Frank stood by the panoramic window of his Penthouse, the city lights below a glittering sprawl that offered little comfort to the turmoil brewing within him. It was late, past two in the morning, and a profound quiet had settled over the apartment, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the building's ventilation system. He’d been restless for hours, the weight of his world, of Delia’s world, pressing down on him. She was asleep in the master bedroom, her gentle presence a fragile peace he desperately wished to protect, a sanctuary he guarded fiercely against the encroaching darkness. He’d spent the last hour simply watching her, watching the soft rise and fall of the blanket over her burgeoning belly, a silent guardian against the shadows lurking just beyond their walls, the threats he knew
