Chapter 2: He Sent His Bodyguards to Bring Me Home, but the Mafia Boss Who Protected Me Knew the Truth About His Mistress
At 6:17 the next morning, my husband sent six armed men to bring me home.
At 6:23, those men discovered that the building where I was hiding belonged to Adrian DeLuca.
And at 6:31, the most feared mafia boss in New York called Vittorio Caruso and delivered a warning that would change both our lives.
“Your wife is under my protection now.”
I didn't hear those words myself.
I was sitting in Evelyn Hart's private office, staring at a photograph that had been taken twenty-two years earlier.
In the picture, my father stood beside Vittorio's father, both men smiling in front of a newly purchased cargo ship.
Behind them stood a stranger whose face looked painfully familiar.
The resemblance to Lorenzo Caruso was unmistakable.
Same dark eyes.
Same narrow nose.
Same small scar near the left eyebrow.
But the photograph had been taken when Lorenzo was supposedly twelve years old.
The man standing behind my father looked at least thirty.
And according to Evelyn, he was the key to a secret that had already cost one man his life.
My father's.
“Tell me who he is,” I whispered.
Evelyn stood beside the desk, her silver hair pulled into a loose knot.
“Sophia, you need to understand something before I answer.”
I looked up.
“I'm tired of people telling me what I need to understand.”
She flinched.
I immediately regretted my tone, but I didn't apologize.
Not because Evelyn deserved my anger.
Because I had spent six years apologizing whenever my feelings made someone uncomfortable.
I wasn't going to do that anymore.
“Last night,” I continued, “my husband announced that his mistress was carrying his heir in front of three hundred people. Then I discovered that my father may have been murdered, that someone has been hiding my inheritance, and that my husband's brother may be involved.”
My voice trembled.
“I'm eleven weeks pregnant, Evelyn. I haven't slept. I haven't eaten anything except half a piece of toast. And somebody apparently wants me dead before my birthday.”
I pointed at the photograph.
“So please, just tell me who that man is.”
Evelyn lowered herself into the chair opposite me.
“His name was Salvatore Moretti.”
I stared at her.
“Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“Bianca's last name?”
Evelyn nodded.
My stomach tightened.
“What does he have to do with Lorenzo?”
“Salvatore was Bianca's father.”
I looked back at the photograph.
“And he looks exactly like Lorenzo.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Because Salvatore was also Lorenzo's biological father.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I shook my head.
“No. Lorenzo is Vittorio's brother.”
“He was raised as Vittorio's brother.”
I stared at her.
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
I pressed a hand against my forehead.
“Are you telling me Bianca and Lorenzo are related?”
“Half-siblings, according to the records your father preserved.”
I felt physically ill.
The photograph Evelyn had shown me the night before flashed through my mind.
Lorenzo standing outside a Manhattan restaurant.
His hand resting against Bianca's waist.
The closeness between them.
The secrecy.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Then why were they meeting?”
“I don't know exactly. But I don't believe their relationship is romantic.”
I exhaled shakily.
“Does Bianca know?”
“We believe she does.”
“And Vittorio?”
Evelyn's expression darkened.
“I doubt it.”
I looked toward the window.
Morning sunlight was beginning to touch the buildings across the street.
The city looked ordinary.
People were going to work.
Coffee shops were opening.
Delivery trucks were moving through traffic.
And somewhere in Westchester, my husband's entire family history was beginning to unravel.
“Why would Salvatore's son be raised as a Caruso?” I asked.
Evelyn folded her hands.
“Because Vittorio's father owed Salvatore a debt.”
“What kind of debt?”
“The kind powerful men don't put in writing.”
I gave her a tired look.
“Evelyn.”
She sighed.
“Twenty-five years ago, the Caruso shipping organization was nearly destroyed by a federal investigation. Salvatore helped protect several important assets. In return, the family agreed to raise his infant son under the Caruso name.”
“Lorenzo.”
“Yes.”
“And Salvatore's daughter?”
“Bianca was born years later, after Salvatore had left New York.”
I stared at the photograph again.
“Where is Salvatore now?”
Evelyn's expression changed.
“He disappeared nineteen years ago.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“Like my father?”
She nodded slowly.
A chill traveled down my spine.
Two missing men.
One hidden inheritance.
One family built on secrets.
