Chapter 12 - Noah Romano
Noah was born in the back room of a private veterinary clinic twenty miles from the blocked highway.
A veterinary clinic.
I would have found that funny if labor had not been ripping me apart.
The veterinarian’s wife was a retired obstetric nurse. Thomas knew her, naturally. Daniel locked the front doors. Ethan stayed beside me. My father stayed outside the room because I told him if he entered, I would use the nearest instrument to make him regret it.
“You’re doing beautifully,” the nurse said.
“I’m going to murder everyone.”
“That’s normal.”
Ethan nodded. “Very normal.”
I glared at him. “Don’t agree with her.”
“I agree with whoever keeps you from killing me.”
Another contraction tore through me.
Hours disappeared.
Pain swallowed time.
Then, just before dawn, the nurse said, “One more push.”
“I can’t.”
Ethan leaned close. “Yes, you can.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“No, I really hate you.”
“I know.”
I grabbed his shirt. “If I die—”
“You won’t.”
“If I die, do not let my father take him.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not let your family turn him into an heir.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not name him Ethan Junior.”
He almost laughed. “That one hurts.”
“One more push,” the nurse said.
I screamed.
Then suddenly—
a cry.
Tiny.
Furious.
Alive.
The sound split me open in a completely different way.
The nurse lifted him.
My son.
Noah.
Red-faced, dark-haired, outraged at the world.
Ethan stopped breathing.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s perfect.”
They placed Noah on my chest.
I sobbed.
Ethan touched one finger to Noah’s hand.
Noah grabbed it.
Ethan broke.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just one tear sliding down the face of the most feared man in New York.
“Hi,” he whispered.
I watched him.
Everything between us shifted.
Not repaired.
Not erased.
Changed.
The nurse eventually took Noah to clean and examine him.
Ethan followed like an armed shadow.
I was alone for less than a minute before Thomas entered.
I stiffened. “Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I wanted to see you.”
“You saw me.”
“I wanted to see him.”
“No.”
Pain crossed his face. “He’s my grandson.”
“You don’t get that word.”
He nodded slowly. “Fair.”
I stared at him. “Who attacked us?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because there is another player.”
“Who?”
“I’ve spent years trying to identify them.”
“Providence?”
“Something inside Providence.”
He stepped closer. “Richard sold research to private buyers. One buyer became more powerful than the project itself.”
“Name.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then what do you have?”
He removed a black card.
No writing.
Only a symbol.
A circle split by a vertical line.
I recognized it.
My stomach turned.
“I’ve seen that.”
“Where?”
I looked toward the door.
“Ethan’s office.”
Thomas froze. “When?”
“Years ago. On a folder.”
His face changed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The door opened.
Ethan entered holding Noah.
He looked between us. “What?”
Thomas held up the card.
Ethan went still.
I saw it.
Recognition.
“Tell me,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“Ethan.”
He looked at Noah, then at me.
“It’s called Meridian.”
Thomas’s face drained. “You knew?”
“Not Providence. Meridian.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“An intelligence consortium.”
“Government?”
“No.”
“Corporate?”
“Sometimes.”
“That means nothing.”
“It’s a network. Private security. finance. military contractors. politicians.”
Thomas whispered, “Richard’s buyer.”
Ethan nodded.
I stared at him. “How long have you known about them?”
“Five years.”
“Were you working for them?”
“No.”
“Were they working for you?”
“Sometimes.”
I laughed bitterly. “Of course.”
Ethan looked ashamed. “I used Meridian intelligence to identify threats.”
“Did you know they were connected to Providence?”
“No.”
Thomas paced. “They’ve been buying genetic research.”
Ethan’s expression changed. “I knew they bought biosecurity data.”
“Human data?”
“Not that I knew.”
Thomas stopped. “That’s how they found the baby.”
I looked between them. “Explain.”
“Meridian has access to Romano security networks,” Ethan said. “If they flagged my movement, they could identify anything unusual.”
“Like me.”
“Yes.”
“And when you found me—”
“They found you too.”
I wanted to scream.
Every layer revealed another.
The nurse returned. “We need to transfer mother and baby to a hospital soon.”
“No,” three men said.
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask the fathers.”
Thomas and Ethan both stared at her.
I almost laughed.
Then Noah began crying.
I reached for him.
Ethan placed him carefully in my arms.
The world narrowed.
My son.
Nothing else mattered.
Then Daniel entered.
His face was pale.
“We need to leave.”
“What now?”
He held up his phone. “A photo just hit every major news outlet.”
He showed us.
A photograph of me holding Noah minutes after birth.
Taken through the clinic window.
Headline: ROMANO HEIR BORN IN SECRET.
My blood went cold.
“How?”
Daniel looked toward the window. “Someone was already here.”
Thomas cursed.
Ethan drew his gun.
Another alert appeared.
ROMANO FAMILY TRUST ACTIVATED UPON BIRTH OF MALE HEIR.
I stared. “What trust?”
Ethan looked confused. “I don’t know.”
Thomas went pale. “I do.”
“What is it?”
“Gianni’s contingency.”
Ethan’s face changed. “My father?”
Thomas nodded. “He built a succession trust tied to Providence.”
“How much?”
Thomas looked at Noah. “Everything.”
“What does everything mean?”
Ethan answered slowly. “Ports. property. corporations. offshore accounts.”
Thomas added, “And voting control over companies Providence infiltrated.”
Daniel stared. “How much is that worth?”
Thomas shook his head. “Not millions.”
Ethan looked at our son. “Billions.”
I held Noah tighter.
He had been alive less than one day.
Already, the world had assigned him a price.
For several quiet minutes after learning about the trust, Ethan and I simply watched Noah breathe. Billions of dollars existed somewhere on paper, but none of it mattered beside the rise and fall of his tiny chest.
“He doesn’t know,” I whispered.
“Know what?”
“That people already want things from him.”
Ethan sat beside me. “Then we teach him he owes them nothing.”
I looked at him. “Including us.”
He nodded. “Including us.”
That answer mattered. Ethan had been raised beneath a surname that functioned like a command. I had been raised inside a lie disguised as protection. Neither of us knew what normal parenting looked like.
“We’re going to make mistakes,” I said.
“Probably expensive ones.”
“I’m serious.”
May you like
“So am I.” He touched Noah’s foot. “But he will never be raised to become a weapon.”
I believed him. Not because Ethan had stopped being dangerous, but because for the first time he seemed afraid of passing that danger on.
