His Unwanted Fiancée Was His True Savior

dollars of hand-stitched lace wh

e future Don of Chicago, had

eg. He looked me in the eye and

oldly. "I owe her this child. You will raise it

r engagement photos so he

e vacation meant

ompletely forgetting my deadly shellfish allerg

to leave, h

na. Act like one. She i

ed to

o, in that alley, Iso

who stitched his femoral artery and saved

wenty-year relationship

cream. I d

a red marker and wa

ltar waiting for his obedient Queen, I was already bo

but four words scra

reak up,

pte

stitched lace when I found out my fiancé had alr

anila envelope, slid under my apartment door like a death t

ca. Five wee

isted was Da

t the date of conception. It was six weeks ago-the same week

argo. He was bedding

was a man who could silence a room simply by checking his watch. He was violence wrapped in a bespoke three-piece

er. The perfect, silent, dutif

ed I wasn't his partner. I was just furniture-

ly. Then I walked to the calendar on t

phone and cal

l it,"

he other end, terrified of

ice flat. "Or I burn t

ung

row. I gathered every gift he had given me over the last five years. The diamond necklace. T

in the center of the living room

uck a

shrill warning I ignored. I watch

ened three

ive scotch and gunpowder. He saw the

s knees to beg. He just loosened his tie

His voice was a low rumble that usually made m

peated, the word

e less. She wanted a child before she goes. It is the price of the

t with he

linical,"

tion date didn't match an IVF t

over me. He was six-foot-

ey behind the warehouse. She dragged me to the safe h

art s

s ago. Th

ht it wa

dness. He thought Isobel de Luca, a woman who fainted at the sight

done

edical license and my life to save him, then vanished before he wo

ebt. And he was

to raise your mistr

rected, his tone icy. "This ends the war. It is

The hard lines around his eyes softened.

never given me. Not

said. "It's Isobel. She'

lcony to comfort the wo

I looked at the ring m

nt to my laptop an

lan. Departure dat