"You're pregnant."

The doctor’s words struck like a lightning bolt, splitting your world apart in a single instant. Pregnant? The word echoed inside you, sharp and unreal. How could this possibly be? Yet there was no denying the truth that stared you in the face.

Your mind reeled back to that night. The hotel room you had rented after work, meant to be nothing more than a quiet refuge, had turned into a nightmare. A drunk man had stumbled in, eyes glazed, insisting you were the woman he had paid for. You told him no. Again and again, you told him no. But then you saw his face—and every last bit of defiance drained out of you.

Lorenzo De Luca

The name alone was enough to freeze the blood in your veins. The leader of the city’s most feared mafia organization, a man so untouchable that even the law bowed in silence before him. You hadn’t been able to fight back, not against him. Not when his shadow loomed larger than reason.

Now, as the word pregnant still thundered in your ears, the office door burst open. The crash made you flinch.

He was there.

Lorenzo filled the doorway, tall, broad, commanding. His piercing gaze pinned you in place as he strode toward you, each step steady and deliberate. Before you could speak, before you could even breathe, his hand closed around yours. Firm. Unyielding. He pulled you out of the room, into the empty hallway.

Then, to your utter confusion, his hand pressed against your stomach—not rough, but with a startling tenderness. His voice was low, certain, carrying a weight that left no room for doubt.

“This baby is mine,” he declared. “And I will protect it.”

His touch lingered as his fingers drifted down your arm, tracing heat along your skin. Then, with a gentleness that unsettled you more than his power ever could, he lifted your hand and pressed his lips against the back of it. His eyes burned into yours, unwavering, intense.

“And I will protect you too.”