And my husband had just publicly declared that the daughter of one of those missing men was carrying his child.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Do you think Bianca is really pregnant?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you think the baby is Vittorio's?”
She hesitated.
“That is one of the questions Adrian has been investigating.”
I looked down at my stomach.
For the first time since the gala, I felt something other than heartbreak.
Fear.
Not for myself.
For my baby.
Because if someone had spent years hiding the truth about the Caruso family, there was no reason to believe they would stop simply because I was pregnant.
At 6:23 a.m., the receptionist called Evelyn's private line.
Her expression changed as she listened.
Then she looked at me.
“Sophia, stay here.”
My heart began pounding.
“What's wrong?”
“Some men are downstairs.”
“What men?”
She covered the receiver.
“Caruso security.”
I stood immediately.
“How many?”
“Six.”
My stomach tightened.
“Vittorio sent them.”
Evelyn nodded.
The receptionist continued speaking.
Evelyn listened, then said, “Tell them this is a private legal office and they have no permission to enter.”
She ended the call.
I stared at her.
“What happens if they refuse?”
Evelyn reached for another phone.
“Then they discover that this building has security of its own.”
She dialed a number.
A man answered almost immediately.
“Evelyn.”
“Adrian, they're here.”
A pause.
“How many?”
“Six.”
“Armed?”
“Almost certainly.”
Another pause.
Then the man's voice became cold.
“Put Sophia somewhere secure.”
I stepped forward.
“Who is that?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Adrian DeLuca.”
My pulse accelerated.
I had heard his name for years.
Adrian was thirty-nine, the head of the DeLuca organization, and one of the few men Vittorio treated as an equal.
Their families had controlled different parts of New York's waterfront for decades.
Sometimes they cooperated.
Sometimes they competed.
But neither trusted the other.
Vittorio once told me Adrian was dangerous because he never raised his voice.
“He doesn't need to,” my husband had said. “By the time he speaks, he's already decided what happens next.”
I had never met him.
Not once.
And now he was apparently the only man willing to stop Vittorio from bringing me home.
Evelyn ended the call.
“He's coming upstairs.”
I stared at her.
“Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants to speak to you.”
I swallowed.
“About what?”
Evelyn looked toward the photograph on her desk.
“Your father.”
Adrian DeLuca entered the office seven minutes later.
He was taller than I expected.
Broad-shouldered without being bulky, with dark hair combed neatly back and a short beard that sharpened the angles of his face.
He wore a charcoal suit over a black shirt, no tie.
A silver watch rested against his wrist.
There were faint tattoos visible beneath one cuff.
He didn't look like the theatrical gangsters I had seen in movies.
He looked like a man who had learned that the most dangerous person in a room was often the quietest.
His eyes found me immediately.
“Sophia Bellini.”
I stood.
“Adrian DeLuca.”
He inclined his head.
“I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
His voice was low.
Controlled.
Surprisingly gentle.
I crossed my arms.
“Did you tell Vittorio I'm under your protection?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because his men arrived at a private law office and demanded access to you.”
I stared at him.
“That doesn't answer my question.”
For a moment, something like amusement flickered across his face.
“No,” he admitted. “It doesn't.”
He looked toward Evelyn.
“May I speak freely?”
She nodded.
Adrian turned back to me.
“Your father saved my mother's life.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Twenty-one years ago, my mother was trapped in a financial dispute involving several waterfront companies. Your father discovered that someone was using her name to conceal stolen assets.”
I frowned.
“What happened?”
“He helped her prove she had been framed.”
I swallowed.
“My father never mentioned your family.”
Adrian's expression softened.
“He had reasons to be careful.”
I looked down.
My father had been a quiet man.
Kind.
Patient.
The kind of person who remembered birthdays and sent flowers to people who had forgotten him.
I had always believed his business life was ordinary.
Now I was learning that he had spent years surrounded by dangerous people.
Adrian continued.
“Before he disappeared, he asked my mother to make him a promise.”
I looked up.
“What promise?”
“If his daughter ever needed protection, our family would provide it.”
My throat tightened.
I couldn't speak.
Adrian reached into his jacket.
For one terrifying second, I stiffened.
He noticed.
Slowly, he withdrew an envelope.
He placed it on Evelyn's desk.
“This belongs to you.”
I stared at it.
My name was written across the front.
