Tony’s expression didn’t flicker. He simply retrieved them, bagged them discreetly, and passed them over.

“Thanks, Tony. About this…”

“I didn’t see a thing, Mrs. Marino,” Tony said. He knew the score.

Back at the estate, I ran straight to the master bathroom.

I ripped open the packages and followed the instructions.

The three-minute wait felt like three centuries.

The results came back.

Three tests. All of them showed a single line.

Not pregnant?!

I reread the instructions in disbelief. Nope. Two lines meant pregnant.

I collapsed onto the floor, my mind racing.

When was the last time we’d been together?

Vegas, two weeks ago… but that felt too recent.

The wild night in Napa before that?

My thoughts were a panicked jumble.

Maybe it was just too early to tell. But the single pink line felt like a death sentence.

[Don’t panic, Mom,] my son’s voice soothed me. [Right now, the most important thing is to hold on to Dad! Give it some time, the test will be positive soon!]

Right. My son was right.

I took a deep breath and decided to find Cassian in the study.

If I couldn't prove I was pregnant, it was time for Plan B: Seduction. I’d remind him exactly what he was about to lose.

I changed into my sexiest silk nightgown, spritzed on the perfume he loved, and tiptoed toward the study.

It was empty.

I searched the house and finally found him in the living room.

Cassian was sitting on the fifty-thousand-dollar Italian leather sofa, a Cuban cigar in his hand. The air around him was heavy, dangerous.

Shrouded in smoke, he looked less like a man and more like a devil surveying his personal hell.

“Cassian…” I said softly, ready to turn on the charm.

He looked up at me, and his cold expression made the words die in my throat.

“If you’ve made up your mind about leaving,” he said, flicking the ash from his cigar, his voice flat, “the lawyers will be here tomorrow.”

“The Manhattan penthouse. Your boutique on Oak Street. And a fifty-million-dollar trust fund. They’re yours.”

Fifty million?!

A sharp pain shot through my chest.

I knew it was pocket change for the Marino family, but it was enough for a lifetime of luxury.

But I didn’t want it.

The back of my throat burned. My eyes stung with fresh tears.

“I’m not leaving, Cassian,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m Mrs. Marino forever. You’re not getting rid of me.”

And I’m not letting that bitch Oriana take my place, I thought.

Besides, once this crisis blew over, Cassian would shower me with far more. Why settle for crumbs?

Cassian’s expression was still grim, but it softened slightly.

He put out his cigar. “Whatever you decide,” he said, his voice tired, “I’ll give you your freedom when you want it.”

He stood up to leave.

“Wait!” I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.

God, even through the fine cotton of his shirt, his abs were pure steel. I couldn’t resist. My fingers tightened, just for a second.

“Where are you going?” I looked up at him, putting on my most pitiful face.

“The docks. We have ‘cargo’ arriving.” His voice was ice. “This is family business. Not for you.”

I knew exactly what he meant by ‘cargo.’ It wasn’t a legitimate shipment.

Cassian broke my hold and strode toward the door.

Watching his back disappear, a wave of panic hit me.

“Cassian!” I shouted. “Come home soon! I’ll be waiting for you!”

I’ll be waiting. The baby and I will be waiting. I couldn’t say the last part.

Cassian paused in the doorway, his back to me. For a long second, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock.

Then, without turning, he gave a low grunt. “Hmph.”

After Cassian left, a dead silence fell over the huge estate.

I sat on the sofa where he’d just been, the smell of his cigar still in the air.

Memories came flooding back.

Three years ago, my father, Salvatore Rossi, lay on his deathbed. He held my hand and spoke his last words.

“Arabella, my time is up. But I’ve arranged your future.”

“Cassian Marino will marry you. Protect you. He owes me his life. He won’t let you be mistreated.”

At the time, Cassian had just taken over as Don of the Marino family. There were enemies within. He needed my father’s old loyalists to secure his power.

Marrying me was the perfect alliance.

The day of my father’s funeral, we were married in front of the family.

I remember that night. I was wearing a hundred-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown, huddled on the far side of the bed, terrified.

“If… if you don’t want to,” I whispered, “we can just… be married in name only.”

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed. He looked younger then, but his eyes were just as deep.

He reached out, his calloused thumb brushing my cheek. “You are my wife, Arabella. My only wife.”

Then he kissed me. It was gentle, careful, like I was a fragile doll.

That night, we found a pleasure neither of us had known before.

But the good times didn’t last.

After we were married, Cassian was always busy. Either dealing with family wars or expanding his territory overseas.

We saw less and less of each other, like two strangers living under the same roof.

Until the accident two months ago.

Cassian finally had some time off and took me to Napa Valley.

Under the stars at a vineyard, he drank a lot.

“You know, Arabella?” a drunk Cassian said, his arm around me. “I wanted to marry you from the first moment I saw you.”

“The alliance, all of it… that was just an excuse. I just wanted you.”

That night, he was wilder than on our wedding night, more possessive.

Our relationship finally started to warm up.

Then came Vegas, two weeks ago. I insisted on going with him for a “business negotiation.”

I knew it wasn't legitimate business, but I just wanted to be with him.

In the presidential suite at Caesars Palace, after some champagne, we had another wild night.

I thought we were finally moving past a political marriage and toward real love.

And now here we were. He’s wounded, the family is in crisis, and he thinks I’m going to bail on him.

I thought about the future my son warned me about.

I’d be at the bottom of Lake Michigan, and Oriana would be the new Mrs. Marino, enjoying everything that should have been mine.

Like hell.

I gritted my teeth.

That bitch Oriana Gallo wants my place?

She can dream on.

I tossed and turned until two in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, so I just scrolled through social media on my phone.

Suddenly, a message from an encrypted number popped up.

It was a photo.

