Page 146 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

“The document is authentic. Bianca is pregnant.”

The news hits me like a sledgehammer. Brutal. Final.

I’m going to be a father.

“How is that possible? I always used protection.”

Part of me is still searching for the flaw, the escape route, the trap.

But the test results are right there.

My shoulders slump.

I refuse to be the kind of bastard who walks away from his responsibilities.

I’m going to be a father, and I feel no joy at all.

Not like this. Not with the woman I love. But it’s real. Irreversible. And no amount of anger or regret will change that.

I would have given anything for it to be with Valeria. For it to be ours. For that moment I imagined so many times—her telling me, me failing to hide my joy.

But it’s too late.

“Dante,” Andrea says softly. “You holding up?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Valeria left,” I say.

Silence.

“Can you blame her?”

“No.”

I can’t blame her for putting distance between herself and the man who got her worst enemy pregnant. I can’t blame her for running from something I can barely face myself.

“My child’s mother is a woman who tried to kill the woman I love,” I say quietly. “I don’t know how to protect my child from that reality. When Bianca is held accountable, what she did will be public.”

“You could drop the case against her.”

“And betray Valeria again? Never. I’ll protect my child—but not at that cost. Valeria deserves justice.”

“The decision is yours.”

“It’s already made.”

When I hang up, snow has started falling over Paris. It’s beautiful and silent and completely indifferent to what I’m going through—which, in a way, is almost comforting.

I’m going to be a father.

I’m going to have a child.

Will I be able to love my child, even if I despise their mother? Even if its existence risks costing me the woman I love?

I don’t know yet.