Page 36

SOPHIE

The world tilts under my feet.

I stare down at my phone, my hands numb as the headline blazes across the screen.

He’s Not at War with the Bratva. He’s Colluding with Them.

Bullshit. It’s all bullshit.

Around me, the boardroom hums with background buzz. My father droning about investor confidence, Denver flipping through slides like we’re not all on the verge of a goddamn implosion.

I’m supposed to care. I’m supposed to focus.

Instead, all I can see are the photos.

Mikhail Orlov's daughter.

The girls from the café.

Me.

It’s all there, splashed across every gossip site, every financial page, every damn tabloid that thrives off blood in the water.

The perfect story.

The playboy billionaire. The Bratva princess. The pregnant girlfriend. The mafia ties. The spectacular fall.

The nausea hits fast and sharp, curling through my gut, but I shove it down.

I can’t break now. Not in front of them.

Not when the whole damn world is watching, waiting for me to crack.

I clench my jaw so tight my teeth ache, and I grip the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.

Because if I let go now, if I let myself feel even one second of this, I might not come back from it.

I barely make it to my office before all hell breaks loose.

My email is a minefield, and my phone won’t stop buzzing like a goddamn wasp nest at my fingertips.

I shove it into a drawer and lock it without answering.

For one blessed second, silence.

I pace the room, heart thundering, brain racing.

This isn’t random.

This wasn’t leaked by some bored gossip blogger looking for clicks.

This was deliberate. Precise.

And as soon as the thought forms, the answer clicks into place, sharp and cold.

I grab my phone from the locked drawer and click on the article link. I scroll to find a name. The author of the article.

Eva Costa

E, my so-called friend from Clive and Associates.

The polished, smiling shark who always knew exactly where the cracks were and how to exploit them when the moment was right.

My pulse rockets.

My fingers tighten into fists at my sides. This is her style.

It’s her goddamn signature all over this betrayal.

I don’t think. I just hit call.

She picks up on the second ring, smooth as silk.

“Well, that was fast.”

My throat burns.

“Why would you run this story? Why now?”

There’s no hesitation. No apology.

“Because people need to know who the Marchettis really are. What they’ve buried. What they stole from my family.”

The venom laced through her words slices clean through me.

I grip the edge of my desk until my knuckles turn white.

“You used me. You pretended to be my friend.”

Eva lets out a brittle, biting laugh that cuts through me sharper than any words could.

“You let yourself be used. You were so desperate to crawl your way back up, you didn’t even care whose shoulders you were standing on.” She pauses, like she's savoring the final blow. “You think you’re different from them, Sophie? You’re just another pawn. Another mouthpiece.”

“I’m nothing like them.”

“No?” Her voice dips, low and deadly. “Tell that to the baby you’re carrying while the world thinks you're just another poor, stupid girl he knocked up and left behind.”

The line goes dead before I can scream back.

I sit there, staring at my reflection in the black mirror of my dead phone screen, my fury and heartbreak clawing so hard at my chest I’m not sure if it’s anger or if I’m about to shatter completely.

The door bangs open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

Denver storms in, his face a storm cloud.

“You’re pregnant?” His voice is sharp enough to cut.

I stiffen. My body goes rigid.

“Yes.”

His jaw clenches so tight the muscle ticks in his cheek.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I was going to…”

Denver runs a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal.

I flinch at the sharpness of his movements, my heart pounding against my chest.

“Jesus, Sophie. I just found out from an investor who read about it in a goddamn tabloid.” His voice rises with every word.

I sit there, swallowing back the knot in my throat. I can’t even defend myself.

“I should’ve seen this coming. I knew that son of a bitch was going to break your heart. I knew it.”

The words hit like another slap.

It’s not fair because it's not all Alessio’s fault.

But I don’t have the strength to fight for him, or for myself.

After a long, heavy silence, Denver scrubs a hand over his face and exhales hard. His voice softens, but the anger still simmers underneath.

“You’re taking an early leave. Effective immediately. I’ll handle the rest of the merger.”

I nod, numb.

There’s no fight left in me.

Only the hollow ache of everything slipping through my fingers.

I don’t remember driving home.

It’s all a blur, the streets, the stoplights, the people laughing on sidewalks like the world hasn’t ended.

I step inside the apartment, shut the door quietly behind me, and lean back against it like it’s the only thing holding me upright.

The article flashes behind my eyelids.

Eva’s voice snakes through my mind.

Denver’s disappointment slams through my chest like a wrecking ball.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the tidal wave.

It was supposed to be different.

I was supposed to be stronger this time.

My fingers tremble as I pull out my phone.

I don’t know why I do it. Self-destruction, maybe… But I open the article again.

Left his pregnant girlfriend behind.

The words punch straight through me.

And the worst part, the part that makes bile crawl up the back of my throat?

I don’t know if it’s a lie.

He didn't know this was going to happen. He thought he was protecting me. Is he just as lost as I am?

I close my eyes and press the phone to my chest, willing the ache to stop.

I shouldn’t still want to believe him. But I do.

I still love him. God, I still love him.

But love isn't enough if you're the only one standing in the wreckage.

I trace my stomach with trembling fingers. Maybe someday, I’ll tell our baby the whole story. How love isn’t perfect. How sometimes the people you love the most are the ones who break you wide open. And how sometimes, even then... it’s still worth it.

My phone buzzes in my hand, jolting me.

I glance down.

Alessio.

For one wild second, my heart leaps.

I almost answer. Almost.

But the ache is too raw, the betrayal too fresh.

I let it go to voicemail, clutching the phone like it might burn a hole straight through my palm.

A minute later, curiosity wins.

I play his message.

"Sophie, please... it’s me. I know what’s out there.

I know what you’re seeing. The pictures, the girls, it’s bullshit.

You know me better than that. Eva’s not getting away with this.

I’m not letting her mess with my family.

I’ll fix this, dolcezza . I swear to you.

God help me, I'll make things right. I love you. I love you and our baby more than anything in this fucking world. And I’m coming back. Just... hold on for me. Please."

His voice is ragged. Apologizing. Seeking revenge.

Tears blur my vision.

I swipe to call him back, my hands shaking.

It rings once. Twice. Then straight to voicemail.

I stare at the screen, my heart cracking open all over again.

Too late. Always too late.

I curl up on the couch, pulling the blanket tight around me like armor.

The apartment feels cavernous and cold, too big without him. Without his laugh echoing down the hallway. Without his scent clinging to the air.

I press my hand to my belly.

"I’m doing my best. I swear I am."

But even as I say it, my gut twists.

I glance toward the darkened window, a shiver crawling up my spine.

If Eva’s this angry…

If she’s willing to burn down everything just to make a point… What else is coming?