I stepped into the cold marble lobby of the building where the clerk's office was located.
And then I saw her.
Lola.
She was sitting on a velvet bench, idly scrolling through her phone.
She was wearing a tight white dress that strained against her skin, looking utterly cheap beneath the expensive cashmere coat I knew Dante had bought her.
But even the coat couldn't hide the mound of her belly.
She was massive.
Seven months, at least.
My stomach dropped, a physical sensation of falling into an abyss.
It wasn't just that he cheated.
It was the timeline.
He had been with her while I was still drowning in the mud, doing his dirty work.
He had been with her while I was managing his legitimate shipping business, securing contracts with the Russians to keep his territory safe.
Lola looked up and saw us.
A smile spread across her face, predatory and smug.
"Dante!" she squealed, struggling to stand up.
Dante rushed past me.
He moved faster than I had seen him move in years.
He was at her side in seconds, his hands hovering over her stomach as if it were made of spun gold.
"Did you wait long, *tesoro*?" he asked, his voice dripping with a tenderness I hadn't heard since our honeymoon.
"No, baby," she said, leaning into him. "Is it done? Is the witch gone?"
She didn't whisper.
She looked right at me over his shoulder.
Her eyes were dark and empty, like a shark's.
She was just a club dancer he had picked up at The Emerald Room.
She had no class, no education, and no loyalty.
But she had a womb that worked.
Or so he thought.
Dante didn't correct her.
He didn't defend me.
He just kissed her forehead.
"Yes," he said. "It's done. We just need to sign the new papers."
He was trading a queen for a pawn because the pawn was pregnant.
I stood there, feeling the cold marble floor seeping through the soles of my shoes.
I watched them.
The happy couple.
The miracle baby.
The lie.
I felt a laugh bubbling up in my chest, acidic and sharp.
It wasn't a laugh of joy.
It was the sound of a weapon being loaded.
