Chapter 8 - WHEN THE DON FINALLY KNEELS
At thirty-six weeks, Clara went into labor.
Maximilian was in a board meeting.
His phone rang.
He answered.
“Sir?”
“What?”
“Clara is at the hospital.”
He stood immediately.
The entire room froze.
“Cancel everything.”
He arrived twenty minutes later.
Clara was exhausted.
“Where were you?”
“Meeting.”
“I hate meetings.”
“So do I.”
She laughed weakly.
Hours later, their son was born.
A healthy baby boy.
Maximilian stood beside the hospital bed.
The nurse placed the baby in his arms.
He stared down.
His entire world changed.
“He's tiny.”
Clara smiled.
“You're six-three. He's going to catch up.”
Maximilian laughed.
Then he looked at her.
“Thank you.”
She reached for his hand.
“We did this together.”
He kissed her forehead.
“I love you.”
Clara froze.
He looked nervous.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Maximilian Russo looked genuinely terrified.
“I know you don't have to say it back.”
Clara smiled.
“I love you too.”
His eyes closed.
Relief washed over his face.
Months later, he proposed.
Not at a gala.
Not in front of business partners.
He took Clara back to the St. Regis.
The same hotel.
The same city.
The place where everything had begun.
He led her to the service corridor.
Clara laughed.
“This is romantic?”
“No.”
He opened the door.
Inside was a small table.
Flowers.
Candles.
And a framed photograph of the ultrasound.
Maximilian knelt.
Clara covered her mouth.
“I know our beginning was strange.”
He smiled.
“I know I scared you.”
“Sometimes.”
“I know I don't deserve to erase your past.”
He took out the silver ring.
The same ring.
“I don't want to erase it.”
He looked up.
“I want to give you a future.”
Clara's eyes filled.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
Then stood.
She kissed him.
Softly.
Carefully.
Like two people who had finally stopped running.
But one final threat remained.
A legal battle over Maximilian's father's estate.
And someone wanted control of everything.
That person was his aunt, Isabella.
May you like
She had been silent for years.
Too silent.
