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Oh, no.
Carlo was fucking Stassia for a long time before he started fucking me. He was actively trying to get Stassia pregnant. And he had been trying several times a day.
Was Stassia’s son born first?
Was Nicco older than Marcello?
“When—” I tried to ask, but my mouth was so dry. And my throat burned.
“Two days after Marcello was born.”
I needed him to say it again.
“When was he—Nicco—when was he born?” I asked, desperation dripping from my every word.
Carlo grabbed my chin with his fingers and held my gaze with his. “Nicco was born two days after Marcello.”
Relief washed over my body.
“Marcello will be king one day. Our baby will take over for me.”
And even though I didn’t want to imagine a world without Carlo in it—knowing that Marcello would be king—well, for some reason, it made the world stop spinning around me.
I looked over at the crib. I could see our son sleeping soundly in there.
Our son.
The future king.
“It matters to you, doesn’t it? That he’s the one who takes over?” There was a hint of pride in his voice, and I wasn’t sure how that made me feel.
“Yes, it matters. It matters a lot,” I whispered as I kept looking at our son. I wanted him to have everything he deserved. And I didn’t want Stassia’s kid to take anything away from mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me before? About Nicco?” I peered back at Carlo. I already knew the answer. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.
“There wasn’t time when I first found you and Dani. You were already in labor. And that isn’t the kind of thing to bring up when a woman is pushing out your baby into the world. And then I figured you hated me enough when you woke up after your first surgery.”
I nodded and sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? “I hated everyone. Not just you.” I let my hand settle on his cheek as he gave me a sad, concerned look.
“Who does he look like?” I asked, again not really wanting to know the answer.
“He looks like me. So far, anyway.”
There was a long silence after that. My brain was trying to process the impossible. Make sense out of this horrible mash up of pain.
Finally, I pushed up out of Carlo’s arms and sat there. “I’m going to shower before he wakes up.”
Carlo’s hand shot out and grasped onto my arm. “Do you want me to come in and help?” he asked, with no sexual undertones at all. Carlo was genuinely asking if I wanted his assistance. He’d just witnessed me all but losing my mind. Of course, he’d be worried.
But if there was one thing that I’d learned from everything the universe had thrown at me—it was that I could handle it all.
Being Sergio’s wife.
Having him use my body every day for months on end.
Then escaping his clutches and finding a way to look after my unborn daughter and keep her safe.
Then ending up in a relationship with two brothers. A relationship that completely imploded.
