Chapter 12
Sophie
Isat cross-legged on the bed, hands pressed flat against my stomach. There was nothing to feel yet—no bump, no movement, nothing to indicate the life growing inside me. Just the knowledge that everything had changed.
My fingers traced small circles over the silk of my nightgown. "What am I going to do with you?" I whispered to my belly. The room swallowed my words, leaving me alone with my fears.
Vittorio hadn't returned to the bedroom since our night together. The memory of his touch lingered on my skin, but his absence spoke volumes. Had it been just relief, adrenaline, the celebration of survival? Or something more?
And now there was this—this tiny, fragile secret growing between us.
I'd rehearsed the words a hundred different ways.
Vittorio, I'm pregnant. It's yours. We're having a baby.
I know this changes everything. Each version sounded more ridiculous than the last. How could I tell a man like him—a man who calculated every move, who saw people as assets or liabilities—that I carried his child?
Would he see me differently? As a vessel, a means to an heir? As leverage in his war with Antonio?
The thought of Antonio knowing about the pregnancy before Vittorio sent ice through my veins. I'd seen the way he looked at me—like I was property that had been stolen. What would he do if he knew I carried his brother's child?
I paced the length of the room, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. The windows were bulletproof, the doors monitored, the entire estate a fortress. But I'd never felt more exposed.
A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
"Come in," I called, quickly dropping my hands from my stomach.
Lila entered, carrying a silver tray with a teapot and a cup. Her keen eyes took in my disheveled appearance, the untouched breakfast from earlier, and the rumpled bedsheets.
"You haven't eaten," she said, setting the tray on the bedside table.
Not a question.
"I'm not hungry."
She poured tea into the delicate porcelain cup, the aroma of chamomile filling the air. "The body needs nourishment, especially when it's working twice as hard."
My head snapped up. "What do you mean?"
Lila's weathered face softened. "I've raised three children of my own, Miss Sophie. I know the signs." She pressed the warm cup into my hands. "Drink. It will help with the nausea."
Tears pricked my eyes as I accepted the cup. "Does everyone know?"
"No." She sat beside me on the bed, her small frame barely making an impression on the mattress. "But secrets have a way of revealing themselves in this house. Walls have ears, and hearts have eyes."
I sipped the tea, letting its warmth spread through me. "I don't know what to do, Lila."
"You tell him."
"It's not that simple."
"It never is." Her hand covered mine, surprisingly strong for someone so small. "Whatever secret you're carrying, child, he deserves to know. He isn't his father." She paused, her gaze steady. "And he certainly isn't Antonio."
The mention of Antonio's name made me flinch. "That's what terrifies me. What if this just becomes another thing they fight over? Another piece of property to claim?"
Lila's eyes flashed with something fierce. "That child you carry is Ricci blood. But it's your blood too. Never forget that." She stood, smoothing her apron with practiced hands. "The boss is in his study. He's been there since dawn."
My heart raced. "You think I should tell him now?"
"I think waiting only gives fear more time to grow." She moved toward the door, then turned back. "He's a complicated man, Miss Sophie. But I've watched him since he was a boy. There's good in him—buried deep, perhaps, but there."
After she left, I sat with her words, letting them settle into my bones. She was right. I couldn't keep this secret any longer. Not when so much was at stake.
I dressed quickly in jeans and a soft sweater, pulling my hair back into a simple ponytail. No makeup, no pretenses. Just me, and the truth I needed to share.
The walk to Vittorio's study felt like marching to my own execution. Each step brought me closer to a moment that would define everything that came after. My hand trembled as I raised it to knock on the heavy wooden door.
But something stopped me. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, I could see Vittorio standing at his desk, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored shirt. Papers and photographs were spread across the surface in front of him.
I pushed the door open wider, words of confession on my lips—and froze.
Among the scattered surveillance photos and documents on his desk was an unmistakable medical chart with my name clearly visible at the top.
