Page 94 of The Underboss's Secret Twins

I pick it up, turning it over in my palm, my decision already made.

I don’t want to do this. But I have to.

Mancini is still out there, and until I eliminate him, I can’t afford any surprises. Not with my family at risk. Not with Sofia—so fucking reckless, so stubborn—thinking she can handle things on her own.

She’ll fight me if she finds out. She’ll hate me for it.

But I’d rather have her hate me and be alive than keep her trust and lose her.

It takes me less than two minutes—too easy, really, since Sofia refuses to put a lock on her phone. I shake my head; she calls it inconvenient, but all I see is recklessness.

A simple tracking app. Discreet. Undetectable.

A necessary precaution.

I set her phone back down exactly where it was, my gaze lingering on her as I sink back onto the bed, pulling her against me again.

She exhales softly, instinctively tucking herself into my chest.

I wrap my arms around her.

Hold her close.

And as I breathe her in, as I feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat against mine, I know one thing for certain.

Nothing will stop me from keeping her safe.

23

SOFIA

The phone call comes in right at eight in the morning.

I lie still, staring at the ceiling as the soft buzz vibrates against the nightstand. My pulse pounds, a deep, insistent drumbeat in my ears. I already know what they’re going to say. I’ve known since the moment my body started betraying me—since the nausea crept in, since exhaustion started sinking into my bones like lead.

Still, hearing it aloud makes it real in a way I’m not ready for.

I force my voice to stay steady as I answer.

"Miss De Luca?" The voice on the other end is calm, clinical, completely unaware that their next words will splinter my world apart. "The results are in."

I close my eyes.

I grip the sheet beneath me, anchoring myself as I wait.

"You’re in the early stages of pregnancy."

Everything slows. My heartbeat, the air in my lungs, the light spilling through the curtains. A strange, cold weight settles in my chest, numbing everything but the single, undeniable truth.

I am pregnant.

I thank the doctor in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine, and when I end the call, I lay there, unmoving, staring at the cracks in the ceiling like they hold the answers to the storm in my head.

This changes everything.

I press a trembling hand to my stomach, but there’s nothing to feel, no sign of the life growing inside me. There’s no proof except the quiet knowledge that has been in my bones for weeks now.

I don’t know how long I stay there before I hear the familiar sound of footsteps outside my door—firm, measured, unmistakably Marco’s. A wave of nausea rises up, but I push it down, steadying my breath. I can’t let him see me like this.