Page 61 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

"I'm fine, Maggie." I smiled and looked down at my stomach. "They're my child. They're strong. This won't hurt them."

Maggie wiped my forehead. "I'll head back and start dinner."

I nodded, watching her walk home with the groceries she'd just bought.

I climbed back on the stool and kept painting.

I thought about how once this wall dried, I could move the racks over tomorrow. The first batch of fabric wasn't picked yet—Diego said he knew a good wholesale dealer in town, fair prices. We'd check out the market soon.

My mood lifted. The future felt bright. Everything that happened at Moretti Manor seemed far away now.

I kept working until the light outside turned golden, that harsh glare softening into warm sunset. I'd finished half the wall. Sweat ran down my face. I was about to keep going when a voice spoke from the doorway—

"Elena."

Low, hoarse, like musical notes jumping in my ear.

I'd never mistake that voice. I treasured every word he spoke, even the ones that broke my heart—they still made my pulse race.

I turned and saw that tall figure standing in the doorway.

Sunset light poured through the window, spreading gold across the fresh wall. The poinciana's shadow swayed on the glass, leaves rustling in the wind. And Dante stood there in the fading light, looking at me with tired eyes and a soft smile.

He walked closer. That's when I saw it—his white shirt wrinkled beyond recognition, his hair uncombed and messy. I'd never seen him look this exhausted, this wrecked.

Dante reached up and lifted me off the stool, then pulled me tight against him.

"Thank God. I found you."

I froze in his arms, feeling that familiar warmth and cologne, my voice coming out wooden. "What are you doing here?"

Didn't he see the ring? I left. Valentina could stay by his side now. Wasn't that what he wanted?

Why would Dante track me down here?

He held me like he'd recovered something precious, arms locked tight. It made me uncomfortable—he was rarely this gentle with me.

"Salvador's dead." His voice came close to my ear, tinged with grief. "Before he died, he wrote me a letter. He told me about the deal between you two, the contract. He told me he drugged me. And... that you're pregnant."

Dante loosened his grip. His eyes looked red. This man, always so hard and cold, now showed emotion and hurt.

"It's all my fault." He looked up at me, those dark blue eyes full of feeling. "Elena, I'm not asking you to forgive me right away. I just want you to know—the way I treated you before, itwas because I didn't know the truth. I thought you did all those things on purpose."

"I had my doubts, actually."

Dante touched my cheek. Even with my expression frozen, he still looked at me gently. "After we married, you didn't act like someone who'd drugged me. But besides you, I couldn't figure out who else would've done it. I thought you and Salvador conspired together. So I took all my anger out on you."

His words sounded sincere, his tone impossibly gentle, his eyes soft enough to melt.

"I'm sorry, Elena." Dante's hand moved to my waist, then to my belly. His warm palm pressed against my skin through my clothes. "I'm so happy you're carrying my child. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind with joy."

Wait.

Hold on.

This Dante felt like a stranger. I almost wondered if someone was impersonating him. I stepped back twice, putting distance between us, and looked up at him. "What about Valentina?"

At her name, his brow furrowed. "What happened to her in Mexico wasn't simple. I've got people investigating. She pretended to explain things to you, then turned around and had someone at the manor try to hurt you. I dealt with everyone involved."