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Chapter 3

The baby's first ultrasound was scheduled for Thursday at three. I went alone.

Dr. Sarah Voss's clinic was discreet—the kind of place where mobsters' wives and mistresses came to deal with inconvenient truths. She'd delivered half the heirs in the five families and took payment in cash. No questions asked. No records kept.

"Everything looks good," she said, her eyes on the monitor. "About twelve weeks along. Would you like to know the sex?"

I stared at the tiny shape on the screen, this life I'd created with a man I could no longer trust. "Not yet."

"Your blood pressure is elevated. Are you under stress?"

I almost laughed. Stress. What an inadequate word for the war zone my life had become.

"I'm managing."

Dr. Voss gave me that look—the one that said she'd seen this story play out a thousand times before. "Take care of yourself, Isabelle. That baby needs you."

I left the clinic with prenatal vitamins and a decision weighing on my chest like a stone. Keep the baby, stay trapped in this world. Terminate, and maybe find a sliver of freedom.

As I walked to my car, a familiar Maserati pulled up beside me.

Luca.

He stepped out, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His usually immaculate suit was wrinkled. But his eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—were laser-focused on me.

"Bella. We need to talk."

"We have nothing to discuss."

"Our child."

I froze. "How did you—"

"Marco told me about the appointment." He moved closer, and I hated how my body still responded to his proximity. "Let me explain. Please."

"There's nothing to explain. You betrayed me."

"I was protecting you!" His voice rose, desperation bleeding through his control. "The Romanos have been planning to wipe out both our families. Adriana was my way in. Everything I did, every moment with her, was to keep you safe."

"By fucking another woman?"

"I never slept with her."

The lie was so absurd I actually laughed. "I saw the photographs, Luca."

"Photographs can be staged. Manipulated." He pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. "Look. These are the real meetings. Business transactions. Evidence gathering. I was building a case to take to the commission, to prove the Romanos were violating the peace treaty."

I looked at the images he showed me—documents, ledgers, weapons shipments. But mixed in were still those intimate moments. His hand on her waist. Her lips near his ear.

"Even if I believed you," I said quietly, "you still chose to be with her. You still broke your vows."

"Because I had no choice! Because your brother and my father made it clear—end the Romano threat, or watch everyone we love die."

"So you used me. Made me believe our marriage was real."

"It is real!" He grabbed my arms, and I felt the tremor in his hands. "You're the only real thing in my life, Bella. The only person I've ever loved. I thought if I could just handle it quietly, quickly, you'd never have to know."

"But I do know. And I can't unknow it."

We stood there in the parking lot, two people who'd loved each other drowning in a sea of lies and blood and impossible choices.

"Come home," he whispered. "Please. Let me make this right."

"How? How do you make this right?"

"Let me prove it to you. Let me show you that everything I did was for us. For our family."

Our family. The words hung between us, heavy with promise and threat.

"I need time," I finally said.

"Time is a luxury we don't have. The Romanos know about the baby. They're planning something. I need you safe, behind compound walls."

Fear spiked through me. "What do you mean they know?"

"Adriana saw the doctor's report. She's using it as leverage." His grip tightened. "They want the heir, Bella. They want to merge the families under Romano control."

Before I could respond, a black SUV screeched into the parking lot. Four men poured out, guns drawn.

Romano soldiers.

Luca shoved me behind him, his own weapon appearing from beneath his jacket. "Get down!"

The first shot shattered the afternoon peace. Glass exploded from my car windows. Luca returned fire, his body a shield between me and the bullets.

"Run!" he shouted. "Get inside the clinic!"

But one of the soldiers was already behind us, blocking the entrance. I saw the gun barrel swing toward Luca's head.

Training took over—years of my father's lessons, of Marco's drills, of growing up in a world where survival meant action.

I grabbed the tactical pen from my purse and drove it into the soldier's neck. He went down gurgling, arterial spray painting the concrete.

Luca spun, shock and pride warring on his face. "Bella—"

Another shot. This one caught him in the shoulder. He stumbled, and in that moment, the lead Romano soldier rushed forward.

He slammed me against the hood of Luca's Maserati, the impact driving the air from my lungs. His forearm pressed against my throat, cutting off oxygen.

"Antonio Romano sends his regards," he hissed. "The baby dies with you."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My vision started to blur.

Then Luca was there, like an avenging angel drenched in his own blood. He fired three shots, each one finding its mark. The soldier collapsed.

But the momentum carried me backward. My body hit the car's edge at the wrong angle. Pain exploded through my abdomen—sharp, hot, consuming.

I looked down and saw red.

So much red.

"Bella!" Luca's scream seemed to come from far away. "No, no, no—"

He caught me as I fell, his hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding. The world tilted, sounds becoming muffled, distant.

"The baby," I whispered.

"Hold on. Please hold on. I'm calling an ambulance. You're going to be fine."

But I could see the truth in his eyes. The terror. The guilt.

As darkness crept in from the edges, my last conscious thought was of the choice that had been made for me.

The universe had decided.

And now...