Dr. Mercer offered a gentle, reassuring smile as she stepped further into the private examination room. "I’m Dr. Mercer. Mr. Cross informed us that you’ve been experiencing severe nausea and exhaustion for the past two weeks."

While our personal life was healing, the legal and public fallout of the Viktor Vance syndicate collapse hit Chicago like a tidal wave. For three weeks, federal prosecutors worked tirelessly to clean up the remnants of Vance's criminal network, relying heavily on anonymous intelligence packages that Dorian had provided.

One afternoon, while Dorian was at his corporate office finalizing the legitimate restructuring of his shipping empire, I received an unexpected visitor at our Gold Coast home.

It was Mr. Sterling—Dorian’s corporate divorce attorney, the same man who had stood silently in the law office two months ago while I held a pen over the divorce papers.

"Mrs. Cross," Mr. Sterling said respectfully, standing in our sunlit drawing room with his leather briefcase. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Mr. Sterling," I said, offering him a seat. "I assume you're here with paperwork?"

"In a way, yes," Sterling replied, opening his briefcase and pulling out a thick manila folder. He placed it on the glass coffee table in front of me. "Mr. Cross requested that I deliver these to you personally while he finished his meetings today."

I opened the folder, expecting to see financial disclosures or updated security protocols. Instead, my eyes widened as I read the title at the top of the first page:

TRANSFER OF SOLE OWNERSHIP AND UNCONDITIONAL ASSET TRUST.

I skimmed through the pages in utter shock. Dorian had legally transferred fifty-one percent of his entire global enterprise, all real estate holdings, and his personal fortune directly into my name and an irrevocable trust created for our unborn child.

"What is this?" I breathed, looking up at the lawyer.

"It is a total surrender of his empire, Mrs. Cross," Sterling explained with a rare, genuine smile. "If you ever decide to leave him, or if he ever causes you pain again, you have the legal power to strip him of every single dime he owns with a single signature. He wanted you to have absolute power over your future. He wanted you to know that you are never trapped."

My eyes welled with tears as I stared at the legal documents. Dorian hadn't just given me his heart; he had handed me total control of his life's work, placing his entire existence into my hands as a quiet, absolute guarantee of his devotion.

Just then, the heavy oak front doors opened down the hall. Dorian walked into the drawing room, taking off his overcoat and handing it to the house butler. He looked at Sterling, then at the open folder in my lap.

Sterling stood up, bowing his head slightly. "I've delivered the documents as instructed, Mr. Cross. I'll take my leave."

As the attorney left, Dorian stepped closer, looking at me with a rare moment of nervous vulnerability.

"You didn't have to do this, Dorian," I whispered, holding up the thick file.

Dorian sat beside me on the sofa, taking my hands in his. "Yes, I did, Alina. Six months ago, I forced choices on you without your consent to keep you alive. I took away your control. This document gives it back to you. You hold my future now. You hold my entire world."