"She Hid Her Pregnancy From the Mafia Boss—Until He Found the Test in Her Trash and Said,
PART 2
Liam knocked again, softer this time.
“Emma?”
I flushed the toilet, wiped my mouth, and stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked pale. Terrified. Guilty.
Pregnant.
My hands shook as I unlocked the bathroom door.
Liam stood there in gray sweatpants and an old Cubs T-shirt, holding two mugs of coffee. His blond hair stuck up in different directions, and concern creased his forehead immediately when he saw my face.
“You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ve been throwing up for three mornings straight.”
“I probably caught something.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Liam had known me since we were twelve years old. He knew when I lied. Unfortunately, I knew when he knew.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then they dropped to the pregnancy test still clutched in my hand.
The world stopped.
For one long second, neither of us spoke.
Then Liam quietly set both mugs down on the hallway table.
“Emma,” he said carefully, “tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
His expression changed instantly.
Shock first.
Then confusion.
Then something sharper.
“Who?”
I looked away.
“Emma.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t matter.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Please don’t yell.”
“I’m not yelling.” His voice lowered dangerously. “Who is the father?”
Silence stretched between us.
Then realization hit him.
I saw it happen.
His face lost color.
“No.”
I swallowed hard.
May you like
“No,” he repeated. “Tell me you didn’t.”
My eyes filled before I could stop them.