Not Sophia Caruso.
Sophia Bellini.
In my father's handwriting.
My knees nearly gave way.
Evelyn moved toward me.
“Sophia?”
I reached for the envelope.
My fingers trembled.
“How long have you had this?”
Adrian's expression became serious.
“My mother kept it until she died. I found it among her papers two years ago.”
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Because the instructions were specific.”
I looked up.
“What instructions?”
“Your father said it was to be delivered only if someone tried to take your inheritance.”
I stared at him.
“And you think that's happening?”
Adrian nodded.
“Yes.”
I slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
And a small brass key.
The letter began:
My darling Sophia,
If you're reading this, it means the people I trusted have finally shown you who they are.
My vision blurred.
I pressed my lips together.
Then continued.
I wish I could be there to explain everything.
I wish I could tell you that the world is fair and that good people always win.
But you are my daughter, and I know you will discover the truth even when others try to hide it.
I wiped my eyes.
There is something you must understand.
The Caruso empire was never built by one family.
It was built by two.
And half the men who now call themselves kings are standing on foundations your mother and I helped create.
I stopped reading.
My heart pounded.
Then I continued.
The key opens a deposit box registered under your mother's maiden name.
Inside are the original ownership agreements and the records that prove what happened to me.
Do not trust anyone who tells you your inheritance depends on your marriage.
It does not.
It belongs to you.
And one day, it will belong to your children.
I covered my mouth.
The final line nearly broke me.
Whatever happens, sweetheart, never confuse being loved with being owned.
Dad.
For several minutes, I couldn't speak.
Adrian stood quietly.
Evelyn placed a hand on my shoulder.
I stared at the brass key.
Then whispered, “He knew.”
Adrian nodded.
“He knew someone would come after the shares.”
I looked at him.
“Did he know who killed him?”
Adrian's expression darkened.
“We believe he did.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Adrian hesitated.
Then said, “The man who ordered your father's death is still sitting on the Caruso family council.”
I felt cold all over.
“Who?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“Giovanni Caruso.”
I stopped breathing.
Vittorio's uncle.
The man who had walked me down the aisle because my father was gone.
The man who kissed my forehead every Christmas.
The man who called me principessa.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Adrian's expression remained grave.
“I'm sorry.”
I stepped backward.
“Giovanni loved my father.”
“That's what he wanted people to believe.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“And Vittorio?”
Adrian hesitated.
“I don't believe Vittorio knew the truth.”
I looked down.
For the first time since the gala, I felt something dangerously close to relief.
Not because Vittorio was innocent.
He had betrayed me.
Humiliated me.
Abandoned me emotionally long before I walked away.
But the thought that he might have knowingly married the daughter of a man his family murdered had been almost unbearable.
Adrian watched me carefully.
“You still love him.”
I looked up sharply.
“That's none of your business.”
He nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Then he said something I didn't expect.
“Loving someone doesn't obligate you to return to them.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“And carrying his child doesn't mean he gets to decide where you live.”
My throat tightened.
For six years, everyone around me had treated Vittorio's wishes as law.
Adrian DeLuca was the first powerful man I had met who seemed to understand that my wishes mattered too.
At 8:04 a.m., Vittorio called again.
This time, I answered.
“Sophia.”
His voice was rough.
I closed my eyes.
“Vittorio.”
“Are you with Adrian DeLuca?”
I looked across the room.
Adrian stood near the window, speaking quietly with Evelyn.
“Yes.”
A long silence.
Then Vittorio said, “Get away from him.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“No.”
“Sophia, you don't understand who he is.”
“I understand exactly who he is.”
“He's my enemy.”
I took a breath.
“That doesn't automatically make him mine.”
Vittorio went silent.
Then his voice hardened.
“He's using you.”
I looked at Adrian.
He noticed my expression but didn't interrupt.
“Maybe,” I said. “But he's the one who gave me my father's letter.”
Silence.
“What letter?”
I swallowed.
“The one explaining that my father helped build the Caruso shipping empire.”
Vittorio said nothing.
“And that someone in your family may have murdered him.”
His breathing changed.
“Sophia—”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you know my father owned forty percent of the original holding company?”
Another silence.
Then Vittorio whispered, “What?”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, I believed he might genuinely be surprised.
But surprise didn't erase betrayal.
