Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Past
That evening, the penthouse was quiet.
The triplets were fast asleep in their new nursery upstairs, watched over by Mrs. Gable, who had developed a deep, newfound respect for Hannah after hearing how she had defended the girls with a brass lamp.
Hannah stood in the penthouse library, staring out at the breathtaking skyline of Manhattan shining under the clear night sky.
A quiet step sounded behind her.
Dominic walked into the room, holding two glasses of amber whiskey. He handed one to her.
“I usually don't drink,” Hannah said with a small smile, taking the glass.
“Neither do I,” Dominic replied, clinking his glass gently against hers. “Except on nights when I survive a war.”
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping the warm liquid, watching the city below.
“I paid off your father’s medical debts today,” Dominic said quietly, looking out at the lights. “All $142,000. The hospital sent a final receipt of closure.”
Hannah turned to look at him, her heart swelling with overwhelming gratitude. “Dominic... you didn't have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” Dominic said softly, turning his body toward her. “Your father was a good man, Hannah. He spent his life protecting you from the Rossi family name. He gave up everything so you could live a normal, honest life.”
Dominic stepped closer, his thumb reaching out to gently trace the high line of her cheekbone. His touch was warm, heavy, and full of a quiet, intense longing that sent shivers straight down her spine.
“You fulfilled your end of the contract,” Dominic whispered, his dark eyes searching hers. “My daughters are speaking. My enemies are gone. You are a free woman, Hannah. You can go back to Queens. I’ll buy you a house, set you up with any business you want...”
Hannah looked up into his eyes. The fear she had felt on that rainy Wednesday afternoon at Bellafonte was completely gone. She didn't see a terrifying mob boss. She saw a fierce, loyal, deeply honorable man who had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders to keep his children safe.
“What if I don't want to go back to Queens?” Hannah asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dominic’s breath hitched in his chest. “Hannah...”
“I spent my whole life feeling alone after my father died, Dominic,” Hannah said, taking a step closer, resting her palm flat against the warm, solid heat of his chest. “I thought I was just surviving. But then three little girls looked at me and called me Mama. And then a man built a fortress around me to keep me safe.”
Dominic dropped his whiskey glass onto the side table, his large hands reaching up to cup her face with fierce, aching tenderness.
“I fell in love with you the second you swung that lamp at a mercenary,” Dominic growled softly, his dark eyes burning with raw devotion. “I love you, Hannah Mercer. Not because you share blood with Isabella. But because you are the bravest, kindest, most extraordinary woman I have ever known.”
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Dominic brought his lips down onto hers.
The kiss was explosive—a lingering, passionate fusion of relief, longing, and undeniable passion. Hannah let out a soft sigh against his mouth, her arms wrapping tight around his neck, pulling him closer as the night skyline of New York glowed around them.
