She Left Pregnant, Came Back Queen

Chapter 1

Hiding behind a shelf in her husband Reagan's underground room, Danica clutched a sonogram report in shaking hands—proof of the triplets growing inside her. She thought it would soften her husband. She thought he’d finally look at her like she was more than a pawn.

Instead, she watched him sell her father’s classified weapons—Titanis tech—to foreign buyers.

And then she heard the real plan.

He called her the golden key—useful, valuable, temporary. And when her purpose was served, he would erase her too.

Just like he did her father.

Her world stopped.

He never loved her. He never wanted a wife—he wanted an empire. And he was ready to bury her to keep it.

But Danica didn’t die.

With the help of Salvatore, the one man who saw through her silence, she faked her death and vanished. A ghost. A widow. A mother in hiding.

Until now.

Now, she returns—not as the woman Reagan tried to destroy, but as something far more dangerous.

She’s not here for forgiveness.

She’s here for revenge.

And Reagan?

He has no idea what’s coming.

--

Four years. That’s how long I’ve been married to Reagan De Santis. Four years of loving him, defending him, trusting him with the kind of blind loyalty that only a fool could afford. And I was that fool.

I shouldn’t be here.

Not in this underground war room, not holding this sonogram report like it’s some peace treaty between two nations secretly at war. I came here tonight hoping to give him a reason to smile. A reason to soften, to love me a little more. I thought maybe the ultrasound would bring us closer—maybe the news of our triplets would melt some of that cold detachment in his eyes.

But instead… I found this.

I’m hiding behind a metal shelf, my breath shallow, my fingers digging into the folded report so hard it’s starting to crumple.

Reagan stands just ten feet away, calm as a king in his kingdom. He’s dressed sharp, sleek, and completely focused on the screen in front of him—negotiating a weapons deal with two foreign buyers. That’s not the part that makes me want to vomit.

The weapons?

They're Titanis prototypes. The kind only a handful of people have access to. Classified tech. My father’s firm. My family’s blood.

And Reagan?

He’s selling them.

I can barely process what I’m seeing before I hear something that shatters me.

“She’s the golden key,” he says, chuckling.

My breath hitches.

“You really married the VP’s daughter just for Titanis access?” one of the men asks, amused.

Reagan smiles like it’s a joke. “Of course I did. Danica’s sweet, but come on. She was always just a pawn in heels. She opened the door, and now I run the whole castle. Pew!”

My legs buckle slightly, and I grip the shelf for balance. My husband… my husband just said that. About me. Like I’m some disposable tool.

And then he twists the knife deeper.

“Dulcie’s the one who deserves a throne,” he says, voice lowering. “Not Danica.”

Dulcie. My best friend. My only friend, if I’m being honest.

They’re in this together?

No. No. That can’t be right.

He laughs again, cruel and effortless. “Danica’s too soft, too trusting. She still freaking believes love is real. Idiot. That’s what makes her useful.”

My hands are shaking so bad the sonogram slips from my grip and lands softly on the floor behind a crate. Thank God no one hears it. But I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

I’m pregnant. With his children. Three of them. And he sees me as nothing more than a vault he picked open and looted. And Dulcie… she was helping him the whole time?

I slip out while they’re distracted, somehow managing not to scream, not to break, not to collapse. My heels echo faintly through the hall as I escape the dark maze beneath our estate.

Once I’m outside, the night air hits me like a slap. I clutch my stomach, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. My babies. I have to think of them. Not him. Not her. Not the betrayal boiling in my throat.

For a split second, the darkness whispers that it would be easier to disappear. To end this. But then I feel it—one small flutter in my belly.

I choke on a sob.

No. I’m not going to die.

Not for a man who sees me as a pawn.

Not for a best friend who traded me for a crown.

I return home, barely functioning. The walls feel the same, but everything inside me has changed.

Reagan is already there. Of course he is. Cool. Composed. An iceberg in human skin.

“You look pale,” he says, eyes scanning me like a threat under a microscope. “Everything alright?”

“Just tired,” I mutter, voice dull.

“Dulcie’s back, by the way,” he says casually. “She’s hosting a gala this weekend and wants you there.”

I blink slowly. Dulcie wants me there? After everything I just heard?

“She said she misses you,” he adds, like poison laced with sugar. “You two have been distant lately, haven’t you? She just wants things to go back to normal.”

Normal?

I nearly laugh. He’s testing me. Manipulating the narrative already—trying to gaslight me into thinking Dulcie and I just drifted apart… not that she stabbed me in the back.

I nod. What else can I do? Say no? He’ll twist it into some emotional guilt trap.

“Sure,” I whisper.

His eyes light up like he’s just won again. He steps closer, tries to kiss me—but I turn my face at the last second, his lips brushing my cheek.

