Chapter 7

The hospital pathway had been a blur of white walls and sterile whispers. Leo was back at the estate, tucked into the medical wing with the kind of high-grade equipment that made the small-town clinic look like a relic from the nineteenth century. Maya and Toby were in the solarium, distracted by a mountain of new toys that had appeared as if by magic, their laughter occasionally bouncing off the limestone walls.

But the silence in the library was back.

Dante sat at the head of the table, the inheritance outline pushed to the side. He hadn’t changed his clothes, but he looked different. The weight of the confirmation had settled into the lines around his eyes. He wasn't the shark from the boardroom anymore; he was a man trying to figure out how to navigate a house that was suddenly occupied by his own ghosts.

Bella stood by the window, watching a hawk circle the perimeter of the Bedford grounds. She felt the invisible threads of the Blackwood machine tightening around her ankles. The cars, the security, the medical bills—it was all a net.

"You’re thinking about the exit," Dante said. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring at a glass of water on the table, watching the way the late-afternoon sun refracted through the crystal.

"I'm thinking about the fact that my children are currently living in a fortress owned by a man they don't know," Bella said. "And I'm thinking about how long it takes for Silas to find a way through your 'privacy' protocols."

Dante looked up. "He won't. I’ve moved the server for the audit data to a private hub. Even if he fires me, he can't access it. But he’s not the only one looking, Bella. The blind items in the press? They’re getting specific. If you walk out that gate and head for a public airport, you’re giving them a front-page story. You’re giving him a front-page story."

Bella turned around, her arms crossed over her dark brown jacket. "So, what’s the move, Dante? You’ve already bought my lease. You’ve already flagged my flights. What else is left to take?"

"I'm not taking anything," Dante said, his voice dropping into a low, weary resonance. "I’m offering you the penthouse. Not as a guest. As a resident."

Bella laughed, a short, sharp sound that lacked any humor. "The penthouse? You want us in the middle of the city, in a glass box where every paparazzo with a long lens can see us? That’s your idea of privacy?"

"The penthouse has a private elevator bank that connects directly to the foundation’s medical annex," Dante said, ignoring the bite in her tone. "It has a shielded terrace. No line of sight from the surrounding buildings. It’s the only place in the city where I can guarantee Silas doesn't have a pair of eyes on the payroll. The Bedford estate is beautiful, but it’s a target. It’s where the Blackwoods always go to hide. He’ll look here first."

"It's a cage, Dante. Just a higher one."

"It's a residence," he corrected. "With your own floor. Your own staff. I won't have a key to your level. You set the security codes. You decide who comes in and out. If you want to see me, you come to my floor. Otherwise, we stay in the hallway, just like you wanted."

Bella walked back to the table, her eyes searching his. She was looking for the trap. In her world, a Blackwood didn't offer independence without a hidden cost.

"Why?" she asked. "Why give me the codes? Why give me a floor you can't access?"

"Because if I force you to stay, you’ll spend every second looking for a way to break the locks," Dante said. He stood up, his height filling the room, but he didn't move toward her. He kept the table between them. "I don't want a prisoner, Bella. I want a partner in this audit. And I want the kids to be somewhere where the air is filtered and the doctors are five seconds away. Have you seen the news today? They’re already calling the Midwest. They’re looking for the 'Vance woman.' If you go back there now, you’re leading them right to the house."

Bella felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. She thought about the quiet corner of Maple and Second. She thought about the neighbors, the school bus, the life she had tried to keep small. Dante was right. The moment she had walked into that boardroom, she had shattered the glass. If she went back now, she was putting the kids in a different kind of danger—the kind that came with camera flashes and intrusive questions that three -year-olds shouldn't have to answer.

"I have rules," Bella said.

"I’m listening."

"We move to the penthouse, but only until Leo’s first round of treatment is finished. Two weeks. Not a day more."

"Three," Dante said. "The specialists need twenty-one days for the sequence to take."

"Three weeks," Bella conceded. "But the 'no contact' rule stands. You don't come to our floor. You don't 'accidentally' show up during breakfast. And the audit? I want full administrative access to the offshore accounts. No filters. No Marcus looking over my shoulder."

Dante nodded. "Agreed."

"And the kids... they don't know who you are," Bella added, her voice softening for the first time. "I tell them you’re a colleague. A boss. Someone helping with Leo’s doctor. If you try to play the father role before they’re ready, the deal is off. I don’t care about the lawsuits. I’ll take them and vanish, and you can explain to the board why your heirs are gone."

Dante’s was speechless. The silence stretched between them, a taut wire ready to snap. He wanted to scream that he shouldn't have to ask for permission to talk to his own children. He wanted to tell her that the three years of silence had been a debt he never deserved to pay.

But he looked at her—the way she was standing, ready to bolt at the first sign of aggression—and he forced the fire down.

"Three weeks," Dante said. "Your floor. Your rules. My protection."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keycard. It was black with a small silver 'B' embossed in the corner. He laid it on the table and slid it toward her.

"The cars are downstairs," he said. "The movers have already packed the things from the house in Maple. Everything is being transferred to the penthouse as we speak. Even the blue crayons."

Bella looked at the card. She didn't pick it up yet. She looked at Dante, seeing the restraint he was using, the way he was vibrating with a loss of control that he was trying desperately to hide behind a mask of corporate logic.

"This doesn't change anything, Dante," she said. "The DNA is just data. It doesn't make us a family."

"I know," Dante said. "Data can be manipulated. I’m looking for something more permanent."

He turned and walked toward the door, his height and solitary against the light of the hallway. He didn't look back. He didn't wait for her to thank him.

Bella picked up the card. It was cold in her hand.

She walked to the window and watched the movers loading the last of the crates into the black SUVs. She thought about the school bus and the park bench. She thought about the dinosaur drawing.

She was moving into the heart of the machine. She was taking her children into the lion’s den, but for the first time in three years, she wasn't the only one guarding the door.

"Three weeks," she whispered to the empty room.

She turned and headed for the nursery to gather the pack. Toby was shouting about a plastic dragon, and Maya was likely trying to organize the Lego sets by colour. Leo would be awake soon, asking for juice.

She had three weeks to finish the audit. Three weeks to save her son. And three weeks to figure out if the man in the hallway was the person she had loved, or the person she needed to fear most.

She walked out of the library, the black keycard gripped tight in her palm, heading toward the chaos of the triplets and the uncertain luxury of the high-rise sky.