The cigar slipped from Matteo's fingers, landing on the desk and scattering ash across his paperwork. He didn't notice.
"A pregnancy test," Matteo whispered, the words sounding foreign in his own ears.
"Two of them," Nico corrected, his voice dropping. "And Matteo... she hid them. Our guy saw her bury the boxes under a pack of napkins before she got back to the car. She didn't want the Miller boy to see them."
Matteo stood up, so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor. The realization hit him like a physical blow to the gut. The timing, her sickness, the way she had been holding herself in the footage.
"She's carrying my child," Matteo said, a dark, primal light flickering in his eyes. It wasn't a question.
The anger that had been simmering in him for days suddenly disappeared.
"Nico," Matteo said, his voice dropping to that low, vibration that signaled the end of someone's world.
"Get the jet ready, we're going to her."
