Page 90 of Of Oaths and Secrets

His expression softens, his fingers brushing gently along my cheek. “Yes, we are.” He pulls me close, guiding me toward the sofa. “But for now,” he murmurs, his voice a comforting rumble, “you’re going to let me take care of you. Will you do that for me, wife?”

I lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my cheek as I close my eyes. “Yes, husband,” I whisper, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over me, melting away the day’s lingering worries. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I know we’ll face them together—stronger, united.

And I have The Reaper on my side.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rafaele

The weeks pass with a surprising quiet, a calm I haven’t known in years. The raids on our warehouses have stopped, and business has settled into an efficient rhythm once again. But my mind isn’t on any of that today. It’s on her. On Nora, whose stomach is now rounding with our child—a sight that stirs something fierce and soft in equal measure within me.

I sit across from my father in yet another meeting, the room filled with the usual faces: local allies, enforcers, all men I’ve known for years. But as they talk, laying out their plans and demands, my focus drifts. It’s almost time for the ultrasound appointment, and I can feel the seconds ticking away, pulling me away from this room and back to her side.

I don’t want to miss this—not again. I’ve been the best husband I can be, as much as this life allows, but even with my efforts to make her a priority, it’s not always possible. And she never complains, never makes me feel her disappointment. But today? Today is different. Today is our twenty-week scan, the one where we’ll find out if we’re having a little princess or aprince. Not that I’ve mentioned this to my father. I don’t need his involvement, his toxicity tainting this moment for us.

“Rafaele will come with you to check on this issue,” my father says, barely looking up from his paperwork.

What issue?I keep my face devoid of expression as I turn to him. “I’m not sure it would be the best use of my time to go.”

My father’s gaze snaps to me, a frown deepening the lines around his mouth. “It is because I said so.”

Ah, here we are again—one of his cyclical power assertion games. They happen randomly, although lately, they’ve become more frequent. Every time someone questions his decisions or asks for me over him, he reacts this way. I never realized before how insecure he was, but in the past few months, it’s become more striking. Maybe it’s because I’m stepping into my role more firmly, with a wife and a child on the way.

I glance at my watch, feeling my patience slip. “Well, whatever this issue is, it will have to wait. I have a prior commitment.”

The subtle shift in his expression shows his irritation. “A commitment that’s more important than the business?”

“More important than an ambiguous ‘issue’ you decided needs my attention, yes,” I reply calmly, knowing full well I’m testing his patience. But today, I don’t care.

The tension thickens as I rise, ignoring the disapproving murmurs from the others around the table. Without a backward glance, I state, "I’ll see you all later."

I make my way toward the exit, feeling my father’s eyes boring into my back. Sure enough, he follows, and the moment we’re in the hallway, he grabs my arm, forcing me to turn and face him.

“You are a disgrace, Rafaele!” His voice is low but seething, meant to cut, to unsettle me.

I hold his gaze, unfazed. “Then force me to step down, Father,” I reply evenly. “Take over. I’ll be waiting.”

He’s quiet for a beat, his eyes narrowing, the mask slipping for just a second. He wants power, wants me to cower, to bow to his will—but he knows he’ll never succeed. And he hates it.

“Just like I thought,” I say, my voice calm. “You know you’ll never win that fight.”

For a moment, I almost expect him to lash out, but he pulls himself back, standing straighter as he glares at me, frustration simmering beneath his cold, proud exterior. “One day, your weakness will destroy everything I’ve built.”

“Then I’ll build something better,” I say, turning on my heel. Without another word, I leave him standing in the hall, knowing I have somewhere far more important to be.

I arrive at the clinic with only minutes to spare, my heart racing from the confrontation but calming the moment I see Nora’s face light up. Her eyes sparkle, her smile soft and full of relief. In that moment, I know I made the right choice.

“You came?” she asks, her voice tinged with wonder.

I pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

She squeezes my hand as we’re called back to the room, where the technician prepares her for the ultrasound.

As I sit beside Nora, holding her hand tightly, my attention is fixed on the monitor, anticipation making every second feel like an eternity. Then, suddenly, the screen flickers to life, and there it is—a tiny, perfect figure nestled inside her. My heart pounds in time with the soft, rhythmic thump that fills the room.

The technician points, and we both look as she says, “There’s your little one.”

But I can barely hear her words. All I can focus on is that small heartbeat, steady and strong, filling the room with a sound I never thought would affect me like this. It’s strange,beautiful, grounding, and yet utterly surreal. My heart swells with something fierce, something more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt—a protectiveness, a devotion I’d thought I’d given away completely to Nora but now feels doubled, infinite.

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