Chapter 7 - Awakening
Back in the private executive suite, the rhythmic hum of the medical equipment was the only sound.
Dominic sat in the same armchair, his hand gently enclosed around Lauren’s pale, slender fingers. They were cold, but every minute seemed to bring a fraction more warmth back into her skin.
A soft rustle of bedsheets broke the silence.
Dominic’s head snapped up.
Lauren’s eyelashes fluttered. A faint frown touched her brow as she fought against the lingering haze of the sedation and the trauma of the previous day. Slowly, her dark eyes opened, blinking against the bright morning light filtering through the window.
"Lauren," Dominic breathed, his voice cracking with an emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.
She turned her head slowly, her gaze landing on him. There was no anger in her eyes—only a profound, exhausted confusion. Her lips parted, dry and cracked.
"D-Dominic..." she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
"I'm here," he said, pressing her hand against his cheek, tears—hot and unbidden—spilling over his lashes for the first time in over two decades. "I'm right here. I'm so sorry, Lauren. God help me, I am so sorry."
Lauren stared at him, trying to process the towering, terrifying man who was weeping against her hand. She remembered the letters. She remembered the silence. She remembered the terrifying moments in the cold apartment when she thought nobody in the world cared if she and her babies survived.
"The... the children..." she whispered, panic suddenly flaring in her eyes as her chest hitched. "The twins... where are they?"
"They're safe," Dominic hurried to reassure her, kissing her knuckles repeatedly. "They're right next door in the executive suite. A team of the best specialists in the country are watching over them. They're healthy, Lauren. They're beautiful. A boy and a girl. Caleb and Emma."
Tears spilled over Lauren’s lashes, tracking down her cheeks as the overwhelming relief broke through her defenses. She let out a ragged sob, her fingers weakly tightening around his.
"You... you got the notices?" she asked, her voice breaking.
"I didn't see them because of my own blind arrogance," Dominic confessed, his voice thick with shame. "Bianca intercepted the first two. My own security filter blocked the rest. I set the system up to shut out the world, and it locked you out when you needed me most."
Lauren looked into his eyes, seeing the raw, bleeding truth of his remorse. There were no excuses. No arrogant defenses. Just a broken man begging for forgiveness.
"They needed their father, Dominic," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I was so scared."
"I know," he murmured, leaning over to press his forehead gently against hers. "And I will spend every remaining breath of my life making sure you never have to be afraid again."
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The door to the suite clicked open softly, and a nurse rolled in a double clear-walled incubator containing two tiny, swaddled bundles resting side by side.
Dominic stood up, his arm around Lauren’s shoulders, guiding her gently as they both looked down at their children for the very first time.
