Chapter 8 - The Sanctuary
Three weeks later.
The spring air in Lake Forest was soft, warm, and filled with the scent of blooming cherry blossoms and wet pine.
Evelyn sat in a wide wicker armchair on the back terrace of the mansion, wrapped in a cream cashmere cardigan, her feet resting on a padded stool.
Her stomach, once flat and subtle, now bore a small, distinct curve beneath her dark cotton dress—the early, undeniable line of new life.
Beside her on the glass table sat a tray of fresh fruit, warm herbal tea, and a small stack of books on historical architecture that Roman had ordered for her from a rare bookstore in Boston.
The heavy glass doors behind her slid open softly.
Roman walked out onto the terrace. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie, wearing only a dark blue linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his dark eyes softer than she had ever seen them before.
In his hand, he carried a small leather case.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked, walking over to stand by the stone balustrade overlooking Lake Michigan.
"The nausea is mostly gone," Evelyn smiled, taking a sip of her tea. "Dr. Lin said I can start taking light walks along the seawall next week."
Roman looked out at the blue water, the light reflecting off his short dark hair. "Good. The fresh air will do you both good."
He walked over to her chair, dropping to one knee beside her, setting the small leather case on her lap.
"What's this?" Evelyn asked, touching the soft brown leather.
"Open it," Roman said quietly.
Evelyn lifted the brass clasp. Inside sat a pristine, stamped envelope, along with a set of silver keys and a blue leather folder.
She picked up the envelope. It was addressed to her from the Admissions Office of Boston College.
"Your acceptance was deferred to the autumn term next year," Roman explained softly, his eyes resting on her face. "I spoke with the dean of the graduate school last week. They have reserved your spot in the master's program. Your tuition is paid in full through a private endowment that cannot be altered by anyone—including me."
Evelyn stared at the paper, her heart swelling with an emotion so deep it made her throat ache.
"And the keys?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"A brownstone townhouse on Beacon Hill," Roman said. "Four bedrooms, a small garden in the back, ten minutes from the campus. It’s registered under your maiden name, Evelyn Carter. It belongs to you. Free and clear."
Evelyn looked at him, confused. "Roman... why are you giving me this? I thought... I thought we were staying here."
Roman reached out, his large, warm hand gently taking hers, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her knuckles.
"Six months ago, you were forced into this house to save your father," Roman said, his voice dropping into a rough, honest register. "You were treated like a prisoner, used like an asset, and humiliated in front of the entire city because of my family’s sick ambition."
He looked down at her curved stomach, his expression filled with a quiet, profound reverence.
"I won't keep you in a cage, Evelyn," he whispered. "When the baby is born, if you want to take her to Boston and start the life you were supposed to have... I will let you go. I will pay for everything, protect you from a distance, and never ask you for a single thing in return."
Evelyn looked down at their joined hands—his broad, calloused fingers wrapped around hers, warm, strong, and completely protective.
She remembered the way he had dropped to his knees on the bloody marble floor of the Drake. She remembered the way his voice had broken when he begged her not to leave him. She remembered how he had dismantled his own mother’s power to shield her from harm.
He was a dangerous man, born into a dangerous world. But he was not a monster.
"Roman," she said softly, reaching out her other hand to touch his jaw, feeling the slight rough shadow of his stubble beneath her fingers.
He looked up, his gray eyes locking onto hers.
"What if I don't want to go to Boston alone?" she asked.
Roman froze. For a second, the powerful syndicate boss looked like a man who had forgotten how to breathe.
"Evelyn..." he rasped.
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"I spent six months living in a silent house with a man who pretended I wasn't here," Evelyn said, tears shining in her hazel eyes, a soft smile breaking across her lips. "I don't want a silent house anymore, Roman. I want a home. With you. Here."
Roman stared at her, his jaw working silently, before he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a long, deep kiss against her knuckles, closing his eyes as a single, shuddering breath escaped his chest.