“Your brother knows,” I said.
Vittorio's voice changed.
“What did Lorenzo tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then how do you know—”
“Because I have documents, Vittorio.”
He went silent.
I continued.
“Documents your family apparently hoped I would never see.”
His breathing grew heavier.
“Sophia, listen to me carefully. Lorenzo has been lying to me.”
I stared at the phone.
“About what?”
“I don't know everything yet.”
“Then find out.”
“Sophia—”
“No.”
My voice became firm.
“You don't get to send armed men to bring me home while you figure out which members of your family are trying to steal from me.”
He exhaled shakily.
“I sent them because I was worried.”
“You sent them because you were losing control.”
The silence that followed was painful.
Then Vittorio whispered, “Maybe you're right.”
I closed my eyes.
It was the first time he had admitted I might be right about anything in months.
But I wasn't ready to reward him for it.
“Vittorio, I'm filing for divorce.”
His breathing stopped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, “No.”
I looked down at my stomach.
“Yes.”
“Sophia, please.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I'm not doing this to punish you.”
“Then why?”
“Because I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to remember that I'm your wife.”
He made a broken sound.
“Sophia—”
“You chose Bianca.”
“I made a mistake.”
I almost laughed.
“A mistake is forgetting our anniversary.”
My voice trembled.
“A mistake is missing a phone call.”
I swallowed.
“Standing in front of three hundred people and announcing your mistress is carrying your heir isn't a mistake, Vittorio. It's a decision.”
He said nothing.
“And so was letting me walk away.”
His voice broke.
“I know.”
For a moment, I wanted to cry.
I wanted him to tell me he loved me.
I wanted him to beg.
I wanted him to promise everything would be different.
But I had spent too many years living on promises.
“Goodbye, Vittorio.”
I ended the call.
Then I placed the phone on the desk.
Adrian looked at me.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then we won't pretend otherwise.”
Something about that simple answer made me cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly, with my hands covering my face.
Evelyn moved beside me.
Adrian stepped toward the door.
“I'll give you some privacy.”
I looked up.
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
“Thank you.”
He inclined his head.
“You don't owe me anything, Sophia.”
Then he left.
By noon, the first photograph appeared online.
It showed me entering Evelyn's office beside Adrian DeLuca.
The headline read:
MAFIA BOSS'S PREGNANT WIFE SEEKS REFUGE WITH HUSBAND'S RIVAL AFTER PUBLIC HUMILIATION.
My stomach tightened.
Evelyn stared at the screen.
“Someone leaked this.”
I looked at the photograph.
It had been taken from across the street.
The angle was deliberate.
The timing precise.
“Vittorio?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I don't think so.”
“Then who?”
Adrian entered the office.
His expression was grim.
“Lorenzo.”
I looked up.
“How do you know?”
“Because the same photograph was sent to three reporters within six minutes.”
I frowned.
“And?”
“All three received it from a public relations firm connected to a company Lorenzo controls.”
My heart pounded.
“What does he want?”
Adrian looked at me.
“To make Vittorio believe you're betraying him.”
I stared at the headline.
“And why would that help Lorenzo?”
Adrian's expression darkened.
“Because if Vittorio turns against you, he'll stop asking questions about Bianca.”
I looked down at my stomach.
Then back at him.
“What questions?”
Adrian hesitated.
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Adrian.”
He looked at her.
Then back at me.
“Sophia, Bianca's pregnancy is real.”
My chest tightened.
I nodded slowly.
“But?”
Adrian took a breath.
“Her medical timeline doesn't match what Vittorio was told.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she was already pregnant before the relationship she described to Vittorio began.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered, “Whose baby is it?”
Adrian shook his head.
“We don't know. And we won't know without reliable evidence.”
I looked away.
Part of me wanted to feel satisfaction.
The possibility that Vittorio had been deceived should have made me happy.
But it didn't.
Because another child was involved.
Another innocent baby.
And I knew exactly how it felt to have adults turn a pregnancy into a weapon.
“What does Lorenzo have to do with it?” I asked.
Adrian's expression became serious.
“We believe he's using Bianca's pregnancy to secure Vittorio's public acknowledgment of an heir.”
I frowned.
“But why?”
“Because Giovanni has been trying to change the succession arrangements for months.”
My pulse accelerated.
