Chapter 2 - The Mafia Boss Promised to Protect His Unborn Baby—But Her Jealous Ex Sold Their Secret to the One Man Who Wanted Him DeadMaeve did not sleep after Elena Price's call.
She sat at her kitchen table until dawn, staring at the rain sliding down the window.
Victor Sloane.
The name echoed in her mind.
She knew little about Chicago's criminal underworld.
Only what appeared in newspapers.
And what people whispered.
Donovan Hayes controlled shipping companies, construction firms, and several waterfront properties.
Victor Sloane controlled competing interests.
The two men had been rivals for years.
Their disputes had occasionally spilled into public view.
And now Derek had told Sloane about her pregnancy.
Maeve placed a hand over her stomach.
The baby moved.
She closed her eyes.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
She had spent months trying to keep her child away from danger.
Now danger had found them anyway.
At seven-thirty, Donovan called.
Maeve answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Good morning.”
His voice was warm.
Calm.
She almost cried.
“Donovan.”
Something in her tone made him pause.
“What happened?”
Maeve swallowed.
“Derek told Victor Sloane about the baby.”
Silence.
Then Donovan asked, “How do you know?”
She explained Elena's call.
The stolen money.
The conversation.
The name.
Donovan listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he was quiet for several seconds.
Then he said, “Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“Lock your door. Don't open it for anyone you don't know.”
Maeve felt cold.
“Donovan.”
His voice softened.
“I'm not trying to frighten you.”
“Too late.”
He paused.
Then said, “I'm coming over.”
Donovan arrived twenty minutes later.
He wore dark jeans and a black sweater.
No expensive suit.
No overcoat.
No visible weapons.
But Marcus Bell stood discreetly near the building entrance.
Maeve opened the door.
Donovan looked at her.
His expression changed.
“You haven't slept.”
She shook her head.
He stepped inside.
Her apartment suddenly seemed smaller.
The narrow kitchen.
The worn sofa.
The stack of bills.
The tiny secondhand crib still in its box.
Maeve felt embarrassed.
Then angry with herself for feeling embarrassed.
Donovan looked around.
But he didn't comment.
Instead, he asked, “Can I sit?”
She nodded.
They sat at the kitchen table.
Maeve folded her hands.
“What happens now?”
Donovan considered.
“First, we confirm what Elena told you.”
“And then?”
“We make sure you're safe.”
Maeve looked down.
“I don't want bodyguards following me everywhere.”
He nodded.
“Then we'll discuss options.”
She studied him.
“Options?”
“Yes.”
“Not orders?”
He smiled faintly.
“I'm learning.”
Maeve almost laughed.
Then grew serious.
“Donovan, I need to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
She swallowed.
“Are you dangerous?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “I've done things I'm not proud of.”
Maeve felt cold.
He continued.
“I inherited a business built partly on fear. I've spent years trying to change that.”
She studied him.
“Have you succeeded?”
“Not completely.”
His honesty unsettled her.
But she appreciated it.
He continued.
“I won't pretend my world is safe.”
Maeve looked down.
“Then how can I bring a child into it?”
Donovan's expression softened.
“You don't have to.”
She looked up.
He continued.
“If you want distance, I'll respect that.”
Maeve stared at him.
“And the baby?”
“I'll support our child. Financially, legally, emotionally.”
His voice steadied.
“But I won't use the baby to force you into my life.”
Maeve felt tears rise.
For five years, Derek had made every kindness conditional.
If he paid for dinner, she owed him gratitude.
If he helped with rent, she owed him obedience.
If he apologized, she owed him forgiveness.
Now Donovan Hayes was offering responsibility without demanding possession.
She looked away.
“I don't know what to say.”
He smiled gently.
“You don't have to say anything.”
They spent the morning discussing practical matters.
Medical appointments.
Insurance.
Legal paternity.
Childcare.
Maeve explained her job at a small accounting firm.
She earned enough to survive.
Barely.
But maternity leave would be difficult.
Donovan listened.
Then said, “I'd like to contribute.”
Maeve stiffened.
He noticed.
“Not as a favor.”
She looked at him.
“As the baby's father.”
She swallowed.
“I don't want to owe you.”
“You won't.”
He continued.
“We can have attorneys establish a fair arrangement. Everything documented. No strings.”
Maeve studied him.
Then nodded slowly.
“That sounds reasonable.”
Donovan smiled.
“Good.”
That afternoon, Maeve attended her scheduled ultrasound.
Donovan asked whether he could accompany her.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
At the clinic, he sat beside her in the waiting room.
Several people recognized him.
A receptionist stared.
A man near the door whispered to his wife.
Donovan ignored them.
He held Maeve's coat.
Filled out the paperwork she asked him to handle.
And waited.
When the ultrasound technician called her name, Maeve looked toward him.
“You can come.”
Donovan stood.
For the first time that day, he looked nervous.
Maeve almost smiled.
Inside the examination room, the technician adjusted the monitor.
A grainy image appeared.
Maeve watched Donovan's face.
His expression changed.
The confident businessman.
The feared crime boss.
