DANTE’S POV The silence in the office was deafening.
Gabriela took a deep breath, her chest heaving, as her hands slowly moved away from my jacket, sensing the sudden change in the environment.
“What did you say?” I asked—almost a whisper, expressionless.
“I’m pregnant,” she repeated, her voice low this time, though her chin held high.
“It’s been two months.
After the night you went to the apartment to get your things…
We slept together.
I wasn’t feeling well after a few weeks, so I went for a checkup and it turns out that I’m pregnant.” I laughed harshly.
“Is this the new strategy?
Pretend to be pregnant to manipulate me and get me back?” Her face shook with anger.
“Why would I lie about that?” “Because you’re desperate, you can’t be trusted and most of all you’re a manipulator!” My hands shook with the need to hit something so I shoved them in my pockets to hide my reaction.
“I knew you would say that,” she whispered.
She suddenly turned and walked over to the sofa where she kept her purse.
My mind raced, dates, timelines, and probabilities running through my mind.
Two months had passed.
The night I signed the property settlement agreement.
We had had too much whiskey, argued for hours, and ended up falling to the floor.
A stupid, desperate mistake born of bitter nostalgia—something I hated myself for as I walked out the door.
Gabriela dug into her purse, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and walked back to me.
Without a word, she shoved it into my chest.
I caught it before it hit the floor.
It was an official lab report, with a rough black-and-white ultrasound image stapled to the corner.
I felt my stomach drop to the floor.
“Whose child is this?” SLAP!
The sound of a blow echoed through the silent room.
My head snapped to the side, my left cheek stinging from the blow.
I didn’t raise my hand to my face.
I turned around, slowly, and looked at her with contempt.
“How dare you,” she whispered, voice shaking with absolute fury.
“You think you can act like this when I come here to tell you that you’re going to be a father?” “We slept together once in six months, Gabriela,” I said, tone low and venomous.
“Forgive me if I don’t jump for joy when the woman who cheated on me claims the child is mine.” “I haven’t been with anyone else since that night!” She placed her hand protectively over her stomach, and my eyes followed the movement.
“I cut him off the night you caught us.
I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.” “How very convincing.” “I’m telling you the truth, Dante,” she pleaded, anger draining away, replaced by raw desperation.
“It’s yours.” “I want a paternity test.” Gabriela went rigid, hurt flashing deep across her face.
“You can’t do a full paternity test this early.
We’d just have to wait until the baby’s born.” I stared down at the sonogram.
The dark, blurry image blurred even further as my brain refused to process reality.
A kid.
With her.
After the whole foundation had already burnt to the ground.
“Have you told anyone?” She shook her head.
“No.
I wanted you to be the first to know.” “Good.
Keep it that way,” I said, handing the paper back to her.
“Don’t say a word to my parents until I give the order.
Understood?” “Dante, please—” A sharp, double-knock cut through the room.
Before she could finish, the door opened just enough for Fernando to pop his head in.
Expression tight.
Jaw set.
“Need you outside,” Fernando said flatly.
“Now.” I glanced at Gabriela.
Red-rimmed eyes, ruined makeup, looking smaller than she ever had in those expensive clothes she wore like armor.
“We’ll finish this later,” I said, already moving for the exit.
I didn’t wait for a response.
I stepped into the hall and pulled the study door shut behind me, leaning against the wall for three short seconds just to force air into my lungs.
“You okay?” Fernando asked as we headed down the grand staircase.
“I’m fine.” A total lie, and he knew it.
He didn’t bother calling me out.
He pulled his phone from his pocket as we reached the bottom floor.
“She’s moving again.
Stopped briefly at a diner on Old Docks Road, but her signal is holding steady heading south now.” My chest tightened.
The heavy fog of the study cleared instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp spike of adrenaline.
“Send the live location now.” “Already done.” He stopped near the entryway, watching as I snatched my leather jacket off the rack and pulled my bike keys from the side bowl.
“Wait—you’re leaving right now?
What about her?” He jerked his thumb toward the ceiling.
“Take care of her until I get back,” I said, throwing the jacket over my shoulder.
“Don’t let her leave, and don’t let her near my phone lines.” Fernando’s mouth fell open.
“Are you fucking kidding me?
Now I have to deal with your lover and your brother at the same time?” He threw his hands up in utter disbelief.
“Fuck my life.” “Track my signal,” I said, ignoring his griping as I grabbed my helmet off the shelf.
“Send backup if I don’t check in within the hour.” Fernando looked at me in silent astonishment, shaking his head.
“She really did a number on you, didn’t she?” I didn’t answer.
I slammed the heavy front door, muffling his voice, and stepped out into the freezing night air.
The cold pierced my lungs as I straddled the motorcycle.
I inserted the key, revved the engine, and listened to it roar, shattering the absolute silence of the snow-covered estate.
I kicked up the stand, accelerated, and sped down the driveway.
The winter wind whipped against my helmet, but I welcomed the bite with relief.
My mind was a mess—Gabriela, the baby, my grandmother in her hospital bed—but as the kilometers flew by beneath my tires, everything narrowed down to a single point.
Cara.
I rode fast, ignoring the slippery patches, until the industrial silhouette of the docks loomed against the dark sky.
Rusty containers, gloomy warehouses, gigantic cranes.
I cut the engine a block away from the location, letting the bike coast into an alley.
I tore off my helmet and pulled out my phone.
The red dot was blinking right at the entrance to a narrow passageway, just ahead.
I got off the bike, careful not to make a sound on the wet asphalt.
The damp air was thick with the smell of salt water and diesel.
I reached the corner of a brick wall, pressing my back against it, ready to turn the bend…
“Let go of me!” A high-pitched voice.
Urgent.
Instantly recognizable.
Something stirred deep inside me.
I rounded the corner in two long strides.
A few meters away, in the alley, Cara was pinned against the wall.
A guy as big as me had a brutal grip on her wrist, while his other hand was reaching for her face.
No warning.
No screams.
I closed the distance in seconds, drawing my weapon in one fluid motion.
Before the bastard even had time to turn his head, I chambered a round and pressed the steel barrel right against his temple.
“Let her go.”