She burned the ultrasound image after seeing his engagement photo—but the Chicago mob boss arrived before she could do the unthinkable and yelled, "That's mine!"

The journey back to the Midwest was a blur of private tarmacs, leather-lined jet cabins, and suffocating luxury.

Dominic did not leave her side for a single second. When she tried to sit across from him on the plane, he lifted her effortlessly and placed her on his lap, wrapping a heavy cashmere blanket around them both, resting his hand over her stomach while she slept from pure exhaustion.

By dawn, the SUV was gliding through high iron security gates surrounding a sprawling stone estate on the shores of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

The property was surrounded by dense pine forests, high stone walls, and armed guards patrolling the perimeter with Belgian Malinois dogs.

It was not his penthouse in Chicago. It was his private family compound—a place built by his grandfather fifty years ago as an unbreachable fortress.

The SUV stopped beneath the portico. Dominic stepped out first, then reached back in to gather Maddie into his arms once more.

“I can walk, Dominic,” she said, her voice dry and weary.

“The driveway is slick with ice,” he replied simply, carrying her up the grand stone steps into the warm, timber-framed foyer.

Inside, a massive stone hearth roared with a wood fire. The air smelled of cedar, roasted apples, and clean wool. A team of three staff members stood in formation near the grand staircase—a middle-aged housekeeper, a private physician, and an armed guard who stood at rigid attention.

Dominic walked right past them, taking Maddie straight up to the master suite on the top floor.

The room was vast, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty lake, a four-poster king bed draped in white linen, and a adjacent sitting room that had been converted into a high-end nursery with white oak cribs and soft wool rugs.

He set her down gently on the edge of the plush bed.

Maddie pulled her legs up, clutching the velvet cloak around her shoulders, staring around the room like a bird placed in an elaborate gilded cage.

“Where are we?” she asked softly.

“Lake Geneva,” Dominic said, unbuttoning his coat and tossing it over a chair. “Three hours north of Chicago. No press, no DeLuca survivors, no noise.”

“How long am I trapped here?”

Dominic walked over to the nightstand, picked up a crystal decanter, and poured a small glass of water, handing it to her.

“Until our child is born, Madeline,” Dominic said quietly. “And then for the rest of your life.”

Maddie took the glass, her hands shaking slightly. “You think you can force me to love you again? By locking me in a mansion?”

Dominic knelt on the floor between her knees, leaning his arms on the mattress, looking up at her with an intensity that burned through her defenses.

“I don't expect you to love me today, Maddie,” he whispered, reaching out to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I expect you to eat the food my chef cooks, take the vitamins Dr. Evans gives you, and let me spend every night making sure my child is warm.”

He leaned forward, pressing his cheek against her rounded stomach through the soft fabric of her cardigan.

Maddie froze. She felt the heavy, ragged breath he let out against her skin—a sound of deep, overwhelming relief from a man who had spent three months believing his whole world had burned to ashes in a kitchen sink.

“I thought I lost you both,” Dominic rasped against her belly, his eyes closed. “I stood in that apartment in Wicker Park and looked at the burnt sink, and I thought my enemies had killed you.”

Maddie looked down at the dark head resting against her lap. Her fingers twitched with the urge to run through his hair, but she forced her hands to remain flat on the mattress.

“You lost me the moment you lied to me, Dominic,” she said softly.