heart rate was strong.
Dr. Cole reviewed the previous ultrasound and asked about movement.
“He kicks every time Adrien talks near my stomach,” Clare said.
Dr. Cole smiled.
“Already has opinions.”
“Unfortunately, that may be genetic.”
Then a fire alarm sounded.
One electronic tone became a steady warning.
A nurse opened the door and looked into the corridor.
Staff members began moving patients away from the elevator lobby.
A man wearing hospital-facilities clothing approached Nick with a laminated vendor badge and a wheelchair.
“We need to move her to the east stairwell,” he said. “Small electrical fire one floor down.”
Nick did not move.
“Which stairwell?”
“East-side service corridor.”
Nick looked toward the ceiling signs.
The east service stairwell was opposite the clinic’s posted evacuation route.
That was enough.
“Clare,” Nick said without turning. “Close the door.”
The man moved suddenly.
Nick intercepted him before he could fully reach beneath his jacket.
Clare slammed the exam-room door and locked it.
The nurse stared at her.
“Is that your security?”
“Yes. Help me move the cart.”
Together, they shoved a rolling supply cart against the door.
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