Chapter 14 - THE NIGHT NATHAN CHOSE TO LOSE HIS EMPIRE
Vincent was captured forty-eight hours later.
Not because Nathan executed some bloody mafia revenge.
Because Luca gave federal investigators every safe property, financial account, vehicle, and alias he knew.
Vincent was found inside an abandoned Drake warehouse south of Chicago.
He had documents prepared for a foreign escape.
He also had photographs of me.
My mother.
Daniel.
Evelyn.
Nathan.
A list of names lay beside them.
Mine was last.
When police led Vincent outside, Nathan stood behind the barricade.
Vincent laughed when he saw him.
“You gave everything to strangers with badges.”
Nathan said nothing.
“You think they’ll let you keep your empire?”
“No.”
Vincent’s smile vanished.
Nathan continued.
“That’s the difference between us.”
“What?”
“You would burn everyone you love to keep power.”
Nathan looked at me.
“I finally learned power isn’t worth keeping if it costs you the people who matter.”
Vincent was taken away.
The legal fallout lasted months.
Nathan cooperated fully.
Several illegal operations connected to the old Drake organization were dismantled.
Assets tied to theft or criminal activity were surrendered.
Victims received restitution.
Men Nathan had once considered allies disappeared from his life when they realized he would no longer protect them from consequences.
Drake Harbor Logistics survived.
Smaller.
Legitimate.
Audited.
Publicly accountable.
Nathan’s personal fortune dropped dramatically.
He did not complain once.
One evening, almost a year after my mother died, Nathan stood outside my new apartment.
Not a penthouse.
Not a guarded mansion.
My apartment.
I had purchased it myself.
The Carter-Evelyn Trust had made me wealthy, but I was slowly learning that money only changed what problems looked like.
It did not automatically heal anything.
Nathan held two coffees.
“No mysterious pills?”
I asked.
His mouth twitched.
“I thought we agreed I’d never live that down.”
“We did not agree to that.”
He handed me a cup.
Then his expression became serious.
“I want to ask you something.”
My heart accelerated.
He reached into his jacket.
“Nathan—”
“Not that.”
He smiled.
“Not yet.”
He pulled out a document.
The Hannah Carter Foundation.
A nonprofit designed to help families facing overwhelming end-of-life medical bills, funeral expenses, and emergency housing costs.
He had funded the first year anonymously.
My eyes filled.
“The first grant is forty-nine thousand two hundred dollars,” he said.
I laughed through tears.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything about that night.”
“So do I.”
His smile faded.
“Bella, if I could change how we met—”
“I wouldn’t.”
He stared at me.
“I’d change parts of it,” I added. “Definitely the pill.”
He laughed.
Then I took his hand.
“But I wouldn’t erase where it brought us.”
His eyes softened.
I had one secret of my own.
A secret I had discovered that morning.
I reached into my pocket.
Nathan looked confused when I placed a pregnancy test in his hand.
Two lines.
He stared at it.
Then at me.
“Bella?”
I smiled.
“This time, every choice that brought us here was ours.”
Nathan Drake—the man Chicago once feared—looked absolutely terrified.
“We’re having a baby?”
May you like
I nodded.
And he started crying.