Ice flooded my veins as Vittorio looked up, his piercing blue eyes locking with mine. His face was a mask of controlled emotion, but I could see the storm raging beneath.
"You were going to tell me?" His voice was quiet, controlled, but I heard the dangerous current underneath.
I stepped into the study, letting the door swing closed behind me. "How did you get that?"
"Antonio sent it." He picked up the medical chart, holding it between us like evidence at a trial. "Six to eight weeks. That makes it mine."
Not a question. A statement of fact, of ownership.
"Yes." The word felt torn from my throat.
"When were you planning to share this information?" His tone was deceptively calm, but I saw the muscle in his jaw ticking, the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the edge of his desk.
"Today. I was going to tell you today." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room. "I only found out myself when I collapsed in the garden."
"And yet you've had multiple opportunities since then." He moved around the desk, closing the distance between us. "After I rescued you. When you were in my bed."
"I was terrified," I whispered.
His jaw tightened. "Of me?"
"Of this." I gestured between us. "Of what it means."
"What does it mean?" His voice was deadly quiet.
"That you'll see me differently. That I'll become just… just the vessel for your heir."
He flinched as if I'd struck him. "Is that what you think of me?"
"I don't know what to think anymore." My voice cracked. "I just know that I've been used by men before. Antonio treated me like property. And you—"
"I am not my brother." His voice was deadly quiet.
"No. You're more dangerous." I met his gaze steadily. "Because sometimes, I forget that. Sometimes, I look at you and I see something else entirely."
His expression softened fractionally. "What do you see?"
"Someone I could trust. Someone who came for me when I was taken." I swallowed hard. "Someone I was starting to—"
I couldn't finish the sentence. The word was too big, too frightening to acknowledge.
Vittorio stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "You were terrified I'd see you differently."
"I was terrified you'd see me as just the mother of your heir instead of… me." The admission left me feeling naked, exposed.
His hand came up to cup my cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "Never. You're everything."
The intensity in his eyes stole my breath. Before I could respond, the study door opened, and Enzo stepped in, his expression grim.
"Boss, we've got—" He stopped short when he saw me. "Sorry to interrupt."
"What is it?" Vittorio didn't take his eyes off me.
"Antonio's reached out. He's requesting a meeting. Tomorrow night."
My blood ran cold. "He knows." The words were barely a whisper.
Vittorio's jaw tightened. "Of course, he knows. That's why he sent this." He gestured to the photographs on his desk. "He's making his move."
"What does he want?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"You." Vittorio's voice was flat. "And now, the child."
The reality of our situation crashed over me like a wave. I wasn't just caught between two brothers anymore—I'd become the battleground for my child's future. Antonio wouldn't stop. He'd use this baby as leverage, as a way to hurt Vittorio, as a means to regain control.
"I won't let him near either of you." Vittorio's voice cut through my panic, steady and sure. "This ends now."
Enzo cleared his throat. "The meeting location is neutral ground. The old cathedral in the city center. He's bringing three men, no more."
"It's a trap," I said immediately.
"Of course it is." Vittorio's smile was cold. "But Antonio sent the photos and your medical file for a reason—he wanted us to know. Which means we can use that knowledge against him before he expects it."
"I'm coming with you," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
"Absolutely not," Vittorio growled.
"He'll expect me to be there. If I'm not, he'll know something's wrong." My hands moved instinctively to my stomach. "This is my fight, too."
"You're carrying my child." Vittorio said, his expression dark. "You're not going anywhere near him. It's too dangerous." His voice left no room for argument.
A tense silence filled the room. Enzo looked between us, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the crossfire.
"Enzo, tell Antonio I'll meet him. And double the security on the estate perimeter."
After Enzo left, Vittorio turned back to me. His hand reached out, hovering over my still-flat stomach before gently resting there. My own hand covered his, our fingers intertwining over the place where our child grew.
"He'll never touch you," Vittorio said, his voice a vow. "Never touch our child. I promise you that."
In that moment, with his hand warm against my belly and his eyes fierce with protection, I believed him.