Chapter 1 - The Empty Chair
She Went Into Labor Alone While Her Mafia Boss Husband Held His Mistress’s Hand, but He Never Expected Who Would Be Waiting When He Came Back
The sixth time Naomi Bennett called her husband, she was eight months pregnant, five minutes between contractions, and staring at a television screen that showed him holding another woman’s hand.
For the rest of her life, people would assume the pain was what she remembered most.
They were wrong.
It was the empty chair beside her hospital bed.
It was the sound of Vincent Caruso’s phone ringing while two tiny heartbeats flashed across a monitor.
And it was the photograph on the television.
Vincent, one of Chicago’s most feared underworld figures, standing beneath the bright entrance lights of a private clinic with his hand pressed protectively against Bianca Moretti’s back.
His mistress.
Naomi had been trying to tell him that his children might be born eight weeks early.
Vincent had apparently been too busy comforting another woman to answer.
At 12:58 a.m., another contraction tore through Naomi’s body.
She gripped the bed rail.
“Nurse.”
Gloria Martinez was beside her almost immediately.
“Breathe through it. That’s it. Slow breath in.”
Naomi tried.
Her eyes remained fixed on the television.
The entertainment reporter was speaking over grainy footage of Vincent opening a car door for Bianca.
Bianca looked pale but composed. Vincent leaned toward her, his expression soft in a way Naomi had not seen directed at her in months.
The reporter smiled.
“Caruso was spotted outside Lakeview Medical Clinic late Wednesday night, reportedly helping a close friend after a private procedure.”
Close friend.
Naomi made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
Gloria followed her gaze.
Understanding crossed the nurse’s face.
“Turn it off,” Naomi whispered.
Gloria reached for the remote.
The screen went black.
“Do you want me to call somebody else?”
Naomi stared at her phone.
There was nobody else.
She had entered foster care at seven. She had spent her childhood moving through decent homes with decent people who fed her, clothed her, and eventually sent her somewhere else.
Then Vincent had arrived.
He was powerful, certain, impossible to ignore.
When he chose Naomi, she had mistaken being chosen for being loved.
“No,” she said.
Gloria remained beside the bed anyway.
That kindness nearly broke her.
At 1:07 a.m., Naomi called Vincent again.
This time he answered.
“Naomi.”
Just her name.
No panic.
No What happened?
No Are the babies okay?
Naomi closed her eyes.
“I’m at St. Catherine’s.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“The contractions started before midnight. They’re five minutes apart now.”
Another pause.
Naomi heard a door close on his end.
“Is the doctor worried?”
“The babies are eight weeks early, Vincent.”
“I know how far along you are.”
“Then come here.”
Silence.
For one ridiculous second, Naomi thought the call had dropped.
Then Vincent spoke.
“Bianca had a procedure tonight.”
Naomi opened her eyes.
“What?”
“She had a reaction to the medication. Her blood pressure dropped. She panicked.”
Naomi stared at the dark television.
“I’m in labor.”
“She has nobody here.”
The contraction monitor drew a sharp mountain.
Naomi’s voice became very quiet.
“I have nobody here.”
“That’s different.”
Those two words changed her life.
Not because they were cruel.
Because Vincent meant them.
Naomi had spent years translating him into a better man than he actually was.
He forgot their anniversary because business was complicated.
He missed prenatal appointments because people depended on him.
He came home smelling like perfume because restaurants were crowded and women hugged people.
He kept his phone turned facedown because his work required discretion.
There had always been an explanation.
And Naomi had always done the work of turning explanations into forgiveness.
Tonight, she was too tired.
“Are you coming?” she asked.
Vincent exhaled.
“I’ll get there when Bianca is stable.”
Naomi looked toward the empty chair.
Something inside her stopped pleading.
“The hospital has doctors,” she said.
“What?”
“Stay with her.”
“Naomi—”
She ended the call.
Her hands were shaking.
Her mind was not.
At 3:14 a.m., Dr. Aaron Cole entered with three nurses.
“Naomi, we can’t safely stop the labor anymore.”
She nodded.
“We’re delivering tonight.”
May you like
“Okay.”
“Do you want us to try your husband again?”
