Page 114 of His Son's Ex

She looks me up and down as she comes in, noticing my robe and bare feet. “You look comfortable. I see the Chappaqua spa lifestyle suits you.”

I roll my eyes and smile, shutting the door.

She looks around. “Beats my cramped place, that’s for sure.”

We go into the kitchen. I make her a cup of tea, then warm up the one I left abandoned. We carry our mugs into the living room, and she plops onto the couch, placing the tabloids and a few manila folders on the coffee table.

“So, you want the good news, the bad news, or the weird news first?”

I drop into the armchair across from her. “Ugh. Is there an option for none of the above? Part of me actually likes being totally cut off from the world.”

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Pick your poison.”

I sigh. “Let’s do weird first. I’m in the mood for something bizarre.”

Halsey kicks off her boots like she owns the place. “Okay, so get this. Rumor has it that Linda Patterson is halfway to Siberia on some cargo ship. No joke. The whispers say your favorite Russians arranged a little one-way cruise after everything blew up.”

She snorts, clearly relishing the scandal. “Of course, the official story is that Linda left the country for an extended business retreat. Which we both know is mob PR code for she’s screwed. She crossed a line and now she’s off the radar, courtesy of the Abramovic crew. Probably eating cold stew out of a tin. No more spa days and fancy clothes for her.”

I raise an eyebrow and set my mug down, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “I know.”

Halsey blinks. “Wait—you already knew all this?”

“I was there, Halls.” I lean back against the cushions. “When the order was given, I heard her scream while Isabella told her she was getting shipped off. Begging for mercy one second, cursing the next. It was ugly.”

Halsey’s jaw drops slightly. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah. But honestly? She’s lucky she’s still breathing. After what she did, everything she planned, Dante and Abramovic could’ve made it permanent. Siberia’s practically a mercy.”

We sit in silence for a beat, letting that settle before Halsey mutters, “Remind me to never piss off a Bellacino.”

I smirk, lifting my tea again. “Smart girl.”

She laughs. “Anyway, next up is the good news. Luca got fired. They stripped him of his heritage rights, kicked him off of all theboards, banned him from Bellacino-owned properties. So he’s basically an unemployed trust-fund brat with no trust fund.”

A laugh escapes me. “That’s ironically satisfying. Sarah’s probably furious.”

“Actually,” Halsey says, a satisfied grin taking hold, “she dumped him. She kicked him out of her penthouse, from what I hear. So yeah, he’s single, broke, and living with mommy’s memory in absentia.”

I give a low whistle. “Good riddance. Luca was always a spineless jerk.”

“Agreed. And last, the bad news.” She sobers a bit, toying with a magazine corner. “The Russians and the Italians are going crazy trying to untangle Linda’s secret deals. She apparently promised Lombardi all sorts of resources—major blackmail deals and offshore bank accounts along with other unknowns. The city’s in reshuffle mode and tensions are high. Which means your man Dante is busier than ever.”

My chest tightens. “He’s not my man.”

Halsey arches a brow. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

I scowl, crossing my arms. “He’s the father of my child, assuming I let him be. It’s complicated. Let’s leave it there.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Sure. Complicated. The best relationships start off that way, right?” Then she leans forward. “Listen, though. They really are in cleanup mode. I’ve heard from a couple of sources that Dante’s been shutting down Linda’s leftover alliances left and right. The Russians, meanwhile, are smoothing out some old rivalries. People arecalling it the Abramovic–Bellacino Peace Treaty, or some nonsense. But it’s definitely the calm after the storm.”

I nod slowly. “And me? Where do I fit in all this?”

Halsey purses her lips, then shrugs. “Your name is still hush-hush. I guess no one wants to advertise that the Petrov heiress is alive and pregnant with Dante’s child. If that gets out, it could spark a second meltdown or encourage random Russians with old grudges to target you. So you’re basically still in protective-limbo status. Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, glancing around. “Lucky me.”

She sighs, noticing my glum tone. “Hey,” she says softly, “don’t let it get you down. You survived. Gianni’s dead. Linda’s on her way to Siberia, and Luca’s officially dethroned. You can breathe now.”