Dante didn't speak for a full minute after her confession.
He stood frozen by the windows, his scarred face a mask of controlled fury. The city lights cast shadows across his features, making him look like something carved from stone.
"Three months," he finally said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Yes."
"Marcus's child."
Serena flinched at the venom in his tone. "Dante—"
"No." He turned to face her, and the darkness in his eyes made her take a step back. "You will not speak his name in my presence. Not anymore."
"You can't just—"
"I can do whatever I want." He moved toward her with predatory grace. "You're my wife. This is my home. And that child you're carrying will be raised as mine."
"It's not that simple!"
"It's exactly that simple." His hands framed her face, grip firm but no
