Page 56

"Run all you want,tesoro," I whisper to the dawn. "But remember, I told you once I'd follow you to the ends of the earth."
This time, I'll make sure she doesn’t slip through my fingers again.
* * *
My footsteps echo through the penthouse as I pace, each circuit marking another moment she's slipping further away.
The morning sun paints mockingly cheerful patterns across floors that still hold traces of her—a forgotten hair tie, the lingering scent of her perfume, the ghost of her laughter.
"Ti amo," I'd whispered to her last night, letting my walls down like a fool, thinking I could trust the warmth in her eyes, the way she fit against me, the future I saw stretching out before us.
An amateur mistake. The kind of error that gets men like me killed.
My fist connects with the wall, sending spiderweb cracks through imported plaster. The pain centers me, reminds me who I am. What I am.
The Monster of Chicago, brought low by a con artist's smile.
I force myself to breathe, to think like the strategist who built an empire rather than the lovesick boy who lost her. There has to be something, some clue as to?—
The overflowing bathroom trash catches my eye. Strange. The cleaning service came yesterday.
I dig through it mechanically, training overtaking emotion, and?—
Three pregnancy tests. All positive.
The world stops spinning.
"No," I whisper, but the evidence is undeniable. Multiple brands, all showing the same result.
My knees hit marble as understanding crashes through me. The morning sickness. Her exhaustion. My initial instinct was right.
She's carrying my child.
The knowledge detonates something primal in my chest, triumph and terror warring for dominance. Because she's not just running from me now. She's running with my heir. My blood. My future.
My phone buzzes.
"Boss?" Tomasso's voice crackles through. "We've got movement on her accounts?—"
"She's pregnant." The words come out raw, dangerous.
Silence stretches across the line. Then, carefully, "You're sure?"
I laugh, the sound edged with hysteria. "Found the tests. Multiple positives. She knows, Tomasso. She knows and she still?—"
Still ran. Still chose the Fioris over me. Over us.
The rage surges back, stronger now. Because this isn't just betrayal anymore. This is theft of the highest order.
"Change of plans," I growl, pushing to my feet. "I want every medical facility in a hundred-mile radius monitored. She'll need prenatal care eventually. And get me everything on her brother's known associates. She won't leave him behind."
"Boss..." Tomasso hesitates. "If she's working for the Fioris and carrying your child..."
More pieces click into place. "Unless..."
Unless she's running from them too.
The thought snags something in my memory, her tension lately, the way she watched shadows, how she flinched at certain names. Not guilt, maybe.