Cassian’s custom Bentley was parked in front of the most luxurious hotel in Chicago. Oriana was getting out of the passenger seat, smiling like a woman who’d just been thoroughly satisfied.

The angle was damning. It looked like they’d just had a very “pleasant” evening together.

My heart stopped.

This time it was sent straight to my phone. I finally had hard proof.

I immediately hit save and tried to take a screenshot.

But the photo immediately pixelated, dissolving into a meaningless scramble of colors. A digital dead end.

“Dammit!” I cursed.

This wasn't a coincidence. Someone was playing me.

My hands trembled as I dialed Cassian’s private number, the one only I and his inner circle knew.

It rang a few times, then went straight to his second-in-command’s voicemail.

“Don Marino is unavailable. If this is an emergency, contact me, Vito…”

Cassian never turns his phone off. And no one touches his private line. No one.

A chill ran up my spine.

Something was wrong.

Either Cassian was in mortal danger… or he was in bed with Oriana, ignoring my call.

I imagined the worst, and my vision blurred with tears.

[Mom! Don’t panic!] my son’s voice cut through the fear. [Dad will be okay! He’s the most powerful Don in Chicago!]

[But you have to watch out for Oriana. She’s definitely plotting something!]

I didn’t sleep a wink.

My son’s voice promised he was safe, but the thought of Cassian with her was a physical knife in my gut.

What if he was wrong? My love for him was an agony.

As the sky began to lighten, I heard an engine. My heart hammered against my ribs—hope and dread all at once. The main door opened, and Cassian walked in.

His jaw was dark with stubble, his suit rumpled. He didn't reek of another woman’s perfume, but of iron and gunpowder.

He was safe. He hadn't been with her.

The relief was so overwhelming, a sob broke from my lips before I could stop it. Tears instantly blurred my vision.

“Arabella!” He crossed the room in a second, his hands gripping my arms. His eyes searched my face, sharp with alarm. “What happened?”

His rough thumb brushed away a tear.

I shook my head, hiding my face against his chest. “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

“Do you want breakfast? I can have Maria make something.”

Cassian waved a tired hand. “Business complications.” His voice was gravelly. “I need a shower. Then I’m gone again.”

I nodded obediently. “Okay.”

I helped him out of his bloodstained jacket and carefully hung it up.

Cassian gave me a complicated look. “Arabella…”

“Yes?”

“Never mind. It’s nothing.” He shook his head and walked toward the bathroom.

I just stood there, feeling useless, not sure what to do.

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

Cassian came out, a black towel around his waist, water dripping down the scars on his chest.

Even after all this time, my heart skipped a beat and I could feel my face flush.

“Do… do you need me to pack anything?” I stammered.

“No,” he said, drying his hair.

He paused, his tone softening slightly. “If this goes well, the Gallo family’s business on the Great Lakes… it will all be ours.”

I knew he was trying to reassure me.

But it also meant he still thought I was planning to run out on him.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

“I understand,” I said quietly. “I’m going back to the room to rest. You handle your business.”

I turned to flee, but his voice stopped me. “Arabella.”

“Yes?”

“Be careful. It’s not safe out there the next few days.”

I nodded and practically fled back to the bedroom.

I’d just laid down when Cassian pushed the door open.

He needed to change.

I feigned sleep, my eyes slitted, watching him from beneath my lashes.

He dropped the towel, revealing that perfect body.

I scanned every inch of him, confirming there were no suspicious marks, and quietly let out a breath.

Cassian pulled on his tailored pants. Just as he was about to put on a shirt, he turned and looked at me.

He looked a little awkward. “No time today,” he said, his voice dropping low. “When I get back… we’ll make time.”

The implication was so obvious it made me blush.

I remembered how I’d been all over him lately, and snapped out of embarrassment.

“That’s not what I was thinking at all!”

I dove under the covers.

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped his lips. The sound vibrated right through me.

A moment later, he walked over, pulled back the covers, and kissed my forehead.

“Such a big bed,” he murmured. “A shame for you to sleep in it alone.”

I shot him a glare. “Pervert.”

The smile on his face grew wider.

But then his expression turned serious again. He spoke softly.

“Take care of yourself. I’ve posted men everywhere. They’ll protect you. Call Vito if you need anything.”

His concern warmed my heart. I nodded obediently.

“Okay. I’ll be careful.”

Cassian gave me one last, deep look, then turned and left.

I only poked my head out from under the covers when I heard the car drive away.

[See, Mom? Dad still cares about you,] my son’s voice said.

[But you have to watch out for Oriana. She’s not done yet.]

I knew he was right.

Cassian’s mood had improved, but I wasn’t letting my guard down.

Oriana wasn’t the type to give up easily.

Cassian was often away on business, but this trip felt different. It was torture.

He’d told me to call Vito with any problems, but I knew what this “trip” was. It was war. I wouldn’t distract them. Instead, every night, he sent a short, one-word text: “Safe.”

It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was something. The ice was breaking.

I was happy.

On the morning he was due back, I finally saw them. Two solid pink lines.

I was so excited I told my son, “Mommy can finally prove you’re here! Just wait, your father is going to be so happy.”

But he didn’t get home until after two in the morning. I had a charity luncheon the next day and needed my beauty sleep, so I went to bed.

I’m a light sleeper, I told myself. I’ll hear him come in.

I didn’t. I slept right through until my alarm.

The space next to me was empty. I checked the study. Also empty.

Confused, I walked into the living room and saw him. He was sitting on the sofa, his face a stone mask.

He was clearly in a bad mood. I thought the war had gone badly and was about to try and comfort him when he spoke first.

“I had the lawyers draw up the divorce papers. Take a look and see if there’s anything you want to add.”

The world went silent, except for the blood roaring in my ears.