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Pregnant with My Dead Lover's Heir Novel Cover

Pregnant with My Dead Lover's Heir

Chiara Moltisanti is finished with her useless husband, Marco Gallante. When he demands a divorce to marry his mistress, Chiara realizes her secret pregnancy is the key to the Gallante empire. With the eldest son dead and the Don desperate for a pure-blooded heir, Chiara sees her chance to seize control of a dynasty spanning three continents. She plans to cut Marco out entirely, using her unborn child to secure the throne and rule the family’s 100-year legacy with an iron fist.
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Chapter 2

At dawn, a shrill phone ring tore through the night.

"Chiara, we've got a problem! There's a rat in the family. The FBI is raiding the docks in an hour for a full sweep!"

My heart sank when I heard the news. After all, that was where the family had hidden decades' worth of ledgers. If they found those books, the entire Gallante family, including me, would be facing life sentences.

Since Marco was not home, I immediately dialed his number. However, it went straight to voicemail.

There was no need to guess; he was probably still in Fiore's loving arms.

Outside, a violent storm was tearing through the city. Without a second thought, I grabbed my car keys and ran straight into the rain.

When I reached the docks, federal agents were already positioned in the shadows, and rival families who had caught wind of it circled nearby, waiting to profit from the chaos.

I had barely slipped through a hidden side entrance of a warehouse when several dark figures lunged at me from the shadows. I dodged sideways and quickly hit a hidden switch on the wall.

With a heavy crash, the steel gate dropped instantly, trapping my pursuers in the narrow corridor. It was a defense mechanism Luca had designed years ago.

I slid down through the ventilation shaft into the vault. Suddenly, my lower abdomen cramped with another wave of sharp pain.

Leaning against the wall, I gritted through the pain and dialed Marco's number again. This time, he answered.

"Who is this? It's the middle of the damn night!"

I suppressed the pain, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'm at the docks. I'm trapped. The FBI's about to arrive. You should–"

Before I could finish, a soft, delicate voice interrupted me. "Marco, it's thundering. I'm so scared..."

It was Fiore.

On the other end, Marco's voice immediately softened. "Don't worry. It's alright. I'll hold you while you sleep."

The call ended abruptly.

I took a deep breath and retrieved the ledgers from a hidden compartment beneath the Virgin Mary statue in the office. Using waterproof bags and tape, I strapped them tightly to my inner thigh.

Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing clearer by the second. Meanwhile, the main entrance was blocked by men from the rival families.

I still did not know who the rat was. Hence, I could only rely on myself.

After sending a quick text, I lifted up a floor tile. It was an escape tunnel Luca had personally dug years ago as a precaution.

The exit led to a hidden rock cave beneath the docks, where a lifeboat was kept. I sprinted through the slippery passageway, the dragging pain in my abdomen growing more intense.

When I reached the exit, I discovered with crushing despair that the lifeboat's engine had been sabotaged.

Footsteps and angry shouts from my pursuers echoed through the tunnel, getting closer. I scanned my surroundings and squeezed into a crevice Luca had set up inside the cave.

It was an air pocket that only left the head above water during high tide, nearly impossible to detect.

A jagged rock tore into my thigh, cutting to the bone, and blood soaked my pants instantly. The searing pain and blood loss made my vision blur, and the cramping in my belly grew more violent.

I clutched my stomach protectively and pulled out the progesterone injection I always carried, jabbing it into my arm without hesitation.

In the darkness, I clenched my jaw as tears and cold sweat streamed down my face. I did not know how much time had passed before a frantic voice called out from the cave entrance.

It was the family doctor, Vincent Romano.

I used the last of my strength to crawl out. When he saw the horrific wound on my leg and reached for anesthesia, I grabbed his hand tightly.

"Stitch me up without anesthesia–now! It's bad for the baby."

Vincent looked at me, his tears watering his eyes, but eventually he picked up the needle and thread.

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