The man who could silence a room with a glance.
He stared at the screen like a boy seeing the ocean for the first time.
“That's the baby?” he whispered.
The technician smiled.
“Yes.”
Donovan swallowed.
The heartbeat filled the room.
Fast.
Strong.
Steady.
Maeve began crying.
Donovan reached for her hand.
She held it tightly.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then he whispered, “Hello, little one.”
Maeve laughed through tears.
The technician smiled.
“Would you like to know the sex?”
Maeve looked at Donovan.
He shook his head.
“Your choice.”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
The technician studied the screen.
Then said, “It's a girl.”
Donovan went still.
A daughter.
Maeve watched tears fill his eyes.
He looked at her.
“A girl.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He laughed softly.
Then covered his face with one hand.
Maeve began crying harder.
For the first time, the future felt real.
Not simply frightening.
Real.
A little girl.
Their daughter.
Outside the clinic, Donovan stood beside Maeve's car.
He looked overwhelmed.
She smiled.
“You okay?”
He laughed softly.
“I think so.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You don't sound sure.”
He shook his head.
“I've negotiated contracts worth hundreds of millions.”
Maeve smiled.
“And?”
He looked at her.
“Nothing has ever frightened me as much as hearing that heartbeat.”
Her expression softened.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because suddenly, everything matters more.”
Maeve felt warmth spread through her chest.
For a moment, she wanted to kiss him.
Instead, she looked away.
“We should probably go.”
Donovan nodded.
“Right.”
But neither moved.
That evening, Marcus Bell arrived with news.
Derek Collins had been working with Victor Sloane for several months.
His company was struggling financially.
He owed money.
A great deal of it.
And he had been providing information about Donovan's businesses in exchange for payments.
Maeve listened in horror.
“Why?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Money.”
She shook her head.
Derek had always wanted more.
More status.
More admiration.
More expensive clothes.
More opportunities to impress people.
But she had never imagined he would become involved with men like Sloane.
Marcus continued.
“He contacted Sloane after the café incident.”
Donovan's expression hardened.
“What did he say?”
Marcus hesitated.
Then looked toward Maeve.
“He told Sloane you were pregnant.”
Maeve felt cold.
“And?”
Marcus swallowed.
“He suggested the baby could be used as leverage.”
Silence.
Donovan stood.
His chair scraped the floor.
Maeve flinched.
He noticed immediately.
His expression changed.
He sat back down.
Slowly.
Then looked at Marcus.
“Call Detective Ellis.”
Marcus nodded.
Donovan continued.
“Give her everything.”
Maeve stared at him.
“You're going to the police?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“I thought—”
“That I'd handle it another way?”
She looked down.
Donovan's voice softened.
“I told you I'm trying to change.”
Maeve looked up.
He continued.
“And our daughter deserves better than the world I inherited.”
Three days later, Maeve received a letter.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph of her leaving the ultrasound clinic.
Donovan stood beside her.
His hand rested lightly against her back.
On the reverse, someone had written:
BEAUTIFUL FAMILY.
IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF SOMETHING HAPPENED.
Maeve's hands began shaking.
She called Donovan immediately.
He answered on the first ring.
“Maeve?”
She couldn't speak.
He heard her breathing.
“What's wrong?”
She swallowed.
“Someone sent me a photograph.”
Silence.
Then Donovan said, “I'm coming.”
When he arrived, Maeve was sitting on the kitchen floor.
The photograph lay beside her.
She had been crying.
Donovan knelt in front of her.
“Maeve.”
She looked up.
“I can't do this.”
His expression softened.
“I know you're scared.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I can't spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”
Donovan sat beside her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he said, “You won't.”
Maeve looked at him.
“How can you promise that?”
He considered.
“I can't promise nothing bad will ever happen.”
She swallowed.
“But I can promise I won't ignore the danger.”
He reached for her hand.
She held it tightly.
“And I won't ask you to trust words without actions.”
Maeve began crying.
He pulled her gently into his arms.
She rested her head against his chest.
For a long time, they sat on the kitchen floor.
The rain tapped against the window.
The radiator clicked.
And Maeve listened to his heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
Real.
That night, Donovan returned to his office.
Marcus waited.
“We found something.”
Donovan looked up.
“What?”
Marcus placed a folder on the desk.
“Derek's payments from Sloane.”
Donovan opened it.
Bank records.
Transfers.
Messages.
Then a photograph.
Derek standing beside Victor Sloane.
And another man.
Donovan stared.
His expression changed.
“Who is that?”
Marcus swallowed.
“Your uncle.”
Donovan went completely still.
Anthony Hayes.
The man who had helped raise him after his father's death.
The man who had taught him how to run the family business.
The man Donovan trusted more than almost anyone.
Marcus continued.
“We believe Anthony has been feeding Sloane information for years.”
Donovan stared at the photograph.
Then whispered, “He knew about Maeve.”
Marcus nodded.
“And the baby.”
Silence.
Donovan closed the folder.
May you like
For the first time, he understood that the danger wasn't simply coming from a rival.
It was coming from inside his own family.
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