Page 96 of His Son's Ex

I slide into one of the sticky plastic seats and rest a hand over my belly—something I keep doing without even thinking—like I can shield the baby from the insanity of my life.

A fatherless baby. At least that’s what I’ll be giving this little one if I keep running.

The train jolts forward, the windows smeared with graffiti and God knows what else. Across the way, a woman sits in faded scrubs, offering me a soft, sympathetic smile. I nod politely. She probably thinks I’m just another overworked New Yorker riding the late train home.

God, I wish that were true.

Instead, I’m sitting here haunted by images of hazel eyes that could burn right through me—Dante Bellacino—in all his complicated, maddening glory. I swear, one look from him makes me feel like I could either take on the world or crumble like a sugar cookie.

The image of Dante shaking hands with the man who fired the bullet that killed my father plays over and over in my brain on repeat. It’s burned into my mind like a scar.

Anger boils up sharp and sudden. My fingers curl around the edge of the seat like I could dig my way back to sanity if I just hold tight enough.You’re doing the right thing, I tell myself for the hundredth time. But it doesn’t feel right, it just feels necessary, like it’s the only way forward.

This baby deserves more than growing up in mafia violence and backroom deals. That alone should be enough to justify me walking away.

My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, dragging me out of my mental spiral. Halsey again. God love her, she’s relentless, but I don’t answer. If I talk to her, I’ll break.

I can’t let anyone know where I’m going, not even her.

Three stops later, I switch trains, weaving through trash-littered platforms beneath flickering florescent lights. The station humswith edgy, late-night quiet. Eventually, I emerge onto the streets of the Queens neighborhood Luca claimed would set me free.

What a joke.

Overhead, a cracked streetlight buzzes like it’s on its last leg. A torn poster taped to a bus stop shelter for some ancient block party flaps in the wind, faded and forgotten. Even the rats scurrying nearby have an attitude—like they’re guarding their turf and I’m an invader.

I pull my coat tighter around me and scan the street. It’s eerily empty. This is it—the address Luca scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper. I’m just a few steps away from whatever fresh hell he’s sending me into. Every part of me whispers,turn back.

A half-collapsed awning sits above the door of the address Luca gave me.They’ll help you disappear. No questions asked.

I push open the grimy metal door. The hallway reeks of mold and garbage, my boots clicking ominously on the wood floor. My heart hammers, but I force myself forward. At the end of the corridor, a single bulb dangles over a door left slightly ajar. Its yellowed paint is peeling off in ragged curls, like it wants to flee this place, too.

I rap my knuckles against the wood. Nothing. My pulse bangs in my ears, but I ease the door open anyway. The small, dusty room inside is crammed with boxes, a flickering desk lamp casting jittery shadows on the walls.

Suddenly, an all-too familiar and unwelcome female voice breaks the silence. “Look who finally came knocking.”

I whirl around to find Linda Patterson standing in the doorway, arms folded over a sleek black jacket, radiating privilege. Behindher, Gianni Lombardi steps forward, tall and broad-shouldered, a wicked grin on his face.

My stomach flips.

“Eva Petrova,” he says, my true surname rolling too easily off his tongue. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I clench my fists, summoning courage from deep within. “A welcoming committee? I’m touched.” My voice drips sarcasm even though panic claws at my insides.

Linda snorts, flicking a glance at Gianni. “Apparently she thinks she still has options,” she says, her gaze locking onto me. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you alone ever since you inserted yourself into Dante’s life. Never imagined he’d fall for someone like you.”

My heart thuds in my chest. “Someone like me? You mean a woman with a conscience?”

Gianni steps closer, studying me. “I see you’ve got a spine.”

Linda exhales sharply. “We need to do this now, before anything else can complicate matters. We can’t have our prize strolling the city like she’s untouchable.”

“Prize?” I echo, keeping my tone defiant. “I walked in here on my own.”

Linda’s eyes gleam. “You sure did, thanks to Luca telling you the perfect story, that someone at this address could help you vanish. And here you are, a sitting duck.”

My blood chills. “This is about the baby.”

She smirks. “Oh, honey. It’s more than that. Dante is the father of your unborn child, which makes it a direct threat to Luca’sfuture. You think Dante is going to pass the throne to his estranged son when there’s a brand-new heir on the way?”

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