“And my pregnancy?”
Adrian looked at my stomach.
“Complicates everything.”
I swallowed.
“How?”
“Your child may have rights under the original trust. Rights Giovanni has been trying to eliminate.”
The room fell silent.
Then Adrian said something that made my blood run cold.
“That's why we need to move you somewhere safer.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
“A private residence outside the city.”
I shook my head.
“I'm not hiding in another mafia boss's mansion.”
Adrian studied me.
Then nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He looked toward Evelyn.
“We can arrange independent security at a location Sophia chooses.”
I stared at him.
“You'd do that?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking for anything?”
“Yes.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Why?”
For the first time, his expression softened.
“Because your father once helped my family when he had nothing to gain.”
He paused.
“And because you deserve the chance to make your own decisions without a man standing over you.”
I looked away.
My throat tightened.
I wasn't accustomed to powerful men speaking to me that way.
Not anymore.
At 2:17 p.m., we left Evelyn's office through a private underground garage.
Adrian had arranged two vehicles.
No visible weapons.
No dramatic convoy.
Just discreet security and a driver who didn't ask questions.
I sat in the back of the second car with Evelyn.
Adrian traveled ahead.
We were heading toward a small private residence in Connecticut, one that Evelyn had used for clients who needed temporary privacy.
I watched the city disappear behind us.
My phone rested in my lap.
There were twenty-three missed calls from Vittorio.
Four messages from his mother.
Seven from Bianca.
I opened Bianca's messages first.
The first read:
Sophia, we need to talk.
The second:
I never wanted things to happen this way.
The third:
Please don't believe everything Adrian tells you.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Lorenzo is dangerous.
My pulse accelerated.
A fifth message arrived.
He knows about your baby.
I stopped breathing.
I looked toward Evelyn.
“Something's wrong.”
She turned.
“What?”
I showed her the phone.
Her expression changed.
Then another message appeared.
Sophia, please listen to me. Giovanni has someone following you.
My stomach tightened.
I looked through the rear window.
Traffic moved steadily behind us.
A black SUV followed at a distance.
I hadn't noticed it before.
Then Bianca sent one final message.
Don't go to Connecticut.
I stared at the words.
My blood turned cold.
How did she know where we were going?
I looked at Evelyn.
“Call Adrian.”
She reached for her phone.
But before she could dial, the driver spoke.
“Ma'am?”
I looked toward the front.
“Yes?”
His voice had changed.
“There's a vehicle behind us that's been matching our turns.”
Evelyn went pale.
“How long?”
“Since we left the city.”
My heart began pounding.
Then the black SUV accelerated.
It moved into the lane beside us.
The rear passenger window lowered.
I saw a man.
Dark hair.
Black jacket.
Something metallic in his hand.
The driver shouted, “Get down!”
Evelyn grabbed my arm.
I ducked.
A sharp crack split the air.
The rear window shattered.
Glass sprayed across the seat.
I screamed.
The driver swerved.
Tires shrieked.
Another crack.
Then another.
The car lurched violently.
My shoulder struck the door.
Pain shot through my side.
I pressed both hands against my stomach.
My baby.
My baby.
“Stay down!” Evelyn shouted.
The driver accelerated.
The SUV followed.
I heard another impact against the rear of our car.
Then the sound of metal scraping.
The vehicle spun.
For one terrifying second, the world tilted sideways.
I saw the road.
The sky.
A concrete barrier.
Then everything slammed to a stop.
Silence.
A terrible ringing filled my ears.
I couldn't move.
My chest hurt.
My hands were shaking.
I looked down.
There was blood on my sleeve.
Not much.
But enough to make me panic.
“Evelyn?”
No answer.
I turned.
She was slumped against the seat belt.
Her eyes were closed.
“Evelyn!”
She groaned.
Relief flooded through me.
Then I heard footsteps outside.
A car door slammed.
Someone shouted.
I looked through the broken window.
Two men were approaching.
One carried a gun.
My heart stopped.
I reached for my phone.
The screen was cracked.
But it still worked.
I called Vittorio.
I didn't think.
I didn't hesitate.
I simply pressed his name.
He answered immediately.
“Sophia?”
My voice broke.
“Vittorio.”
His tone changed.
“What happened?”
I looked through the shattered window.
The men were getting closer.
