1148 She thought she was just a cleaning woman scrubbing floors in his hotel, but when her best friend faked a pregnancy to trap the city's most dangerous mafia boss, her own hidden secret changed the rules of the game forever.

The sterile smell of the hospital room seemed to suffocate Marin as Dante’s words hung in the air. fiancé. The word echoed in her mind, tearing through whatever lingering disbelief she had left. Dante Sterling was engaged to Delia Marsh—the same Delia who had grown up two blocks away from Marin, who had shared thrift-store clothes and midnight tears, and who had somehow clawed her way into the highest echelons of Chicago’s criminal underworld.

"She’s not pregnant," Marin whispered, the truth finally breaking through her resolve. "It’s a lie."

Dante didn't look surprised. He pulled up a metal chair and sat down backward, resting his forearms on the backrest. "I figured that out the moment she tried to avoid answering my questions about the timeline. But in my world, people don't invent pregnancies with mafia bosses unless they’re trying to lock down a throne—or cover up something much bigger."

"She’s using you," Marin said, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. "She’s been tracking your movements for months. She knew who you were before you even met at that gala. She planned the whole thing."

"And you?" Dante’s gaze sharpened, cutting straight through her defenses. "Where do you fit into her plan, Marin? Because according to the background check my security team pulled up thirty minutes ago, you and Delia have been inseparable since grade school. Which means she knew you were at the hotel that night. Did she send you there?"

Marin’s breath hitched. "No! I didn't even know who you were! I was just trying to get out of the storm."

"And yet, you ended up in my suite. You patched me up. You spent the night talking to me." Dante leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "People like Delia don't leave things to chance. If she knew where I was going to be, she knew you'd cross paths with me."

A cold realization washed over Marin. The pieces began clicking together in a terrifying pattern. The sudden shift in Delia’s behavior three months ago, the expensive clothes she had started wearing out of nowhere, the casual questions she used to ask about Marin’s late-night shifts near the hotel district.

Delia hadn't just guessed where Dante would be. She had used Marin as a pawn, orchestrating an accidental encounter to test the waters, or perhaps to create a distraction while she secured her own position.

"She didn't send me to seduce you," Marin said, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. "She didn't even know we crossed paths until tonight. But when she saw us together at the club... she realized what I represented."

"Which is?"

Marin looked down at her hands, terrified of the answer. She couldn't tell him about the child. Not yet. Not while Nell was still vulnerable, and not while Delia held the hospital over her head like a guillotine.

"I'm just a loose end," Marin said quietly.

"You’re not a loose end," Dante said, standing up with sudden, coiled energy. "You’re the only real thing I’ve encountered in years. And Delia made a very expensive mistake thinking she could play games with my life."

He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen once before lifting it to his ear. "Get the legal team on the phone," he ordered into the receiver. "And bring Delia to the downtown office. I want her things out of my penthouse before sunrise."

He hung up and looked down at Marin. "You and your sister are moving tonight. To a private estate. My security will handle the transfer."

"No," Marin said, backing away. "I can't. If I leave, Delia will—"