Page 114 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

“I imagine so. I wouldn’t want his potential bargaining chip to be potentially unhealthy.”

His scathing words make my stomach go sour.

“I guess not.” It makes me think of Vittoria. “I know you’re really angry at your friend, the one who got your sister pregnant.”

He growls. “Renzo.”

“Yes. I know you’re really angry at him. But I’m wondering if I could talk to Vittoria.”

He looks at me speculatively. “Why do you wish to speak to her?”

“Because what she did to me was wrong. Scary, even. What she did to me put me in grave danger. And also because I want to know what she was thinking. You know, she’s the only friend I’ve ever had. Her leaving, betraying me, that really hurt. But now she’s pregnant, and our babies are related. They’re going to be cousins. It’s part of this… It’s part of what I’m talking about. We get to make a future now. We get to decide what it is.”

He looks at me, speculative. “If you insist. I’ll get you in touch with Vittoria, and tomorrow I will arrange a doctor’s visit and a scan.”

I nod, and my stomach goes tight. I have good, consistent movement, so I’m not worried about the baby’s health, but the idea of seeing the baby, of it becoming even more real to me, that makes me feel nervous, not in a bad way, but I feel something.

Maybe it’s just fear of all this becoming more and more real. Even as it becomes more and more dear to me.

“You might want to get dressed.”

I get up off the couch, and go collect my clothes, and he takes his phone out at the same time as he adjusts himself, tucks himself back into his pants and closes them.

“I’ll call now.”

Of course he will. That’s extremely mob boss of him. The phone rings, and is answered quickly. “The favor is appreciated,” he says. “Now I’ve taken Lindsay to London. Where she and the baby are safe.”

I can’t hear what’s being said on the other end. But then Ciro speaks again. “Lindsay wishes to speak to Vittoria.”

“Only if she wants to speak to me,” he says, clearly in response to something that Renzo has said.

There’s a pause. And I hear the lilt of a feminine voice on the other end of the phone. “Are you safe?… Are you happy?”

He pauses. “Do you need me to come and get you?”

He laughs, a low, sardonic sound. “I would expect nothing less from a Corretti daughter… I’m here with Lindsay. She wishes to speak to you… It’s your mess, Vittoria. If you have something to say for yourself, then it’s a good time for you to say it.”

He hands the phone to me, and I put it up to my ear. “Hello, Vittoria,” I say.

I hear her indrawn breath on the other end of the line. “Lindsay. Are you all right?”

“I wasn’t when I found out that my friend lied to me, and convinced me to have a baby for her brother who didn’t even know he was having a baby.”

“I’m sorry. But…my father found out that I was pregnant. He was threatening me, and the baby. I had to protect my child.”

“By enslaving me.”

“No. It’s not like that. You were going to get your money. I know that the circumstances around the situation weren’t entirely transparent, but you were going to get paid.”

“You were convincing me to bring a child into the world that wasn’t wanted. Not as a child to be loved.”

“I’m sorry. I was desperate. And I regret it. I wish that I would’ve contacted Renzo and found a way, but I was being prideful. Because…things didn’t end well between us after I got pregnant and—” She cuts herself off. “There’s no excuse. I didn’t know how to handle it, and I handled it very poorly. For which I’m very sorry.”

I know that I’m not going to stay mad at her. Partly because I’m just going to choose not to. There are so many things in the world that are just bad. This was more complicated than being just bad. Yeah, it was messed up. But she knows that. She’s also lived an entirely different life to me. Her survival instincts and mine aren’t the same. But honestly, in her position I’m not sure what I would’ve done. I definitely feel more empowered to go strike out on my own than she would. But she was in a comfy prison for her entire life; at least that’s how Ciro saw it. And I don’t know what kind of person I would’ve been in that same situation.

There’s just no point passing judgment.

“Our babies are going to be cousins,” I say. “And that means something to me. So I just want you to know that I forgive you. We’re going to be sisters-in-law, after all, and I would rather have a family than a grudge.”