Chapter 9 - THE MAN WHO THOUGHT HE HAD NO HEIRVincent survived.
The bullet missed his heart by less than two inches.
Clara sat beside his hospital bed for three days.
Leo visited on the fourth.
Vincent looked terrible.
Leo stared.
“You look bad.”
Clara closed her eyes.
“Leo.”
“What? He does.”
Vincent smiled weakly.
“You’re correct.”
Leo climbed onto the chair.
“Did the doctor fix you?”
“Mostly.”
“Mom cried.”
Clara stared at her son.
“Thank you for confidentiality.”
Leo looked at Vincent.
“She said bad words too.”
Vincent glanced at Clara.
“Which ones?”
“None of your business.”
Leo leaned closer.
“Can you still fix airplanes?”
Vincent looked at him.
“I believe so.”
“Okay.”
That was enough.
Leo pulled a drawing from his backpack.
Three people stood in front of a house.
One very tall.
One with brown hair.
One very small.
Across the top:
MY FAMILY.
Vincent stared.
Clara saw his eyes change.
Leo pointed.
“That’s you.”
“I see.”
“You’re too tall.”
“I see that too.”
Vincent swallowed.
“Leo.”
“Yes?”
“You know I’m not your father.”
Leo shrugged.
“I know.”
“And that’s okay?”
“Mom says family is people who stay.”
Clara stopped breathing.
Vincent looked at her.
She had said it once.
Months ago.
When Leo asked why Billy left.
Vincent looked back at the drawing.
For seven years, men had told him he had no heir.
No future.
No one to carry his blood.
A five-year-old had just drawn the future in crayon.
And blood had nothing to do with it.
Anthony was arrested two days later.
Not by Vincent’s men.
By federal agents.
Daniel Graves had been arrested first.
Once investigators obtained the hidden accounts, his protection network collapsed.
Anthony attempted to flee through Canada.
A former ally turned him in.
When reporters asked why, the man answered:
“Children were never supposed to be targets.”
Chicago understood.
There were rules even criminals pretended to respect.
Anthony had broken too many.
Billy accepted a plea deal.
Clara visited him once.
Only once.
They sat across from each other through glass.
“You hate me,” Billy said.
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I did.”
“What changed?”
“I got tired.”
Billy looked down.
“I’m sorry about Leo.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t say sorry because you’re in trouble.”
He looked at her.
“You helped men take your son because you wanted money.”
“I didn’t know they would—”
“You knew enough.”
Billy began crying.
Clara felt nothing.
That disturbed her until she understood.
Indifference was not cruelty.
Sometimes it was healing.
“You will not see Leo until he is old enough to choose.”
Billy nodded.
“If he ever wants to.”
“I understand.”
“No.”
Clara stood.
“One day you might.”
She left.
When Vincent came home from the hospital, the mansion changed.
No strategy meetings at dinner.
No guns visible upstairs.
Fewer guards inside.
More noise.
Leo left toys everywhere.
Vincent complained about them.
Then Clara discovered he had ordered a large wooden storage chest shaped like a pirate ship.
“Unnecessary.”
“It prevents tripping.”
“It cost fourteen hundred dollars.”
“It is structurally sound.”
“It’s a toy box.”
Vincent looked offended.
Clara kissed him.
The contract still existed.
Three months remained.
Neither discussed it.
Until Rachel arrived.
She placed the document on the dining table.
“The termination date is approaching.”
Clara looked at Vincent.
He became unreadable.
Rachel continued.
“You can renew, amend, dissolve or simply allow it to expire.”
Leo was at school.
The house felt too quiet.
Clara asked, “What happens if it expires?”
“You’re legally married unless you file for divorce. The contractual obligations simply end.”
Vincent said nothing.
Rachel looked between them.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
She left.
Clara folded her arms.
“So.”
“So.”
“Excellent conversation.”
Vincent stood.
“What do you want?”
She stared.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“This started because you needed a wife.”
“I no longer need one.”
The sentence hurt more than it should.
Clara looked away.
“I see.”
Vincent frowned.
“That was not—”
“It’s fine.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
“I mean politically.”
She turned.
“I no longer need a wife for alliances.”
“Okay.”
“I need you.”
Clara stopped.
Vincent looked almost angry with himself.
“I am very bad at this.”
“Yes.”
He walked toward her.
“I don’t want another contract.”
Her heart accelerated.
“I don’t want separate rooms.”
He reached her.
“I don’t want you counting months.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
The answer was simple.
“I want Leo throwing toys in hallways.”
She laughed through tears.
“I want you criticizing my towels.”
“They are still ridiculous.”
“I want you stealing half my breakfast.”
“You never finish it.”
“I want every irritating part.”
He took her hands.
“I cannot give you biological children.”
Clara’s expression changed.
“Vincent.”
“I need to say it.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve the chance to want something else.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“I already have a son.”
“I know.”
“And if one day we want another child, biology is not the only way families are made.”
Vincent swallowed.
Clara touched his scar through his shirt.
“You are not unfinished.”
His eyes closed.
“You are not a dead end.”
He opened them.
“And Leo does not need your blood to love you.”
Vincent’s composure broke.
Not dramatically.
A single tear.
He looked almost offended by it.
Clara wiped it away.
“Was that emotion?”
“No.”
“Looked suspicious.”
“Dust.”
“Inside your face?”
He kissed her.
Then lowered himself to one knee.
Clara stared.
“No.”
Vincent paused.
“No?”
“You are not proposing in the dining room.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“I had planned—”
“Stand up.”
“Clara.”
“Vincent Calvetti, if you make me tell people you proposed next to Leo’s unfinished cereal, I will divorce you before marrying you properly.”
He slowly stood.
“You are difficult.”
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
“Then try again.”
May you like
For the first time in his life, the most feared man in Chicago was ordered to redo a marriage proposal.
And he obeyed.
:max_bytes(150000):strip_icc():focal(1048x378:1050x380)/Jenna-Bush-Hager-100223-c94955eb572d47ea815a340c18c6e771.jpg)
