Page 64 of His Son's Ex

And me?

I’m Eva Petrova—the daughter of a murdered Bratva lieutenant.

I’m also now a walking, talking time bomb because if anyone finds out the truth, if they realize a Petrov is carrying a Bellacino baby…

I squeeze my eyes shut as a tear slips down my cheek.Damn it.

I could call Halsey. She’d tell me to run. Hell, she’d probably book the plane ticket herself. She’s always been the voice of reason, the one reminding me that mob life is a one-way ticket to disaster.

But this isn’t just about the mob. This is about Dante. The man who made me feel safe. The man who looked at me like I washis whole world. The man whose touch I still crave, despite everything.

The man who is the father of my child.

I grip the cold edge of the bathtub, forcing myself to take slow, steady breaths. One step at a time. No one knows yet. I have time to think, to figure this out, to decide if there’s a way forward that doesn’t end in complete disaster.

But no matter what I do, one thing is clear.

I’m carrying Dante Bellacino’s child. And sooner or later, he’s going to find out.

I squeeze my eyes shut, exhaustion pulling at me. This changes everything—my new identity, my job, all the lies I’ve built my life on.

A thousand thoughts swirl through my head, one standing out from the rest.

I can’t do this alone.

The only person who could truly help me is the one I’ve been keeping at arm’s length.

Tears slip free, silent and unrestrained.

I wash my face then pat it dry with a soft towel. The test sits on the counter, the plus sign staring back at me like a silent judge. With shaking hands, I tuck it away in a drawer. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

I grab my phone as I collapse onto the bed, clutching it against my chest. There are a hundred texts I could send, a thousand calls I could make.

But I can’t dial even one.

Maybe in the morning.

I close my eyes, letting exhaustion pull me under. A million plus signs flash behind my eyelids.

I have no idea where to go from here.

CHAPTER 18

DANTE

Two days later…

Iglare at the clock on my office wall, counting down the minutes until Linda arrives for yet another “discussion.”God only knows what her angle is this time. Maybe she just wants to stir the pot some more. Whatever it is, I’m dreading the conversation.

A knock at the door sets my jaw. My assistant peeks in, face pinched with that anxious look she always gets whenever Linda shows up.

“She’s here, sir.”

I give a curt nod, rising from behind my desk. “Send her in.”

Janine retreats. Seconds later, Linda sweeps inside like she owns the place. She’s in a fitted designer dress that screams money and vanity, her expensive and overpowering perfume hitting me seconds after she enters, a fake smile plastered on her face.

“Dante,” she says lightly. “You look busy.”