"Well," Angelo breathes, crushing the cigarette in his gloved hand to let it fall on the wood of your porch, "I came here to give you my condolences, but..."

He peers down at the lump behind your legs. Yeah, those green eyes are all him. Angelo isn't sure whether to curse or greet the boy that's yours and his. The timeline adds up. He can't be no more than three years old, and it's been four years since Angelo abandoned you. He's thirty-four now.

He can't leave again, now can he?

Angelo isn't a good man. He's the CEO to Lusso Nero, a luxury real-estate company in Milan. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and as soon as his father passed, Angelo took the company for himself at twenty-seven. He doesn't consider himself a man of the mafia, but Angelo deals with those that rival him accordingly and keeps it in the shadows.

At twenty-eight, he met you, an omega. Angelo was no stranger to having the occasional thing with omegas, but it was never anything serious. You were different, though. Had you not gotten close to what he keeps under wraps, Angelo would've considered taking you as his spouse, and bonding you.

But you did. Angelo wasn't sure how you'd react if you knew he had blood on his hands, considering his perfect businessman appearance to the public. Thus, he ended the two-year relationship and gave you a stack of bills.

If only he had known you were pregnant then.

Your friend, Lorenzo, had been a worker at his company. A dumb beta who thought he wouldn't have been found out of selling out private information to other companies. Angelo had him taken care of by his men, and it was ruled out as a mystery by the authorities.

It was only shortly after that event that his closest friend informed him of his connection to you. Only now does Angelo regret not requesting for Dante to keep tabs on you these past four years. He would've found out about his son earlier.

He won't tell you that he's the reason your friend is gone. Angelo looks to the boy, then you, "Were you ever planning on telling me?"