“I’m exhausted,” I say, flat.

He studies me for a second, something calculating flickering behind his perfect smile. But he doesn’t push. Just hums, then pulls me into his arms.

“You’ll see,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “This is all for us.”

I lie there, stiff in his arms, staring at the ceiling. His breath evens out as he drifts off.

And I swear to God—I will never forget this moment.

You used me, Reagan.

You played me.

You turned my best friend into my enemy.

But you have no idea who you married.

I might’ve been your golden key.

But now?

Now, I’m the lock you’ll never pick again.

Chapter 2

The chandelier’s glow felt suffocating. The room spun with laughter, clinking glasses, and expensive perfume, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat—loud, erratic, drowning everything else.

I was standing in the middle of Dulcie’s grand return party, a celebration thrown in her honor after her ‘soul-searching’ trip to Europe. The woman who once swore she'd never abandon me had done just that—only to return with more money, more influence, and a smugness that made my stomach turn.

And as if the universe hadn't mocked me enough, he was here too.

Reagan.

His gaze was like a noose tightening around my throat. He hadn’t spoken to me much tonight, but when he did, it was a warning.

"Don’t embarrass me tonight, Danica. Be a good girl."

His fingers had gripped my wrist just hard enough to remind me—obedience wasn’t a choice.

I wanted to tell my father everything. He stood across the room, drink in hand, shaking hands with men twice his age and ten times as corrupt. If he knew what was happening to me, would he care?

No.

I had no illusions left about my father’s love. But still, I thought about it. About walking up to him and whispering the truth.

I’m pregnant, Dad. Reagan can’t know. I need help. He's going to kill us both.

But I knew better. My father never helped unless it benefited him. And telling him meant risking my babies’ lives. So I swallowed the words down like poison and smiled like I wasn’t suffocating.

And then, like a snake slithering into my space, she appeared.

“Oh my God, bestie!” Dulcie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me in a hug that felt more like a stranglehold. “I missed you so much!”

Her perfume was overwhelming—sweet, alluring, fake.

She pulled back, eyes scanning me from head to toe before her lips curled. “Dani, darling, you look so… shabby.”

My grip tightened on my glass.

Dulcie exhaled dramatically, touching my arm with faux concern. “Are you eating enough? You look so… plain. No wonder Reagan—” She cut herself off with a laugh. “Oops, never mind!”

She knew exactly what she was doing.

I forced a smile. “No wonder Reagan what?”

“Oh, don’t be sensitive,” she cooed, looping her arm through mine and lowering her voice. “I just mean… you should take better care of yourself. Look at me!” She twirled, letting her designer dress hug every curve. “Men go crazy for a woman who knows how to keep herself attractive. You should try it sometime.”

My nails dug into my palm.

She leaned in, whispering against my ear like we were sharing a secret. “You used to be so pretty, Dani. But now? You look so… tired. Maybe if you put in a little effort, he wouldn’t get bored so easily.”

The words were like a dagger twisting in my ribs.

She was toying with me. Playing the role of the concerned best friend, all while reminding me—without saying it outright—that she had Reagan wrapped around her finger.

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat.

I know what you are, Dulcie.

And I won’t forget.

---

An hour later, I found myself in the restroom, gripping the sink, trying to steady my breath.

I needed to leave. I needed air. I needed—

The door creaked open.

I turned, expecting some socialite fixing her makeup. Instead, I was met with Dulcie’s reflection in the mirror.

She smiled and locked the door behind her.

Something in my chest tightened.

“What do you want?”

Dulcie took her time walking over, setting her clutch on the counter. “I wanted a private moment with my best friend,” she purred. “Just us girls.”

I said nothing.

She sighed, tilting her head. “You look upset.”

“I’m fine.”

She tsked. “Liar.”

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a small velvet box, flipping it open with a flick of her fingers. Inside sat a massive diamond ring, gleaming under the fluorescent light.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” she mused. “Custom-made. Reagan picked it out himself.”

My stomach dropped.

She slipped the ring onto her finger, admiring it. “He has exquisite taste, don’t you think?”

I didn’t answer.

Her smile widened. “Oh, Danica… you poor thing,” she whispered, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I almost feel bad. Almost.”

I stared at her. “Feel bad for what?”

Dulcie’s eyes gleamed with cruelty. “Did you really think you were the only one?”

The world tilted.

She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve been together since a week after your wedding.”

The air was pulled out from my lungs.

She smirked. “And before you ask—yes. That was real.”

My blood ran cold.

“What are you talking about?”

She leaned in, lips brushing against my ear as she whispered the words that shattered me completely.

“The grand staircase. Four years ago. You weren’t dreaming. Reagan and I were in the middle of something unforgettable.”