“Someone's trying to kill me.”
Silence.
Then his voice became deadly calm.
“Where are you?”
I tried to speak.
But my throat tightened.
“Sophia.”
I began crying.
“Please.”
His voice broke.
“Baby, listen to me. Tell me where you are.”
I looked toward the road sign beyond the barrier.
“Interstate ninety-five.”
“Where?”
“Near the Connecticut line.”
He shouted something to someone nearby.
Then returned to the phone.
“Stay with me.”
The men reached the car.
One pulled at the door handle.
Locked.
He struck the window with the butt of his gun.
I screamed.
“Vittorio!”
“I hear you.”
The man hit the glass again.
It cracked.
“Vittorio, please!”
His voice was shaking now.
“I'm coming.”
Then another vehicle approached.
Tires screeched.
A black sedan stopped across the road.
A man stepped out.
Tall.
Dark suit.
Black shirt.
Adrian DeLuca.
He looked toward our damaged car.
Then toward the armed men.
“Step away from her.”
His voice carried across the highway.
The men turned.
One raised his weapon.
Adrian's security team emerged from the second vehicle.
Within seconds, the attackers retreated toward their SUV.
One of Adrian's men shouted for them to stop.
They ignored him.
The SUV accelerated away.
Adrian didn't chase it.
He came directly to my door.
“Sophia.”
I stared at him through the broken glass.
He lowered himself beside the car.
“Look at me.”
My hands were shaking.
“I can't—”
“Yes, you can.”
His voice was calm.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don't know.”
“Is Evelyn conscious?”
I looked at her.
She groaned again.
“Yes.”
Adrian nodded.
“Good. Help is coming.”
I pressed my hands against my stomach.
“My baby.”
His expression changed.
“Are you bleeding?”
“I don't know.”
He looked toward my lap.
Then back at me.
“Don't move until the paramedics assess you.”
I began crying.
Adrian placed his hand against the outside of the door.
“Stay with me, Sophia.”
I stared at him.
He didn't touch me.
Didn't make promises he couldn't keep.
He simply remained there.
Then my phone crackled.
Vittorio.
“Sophia?”
I lifted it with trembling fingers.
“I'm here.”
His voice broke.
“Thank God.”
I closed my eyes.
“Adrian found us.”
Silence.
Then Vittorio said something I never expected.
“Put him on.”
I handed the phone through the broken window.
Adrian took it.
“Caruso.”
I watched his expression.
Vittorio spoke.
I couldn't hear the words.
Adrian looked toward me.
Then he said, “She's alive. The paramedics are on their way.”
Another pause.
“No. You don't get to bring a convoy here.”
He listened.
Then his expression hardened.
“Because whoever attacked her knew her route.”
My stomach tightened.
Adrian continued.
“And until we know who leaked it, I won't allow anyone connected to your organization near her.”
Another pause.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Vittorio, your wife wasn't attacked because she left you.”
He looked directly at me.
“She was attacked because someone discovered she's carrying the rightful heir to forty percent of your empire.”
I stopped breathing.
Adrian listened for several seconds.
Then his voice dropped.
“And if you want to know who ordered it, start with the man who arranged Bianca's pregnancy announcement.”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Adrian's expression became grave.
He looked toward the approaching ambulance.
Then back at me.
“Giovanni Caruso.”
My heart stopped.
Vittorio's uncle.
The man who had walked me down the aisle.
The man who had kissed my forehead and called me family.
The man who had apparently ordered my father's murder.
And now, according to Adrian, he had sent armed men after me.
I pressed my hands against my stomach.
The ambulance doors opened.
Paramedics hurried toward the car.
Adrian stepped aside.
But before they reached me, my phone vibrated.
A new message.
Unknown number.
I looked down.
It contained a photograph.
Taken only seconds earlier.
Me.
Inside the damaged car.
Blood on my sleeve.
Adrian standing beside the door.
Beneath the photograph were seven words.
Your father should have stayed out of this.
Then another message appeared.
And your baby won't survive the next attempt.
I stared at the screen.
My hands went numb.
Because suddenly I understood something far more terrifying than my husband's betrayal.
Someone had been watching us the entire time.
Someone who knew where we were going.
Someone who knew exactly how to hurt me.
May you like
And whoever it was had just made one thing perfectly clear.
They weren't finished.
