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 rain drummed a frantic rhythm against the roof of the SUV as Delia walked slowly toward them, her designer heels splashing through the puddles with deliberate, calm arrogance. The man stepping out of the sedan behind her was older, wearing an immaculate gray trench coat—Arthur Sterling, Dante’s uncle and primary rival for control of the family board.

Dante’s expression darkened into something lethal. He didn't look at Marin; his hand drifted slowly to the handle of his door.

"Stay here," he whispered, his voice a low growl.

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain, his tall frame blocking Delia's path before she could reach the vehicle. Marin pressed her face against the tinted glass, straining to hear their words over the storm.

"You're out late, Uncle," Dante’s voice carried clearly through the wet air, sharp enough to cut glass.

Arthur Sterling smiled, a thin, paper-dry expression that didn't reach his eyes. "Family business, Dante. It seems your domestic arrangements are causing a rather significant volatility in the portfolio. We can't have a compromised leader making emotional errors."

Delia stepped forward, her umbrella tilted back just enough to reveal a triumphant, icy smile. She looked past Dante directly at the SUV, her eyes locking onto Marin through the glass.

"You should have stayed with the mop, Marin," Delia called out, her voice carrying a sickening sweetness. "You were always so good at cleaning up other people's messes. But you stepped into a game you don't know how to play."

Dante didn't flinch. He took half a step closer to Delia, his presence dominating the alley. "The game is over, Delia. Your fake pregnancy is exposed, your access codes are revoked, and whatever leverage you thought you had with Sutton Vane died the moment my security decrypted his terminal."

Delia laughed—a light, musical sound that sent a chill down Marin’s spine. "My pregnancy? Oh, Dante... you still think this is about me?"

She turned her head slightly, gesturing back toward the sedan.

"I never cared about being your wife, Dante. I just needed you distracted long enough for Arthur to consolidate the waterfront shipping lanes. But as for the real prize..." Delia’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with malice as she looked directly at the SUV. "Ask sweet little Marin what she’s been hiding under her oversized jacket for the last four months. Ask her whose baby she’s actually carrying."

Inside the car, Marin stopped breathing. The world seemed to stop spinning entirely.