My breath hitched.

I had forced myself to forget.

The night I thought was just a twisted hallucination—a fever dream, a nightmare—came rushing back with brutal clarity.

The sound of laughter. The scent of liquor and perfume.

Reagan. Dulcie.

Their bodies tangled together on the grand staircase. His mouth on her skin. Her soft sounds echoing through the halls. I stood there, frozen in time. Watching my best friend and my husband destroy me in real time. I was sick that time and I remember I collapsed on the floor and everything went dark.

Dulcie sighed, running a finger down the diamond on her ring. “You were so easy to fool. Always so obedient.”

Something inside me cracked.

I lifted my head, meeting her gaze.

She expected tears. A breakdown. Begging, maybe. Instead, I smiled. Slow. Cold. She faltered. Just a flicker. But I saw it.

Good.

I stepped closer, forcing her to step back.

“Well,” I murmured, voice calm, “enjoy it while it lasts.”

She frowned. “What?”

I brushed past her, unlocking the door.

She could keep her victory. For now.

But the game had only just begun.

Chapter 3

I couldn’t stay there. Not with her. Not with him.

I excused myself from the party, forcing a smile for the few people who stopped to ask if I was alright. My legs felt like they were made of lead as I navigated through the crowded room, the laughter of the guests a distant, suffocating hum in my ears. The weight of Dulcie’s words hung like a shroud around me, crushing my chest with every step.

I couldn’t stay in that house, surrounded by lies and betrayal.

Once I was in the car, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The ride home was a blur, my thoughts spinning too fast to focus. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break everything, shatter the world Reagan had built around me. But instead, I held it all in. For my babies.

When I got home, the house felt foreign. Empty. The walls seemed to close in on me, and I knew, deep in my bones, I couldn’t escape. Not from him. Not from this.

I tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. The memories of Dulcie’s smirk, her taunts, kept me awake. It was hours later when I heard the front door slam open. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and I could feel the fury in every step. Reagan.

I could almost hear the rage in his voice as he stormed into the bedroom. “Danica!” he snapped. “Get up!”

I rolled over, pretending to be asleep, but I knew it wouldn’t work. He was already standing over me, his anger crackling in the air like electricity.

“Wake up!” His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a brutal grip. “What is wrong with you? You ruin everything. The evening—my evening—was ruined because of you!”

I yanked my arm away from him, sitting up in bed, trying to shove the emotions down. “I had to leave,” I said quietly. “You didn’t expect me to stay and watch her—”

“I don’t want to hear about her, Danica!” He leaned over me, his face inches from mine, eyes burning with fury. “You embarrassed me. You humiliated me in front of everyone. Do you have any idea what that means?”

I couldn’t help it. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “You’ve been sleeping with her.”

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me. And then, with a cold smile, he said, “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.”

My heart twisted painfully. “You’ve been seeing her for years, haven’t you?”

He didn’t even flinch. “What did you expect, Danica? You think I’m going to sit here and be loyal to you? You’re nothing to me. Nothing.” His eyes glinted with satisfaction, watching the shock and pain spread across my face. “And if you think this is a betrayal, wait until you see the next one.”

I felt my stomach drop. “What?”

His smile widened, cruel and calculating. “You want the truth? Fine. I’ve been with her since one week after we got married. You were too busy playing the doting wife to notice. But I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. He stood there, looking at me with this sick satisfaction, this twisted sense of power.

“Why are you telling me this?” I finally whispered, barely able to hold myself together. “What’s the point of all this?”

The smile on his face faded, replaced with something colder. “Because, Danica… I don’t need you anymore. I never did. I’m done pretending. I’m done being the good husband. You’ve always been a means to an end. And now that Dulcie’s here, I don’t need you to play the part anymore.”

I could feel my heart breaking, piece by piece. This man, this monster, had never loved me. He never even liked me.

“I should’ve known,” I said, voice shaking with emotion. “I should’ve known when I saw you two together. Four years ago, on the staircase.”

His eyes flashed with irritation. “You’re still stuck on that?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re crazy, Danica. You’ve always been crazy. Just like your mother.”

The words stung more than anything. My mother. The woman who had slowly lost herself to the darkness, to the lies. And now, Reagan was using her as an excuse for his cruelty.

He stepped closer, his breath hot on my face. “Run, and I’ll bring your father’s empire to its knees. Titanis will fall. He’ll die knowing his daughter caused it.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. My father… I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t destroy him. Not for me.

“You’re trapped, Danica,” he said coldly, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You’ll stay with me. You’ll do as I say. Because if you don’t, everything you love will burn.”

My stomach turned. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw him out, to tear everything apart. But I couldn’t. Not while I carried these babies inside me. I was bound to this man, to this misery he’d built.

