《The Don’s Secret Obsession 》全部章節：第 91 章 - 第 100 章

Morning arrived without mercy.Serena had not slept. She sat on the edge of the bed as the first light filtered through the narrow window, hands resting loosely on her knees, the reality of the day already settled in her chest. Matteo’s deadline was not a bluff. She had seen the look in his eyes when he left. He would walk straight to Luca if she did not.The child inside her felt less like an abstraction now and more like a clock.She dressed slowly, chose the plainest clothes available, and waited.Matteo came just after eight.He did not bring food. He did not bring cards. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and looked at her for a long moment before speaking.“Well?”Serena met his gaze. “I’ll talk to him.”“When?”“Today.”Matteo studied her face for any sign of delay tactics. Finding none, he gave a short nod. “I’ll escort you. If you try to redirect this conversation into another request for Greece or another performance, I end it and take the information to him mysel

Sofia did not sleep in their bed that night.She stayed in the nursery with Lorenzo, the door locked from the inside, the bassinet pulled close enough that she could hear every small shift of his breathing. When he woke near midnight she fed him in the dark, her movements automatic, her mind still turning over the same set of facts until they lost their sharp edges and became something colder and more usable.Luca had failed her in the specific way she had always feared most—not through cruelty, but through silence. He had chosen to carry the shame alone rather than risk her anger, and in doing so had allowed the damage to grow roots. The pregnancy was not only a consequence of one night. It was a consequence of every day afterward that he had looked her in the eye and said nothing.By morning she had made her first decisions.Luca was already waiting in the corridor when she stepped out of the nursery. He looked as if he had not slept either. The adjoining room had done nothing to so

The news reached Romano and Valentina the following morning. Sofia delivered it herself in the private family sitting room, with Luca present but silent. She did not soften the edges. Serena was pregnant. The child was Luca’s. The conception occurred during the period of the impersonation, on a night Luca had concealed until the medical results forced the truth into the open. The decisions regarding Serena and the unborn child would be made jointly. No unilateral action. No public discussion beyond the inner circle. Valentina’s face went pale, then tight. Romano sat without moving for a long time, the lines around his eyes deepening as the full weight of the information settled. “How long have you known?” Romano asked Luca. “Two days for the pregnancy. Longer for the night itself.” Romano’s jaw flexed. He said nothing more in front of the others. The silence was heavier than any raised voice. Valentina found Sofia in the nursery an hour later. Lorenzo was asleep in the cr

The house had begun to feel different. Not louder. Not more chaotic. Just heavier, as if every room now carried the weight of things that could no longer be unspoken. Sofia felt it most in the mornings, when she woke to the soft sounds of Lorenzo shifting in his crib and the empty space beside her in the bed. Luca still slept in the adjoining room. The door between them remained open by a few inches—an unspoken compromise that satisfied no one. She sat on the edge of the mattress one morning, elbows on her knees, staring at her hands. The anger had not disappeared. It had simply changed shape. It no longer burned hot and immediate. It had settled into something colder and more durable, the kind of anger that lived alongside love without canceling it. She still loved him. That was the part that made everything harder. If she could have stopped, the decisions ahead would have been cleaner. Lorenzo made a small sound. Sofia rose at once, lifted him from the crib, and held him agains

The rain continued through the night and into the following morning, turning the estate grounds into a stretch of dark, reflective stone. Sofia stood at the nursery window with Lorenzo against her shoulder, watching water sheet down the glass. The baby had been restless since dawn. She rocked him with the steady rhythm she had learned in the early weeks of his life, but her mind was elsewhere—turning over the same set of impossible questions that had occupied her since the ultrasound.What did justice look like when the person who had tried to erase her now carried a child that shared blood with her son? What did love look like when the man she had chosen had protected his shame more carefully than her right to the truth? The answers refused to settle into anything clean.Behind her, the door to the adjoining room remained open. She heard Luca move through it, the quiet sounds of a man trying not to impose his presence. For a moment she considered calling him in. The impulse rose and