politico

Chapter 6 - The Visitor

By the second week of her confinement in the east wing, Norah realized that direct defiance was a losing game. Dominic had locked down every physical exit, bribed or threatened every doctor in the tri-state area, and surrounded her with armed men who treated her like a porcelain doll loaded with dynamite. If she wanted out, she needed an inside ally. And there was only one person in the compound who could bypass the guards without raising immediate suspicion. On a rainy Thursday afternoon, the heavy oak doors of the suite opened softly. It wasn't Viktor or one of the guards. It was Lily. The little girl slipped into the room carrying a battered stuffed rabbit under one arm and a box of crayons in the other. She looked up at Norah with those massive, dark, soulful eyes that looked so much like Dominic’s. “Nora?” Lily whispered, as if afraid she’d get in trouble for being there. “Hey, Bug,” Norah said, her heart melting instantly. She dropped to her knees, opening her arms wide. Lily ran across the plush carpet and crashed into her embrace, burying her face in Norah’s shoulder.

“Why are you staying in the big room?” Lily asked, pulling back to look around the luxurious suite with childlike wonder. “Daddy said you were sick.” “I’m not sick, sweetheart. Just... resting.” “Daddy is mean,” Lily announced matter-of-factly. “He told the guards nobody can play with you. But I snuck past old Greg while he was eating a sandwich.” Norah couldn't help a small, watery smile. She stroked Lily’s dark curls. “Greg loves his sandwiches. Listen to me, Lily. Do you want to help me with a secret mission?” Lily’s eyes lit up. Kids love missions, especially forbidden ones. “A secret mission? Like a spy?” “Exactly like a spy,” Norah whispered, leaning in close. “I need you to take a little piece of paper and give it to someone outside the gates.” “Who?” “My mother. Do you remember my mom? She lives in the city, near the bakery with the pink sign.” Lily nodded eagerly. “Grandma Sue! She gave me a cookie last time.” “Yes. If you can sneak a small note to her the next time Dominic takes you out for ice cream, can you do that for me without telling your dad?”

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Lily hesitated for a second, her tiny brow furrowing with adult-like caution. “Is Daddy going to be mad?” “If he finds out, he’ll be very upset with me, yes. But it’s very important, Bug. It’s a secret between us.” Before Lily could answer, the heavy double doors swung open wide. Dominic stood in the doorway. He had his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, his tie loosened, and his eyes immediately locked onto Lily standing beside Norah. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. “Lily,” Dominic said, his voice dangerously smooth. “What are you doing in here?” Lily jumped slightly, clutching her stuffed rabbit tighter. “I came to see Nora, Daddy. She was lonely.” Dominic stepped into the room, his gaze shifting to Norah, who stood up slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Had he heard what she was saying? Had Lily given anything away? “Guards were instructed to keep the hallway clear,” Dominic said quietly, looking past Lily toward the door. “Greg is going to find himself reassigned to warehouse duty in the arctic.” “Don't punish him,” Norah said defensively, stepping in front of Lily. “I told the guard she could come in. She’s a four-year-old child, Dominic, not an assassin.”

Dominic stopped. He looked down at Lily, his expression softening instantly as he crouched down to her eye level. “Go to the playroom, Bug. Maria is waiting for you with your paints.” Lily nodded, gave Norah a quick, conspiratorial wink that nearly gave Norah a heart attack, and scampered out of the room. Once the door clicked shut, Dominic stood back up. The warmth vanished from his face, replaced by that chilling, impenetrable mask. “What were you whispering to her?” he asked, his voice low and level. “We were talking about crayons, Dominic. She’s four.” “Don't lie to me, Norah.” He closed the distance between them, his slate eyes narrowing. “You’re plotting something. I can see it in the way you hold your shoulders.” “I’m pregnant, exhausted, locked in a golden cage, and surrounded by armed thugs. What exactly do you think I’m plotting? An amphibious assault?” Dominic didn't smile at her sarcasm. He reached out, his fingers gently grazing her cheek, tracing her jawline with a touch that was entirely too tender for a man of his violent reputation. “You want out,” he murmured. “Of course I want out! This isn't a life, Dominic. This is a prison sentence!” “It’s protection,” he corrected fiercely. “And you will learn to accept it, because the alternative is a graveyard.”

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