Chapter 1 - I Tried to Resign Before Anyone Discovered I Was Twelve Weeks Pregnant—Then Adrien Falco Crossed Out My Signature and Told Me My Baby Was Already a TargetI had always believed the worst part of working for criminals would be the blood.
I was wrong.
It was the paperwork.
That afternoon, I stood beside the industrial copier on the fourteenth floor of the Drexal Building, watching another fraudulent tax return slide into the tray.
Rain streaked the tinted windows, turning Philadelphia into a gray blur below me.
I was twenty-eight.
Exhausted.
And twelve weeks pregnant by the most dangerous man in the building.
No one knew.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
Inside the restroom, I had locked myself in the largest stall and opened the pharmacy bag with trembling hands.
The second test confirmed what the first had already told me.
YES.
I stared at those two pink lines for nearly a minute.
I didn't cry.
I calculated.
Fourteen thousand dollars in savings.
A lease ending in November.
Medical bills I couldn't predict.
Daycare I couldn't afford.
A growing child who already needed things I hadn't even bought.
And the father?
Adrien Falco.
Owner of Falco Logistics.
Heir to a criminal transportation empire.
A man whose enemies preferred bullets to warnings.
Three months earlier, a blizzard had trapped us in a Chicago hotel after a business deal collapsed.
We'd been tired.
Angry.
Drinking expensive scotch in a dark room.
It happened once.
Neither of us mentioned it again.
But mistakes usually disappeared after you corrected the numbers.
This one had a heartbeat.
I left the restroom and returned to my desk.
At 2:17 p.m., I walked into Adrien's office and placed my resignation on his desk.
He finished threatening someone over the phone.
“Fix the shipment,” he said into the receiver. “And if the driver lies to me again, he won't be driving anything tomorrow.”
He hung up.
Then opened my envelope.
His eyes moved across the page twice.
“Who approached you?”
“No one.”
“Don't lie to me, Norah.”
“I’m leaving the industry.”
His gaze shifted toward my bag.
The crackers.
The ginger candies.
Then he looked directly at me.
“When did you stop drinking coffee?”
My stomach dropped.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You used to drink three cups before noon.”
Silence.
“Now you haven't touched coffee in six weeks.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“You missed two morning meetings.”
“I was sick.”
“You visited Dr. Morgan's private clinic.”
I felt cold.
“That was personal.”
“You didn't tell HR.”
“Because it was personal.”
His expression hardened.
He mentioned the doctor’s appointment I had hidden on my calendar.
He admitted tracking the company phone I carried everywhere.
“That’s my medical privacy,” I snapped.
“That’s my perimeter.”
I stood.
“I don't work for you anymore.”
He rose too.
“How many weeks?”
I refused to answer.
“How many, Norah?”
“Twelve.”
Silence swallowed the room.
His face didn't change.
But his eyes did.
“The night in Chicago?”
I said nothing.
“The timing matches.”
I reached for my resignation.
Adrien caught my wrist.
His grip wasn't painful.
That made it worse.
He released me.
Then he picked up his black fountain pen.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He drew one thick line through my signature.
“No.”
I stared at the ruined letter.
“You can't do that.”
“I just did.”
“I resign.”
“No.”
“You don't own me.”
“No.”
He looked at my stomach.
“But the child you're carrying is connected to me.”
My throat tightened.
“You're assuming it's yours.”
His expression turned almost amused.
“Norah.”
He stepped closer.
“You stopped drinking coffee.”
“You started carrying ginger.”
“You booked an obstetric appointment under a false name.”
“You've been eating crackers every two hours.”
“You think I didn't notice?”
I said nothing.
He lowered his voice.
“How many weeks?”
I whispered:
“Twelve.”
Adrien closed his eyes for a second.
Then looked back at me.
“That baby is mine.”
I felt trapped.
“This changes nothing.”
“It changes everything.”
“I don't want your money.”
“I didn't offer it.”
“I don't want your protection.”
“You're getting it.”
“I don't want your family involved.”
“They already are.”
That sentence made my blood run cold.
“What does that mean?”
Adrien walked to the window.
Below us, Philadelphia moved through rain.
“You think you were hiding a pregnancy.”
He turned.
“You weren't.”
I stared.
“Someone knows.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Because this morning, a man intercepted one of our trucks and asked one question.”
My stomach tightened.
“What question?”
Adrien's expression became deadly.
“Did the Falco heir exist yet?”
I couldn't breathe.
“No one knows about the baby.”
“That's what I thought.”
He placed a photograph on his desk.
It showed me leaving the doctor's clinic.
I recognized the building.
I recognized the coat.
I recognized the day.
My blood went cold.
“Who took that?”
“We don't know.”
I picked up the photo.
“Someone has been following me.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Six days.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I wanted to know how close they were.”
“You used me as bait.”
“I protected you.”
“You watched me.”
“I watched everyone around you.”
I threw the photograph onto his desk.
“This is insane.”
Adrien didn't blink.
“Maybe.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Speak.”
A voice whispered something.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
He listened.
“Don't touch them.”
Pause.
“I'm coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
Adrien looked directly at me.
“One of my warehouse guards found a surveillance file.”
My stomach dropped.
“About me?”
“No.”
He paused.
“About the baby.”
I stared.
He stepped around his desk.
“Get your coat.”
“Why?”
“Because we're leaving.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere nobody can reach you.”
“I don't trust you.”
“I know.”
He picked up his gun.
“But tonight, you're going to have to.”
I looked at my ruined resignation.
Then at the man who had just changed the entire direction of my life.
And I realized something terrifying.
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Adrien Falco hadn't crossed out my resignation because he wanted an employee.
He had crossed it out because the moment I became the mother of his child, I had become part of a war I didn't even know existed.
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