Willing To Kill

The sonogram on Luca‘ s desk was the first thing I noticed when I came home to an empty house, with the note scribbled in Casey’s handwriting: “For our future.”

I didn’t need to read it twice to feel my stomach churn. It was like a punch to the gut.

As I picked up the image, my hand trembled while I stared at the blur that Casey had labeled ‘our child.”

I was away for three days dealing with Syndicate matters–endless meetings, hard negotiations, and keeping things together.

But this? This was what I came home to?

I had bled for this family–his family. I thought that was enough.

The staff avoided my eyes like they knew. Everyone knew but me. They were all in on the lie and I was the last to find out, as always.

I didn’t ask the butler, but Davenport confirmed it anyway when I cornered him.

“The Don and Miss Casey are spending the evening at the cabin, ma‘ am,” he had muttered, avoiding my gaze as though looking at me would burn him alive.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as the anger quickly crawled under my skin like. poison, making my fingers itch at the gun on the passenger seat, gleaming under the flickering streetlights like an invitation to end this madness right now.

But I didn’t. Not yet. Not now.