Page 90 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

For a moment, we are both lost in the intensity of the moment, our bodies slick with exertion, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. I collapse onto her, careful not to crush her, and she holds me close, her arms a sanctuary I never want to leave.

As our hearts slowly return to a normal rhythm, I find her hand and intertwine our fingers, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. Our breaths sync, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself relax completely. There's no need for words, no need to break the silence with empty promises or anxious confessions. We've said everything we need to with our bodies.

Fantasia’s fingers trace absentminded patterns along my forearm, her breathing slow and steady. I can feel the moment her mind starts working again, spinning through whatever thought has just planted itself there.

Then, casually, I say, “So… you told Harold you were married to me, huh?”

She stiffens slightly, but when I glance down, there’s no real panic on her face. Just the hint of irritation, like she’s been caught in something she’d rather not discuss. “It was an attempt to get out of a sticky situation.”

I hum, pretending to consider this. Then I tighten my grip around her waist and smirk. “Yeah, well, I always knew you’d be my wife anyway. So no sense prolonging the inevitable.”

Fantasia scoffs, shifting beneath me, but she doesn’t protest.

Doesn’t correct me.

Doesn’t deny it.

I take that as a yes.

Chapter 44

Fantasia

The plane’s turbulence doesn’t even phase me. All I can think is “thank fucking God,” as I glance out the window and watch the sprawling landscape of Luxembourg fade into the distance.

Across the aisle, Arthur winces as the medic changes his bandage, though his eyes remain clear and alert. The bullet went clean through his shoulder- “a lucky break,” they said. Still, guilt gnaws at me. He took that shot protecting my daughter.

I shift my gaze to where Valeria sits between Piers and Desmond, her delighted giggles bubbling up as they entertain her with quiet games. Desmond taps her nose, earning a squeal, while Piers lets her wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb, murmuring something that makes her smile.

Soon, exhaustion wins out, and Valeria curls up against Piers’ chest, resting her small hand on his arm. I should let myself focus on that- the miracle of having her here, unharmed- but my mind keeps circling back. To Harold. To the fortune he walked away with. To the nagging certainty that this isn’t over.

When the wheels touch down at Heathrow, the energy shifts. Conversations start up as we unbuckle, everyone preparing to go their separate ways. As we make our way through the terminal, the hum of overhead announcements and rolling luggage fills the space.

Piers adjusts Valeria in his arms before turning to me. “She’s out,” he murmurs, carefully passing her over before joining Desmond, the twins exchanging a look only they understand as they say their goodbyes.

It’s only then, as we linger near the terminal’s exit, that I finally ask Achilles the question that’s been gnawing at me since we left Luxembourg.

“What happens to Harold now?” I keep my voice low as we linger near the terminal. “He’s out there, untouched, and richer than ever. What’s stopping him from doing this to someone else?”

Achilles exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Money like that won’t save him.” He pulls a cigarette from his pocket but doesn’t light it, just rolling it between his fingers. “Not from what’s coming.”

I frown. “And?”

“He’ll get a package soon. From Aunt Mary.”

I’ve only met the woman once, but it was enough to know that Harold is in deeper trouble than he realizes. The Ashwoods don’t forgive embarrassment. They erase it.

“And she’s making sure he understands just how much he’s disgraced the Ashwood name.” His lips curve into something sharp. “The package will include a letter. A broken crest. The final proof that he’s been cut off. But by the time he realizes what it truly means, it’ll be too late.”

I blink, processing. “Too late for what?”

Achilles goes still. “She’s going to level the estate. Once all the hostages are clear, there won’t be a single stone left standing. It’s rigged. Harold took his millions, but Aunt Mary’s ensuring he’ll never reclaim his place in the Ashwood legacy.”

I exhale through my nose, Valeria’s warmth seeping into my palms as I hold her closer. Harold may be cruel, cunning, a man who hoards power like oxygen—but even he couldn’t predict his own family’s vengeance. This isn’t just my victory. It’s his annihilation.

With that settled, we begin to part ways. Achilles and his men move toward the waiting cars, heading back to the Ashwood estate. Desmond grips Piers’s shoulder, then hesitates—his attention catching on Valeria’s sleeping face. Something unspools in his expression before he turns away, the Crowes already boarding their jet to Ireland.

That leaves me, Piers, and his men. Wesley Hall is waiting.

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