I thought I was done with the pain, that I had hit rock bottom. But then, as if fate had other plans, I saw something that froze my blood.

In the study, standing near the window, was Dulcie.

She was waiting for me.

I walked in, my feet moving before my brain had fully caught up.

“What the heck are you doing here?” I demanded.

Dulcie turned to face me, her lips curling into that familiar, venomous smile. “Oh, just making myself comfortable,” she purred. “You don’t mind, do you? I’m going to be staying here from now on.”

My vision blurred. I couldn’t take it anymore. “You—you are staying here?” I hissed, stepping toward her. “In my home? With him?”

She met my gaze with the kind of smugness only she could manage. “Oh, sweetie, I don’t think you have any say in this anymore.”

I was shaking with rage. My whole body trembled as I walked closer to her. “You’re a snake. A traitor. I trusted you. You’re nothing but a lying—”

Before I could stop myself, I lunged. I slammed her into the table, the force of it rattling the wood.

“You think you can take everything from me?” I growled, my fingers tightening around her shoulders. “You think you can just walk in here and ruin everything? You’re nothing but a backstabbing—”

Suddenly, the door slammed open.

Reagan stood there, his eyes blazing.

“Enough!” he roared, his face twisted in fury.

Before I could react, he was on me, his hands wrapping around my throat.

I drew in for breath, my vision blurring as he squeezed harder.

Dulcie stood behind him, pretending to cry, her hand pressed to her cheek. “He attacked me, Reagan! She’s crazy! She’s out of control!”

And just like that, Reagan let go of my throat and turned to her, as though nothing had happened.

He didn’t even hesitate.

He grabbed Dulcie, pulling her into a tight embrace, stroking her hair like she was the victim.

“Everything will be okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving me. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

And in that moment, I realized. I was nothing. To him. To Dulcie. “Lock that woman in the basement!” He ordered.

My heart dropped.

Chapter 4

The door slammed behind me with a finality that shook the floor beneath my feet. The heavy clang of the lock echoed through the stone walls like a death sentence.

I was in the basement. No windows. One flickering lightbulb. A rusted metal cot in the corner. A chipped ceramic bowl of what looked like gray mush and a plastic cup of water sat on the floor like some sick offering.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream.

But my hands trembled as I sat down, the cold concrete seeping into my skin like poison.

Then came his voice.

Low. Icy. Dripping with power.

"You exist because I allow it. Don’t forget that."

He leaned close, lips brushing my ear.

And then he walked away.

I sat there, frozen. Not just from the cold, but from the realization.

He wasn’t bluffing. Titanis wasn’t just a company—it was the vault of confidential defense data, global blueprints for weapons and technologies countries would go to war over.

He wanted inside. Through me.

And he was willing to destroy my father—worse, the world—just to own it.

The next days blurred.

Gray food. Half-cups of water. Silence.

I spoke to the guards once. Asked for help. The way they stared straight ahead, unmoving, uncaring—I might as well have been speaking to statues.

Reagan didn’t need whips or fists. He knew how to destroy someone by erasing them.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse—Dulcie appeared.

Her heels clicked smugly against the concrete. She stood on the other side of the bars, perfectly dressed... in my clothes. My silk robe. My diamond necklace. My ruby ring on her thumb which was my mother's gift.

“You always dressed too modest, darling,” she purred, her lips curved in a venomous smile. “But don’t worry. Your wardrobe finally found someone worthy.”

I clenched my fists until my nails bit skin.

“And that big bed upstairs?” she added with a giggle, “Let’s just say, it’s not so cold anymore.”

She laughed. Laughed until it echoed off the walls.

Her heels stopped inches from the cell bars, and her smile widened—sweet as cyanide.

“You know,” Dulcie said, twirling the gold locket around her neck—my mother’s locket, “I used to wonder what it felt like to be you. The Titanis Princess. The golden girl. Daddy’s genius. Now?” She leaned in, voice dropping to a mock whisper. “Now I just feel sorry for you.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But my throat burned.

She held up a photo. Faded. Torn at the edges. My mother and I, arms wrapped around each other. One of the few pictures I kept hidden in my bedside drawer.

She smiled, then slowly tore it in half. Right between our faces.

“She hated you, you know,” she hissed, letting the pieces flutter like ash. “Always talked about how you reminded her of the mistakes she couldn’t undo. But she loved me. Said I had potential.”

Lie. I knew it was a lie. I knew my mother too well before she died.

Her voice turned saccharine again. “Poor little Danica. You always had the grades, the looks, the press, the perfect life. But guess what?” She tapped her flat stomach. “I can give Reagan what you can’t.”

My jaw clenched.

“A child,” she said sweetly. “A real heir. One he wants. Not like your broken body. I mean... after all those miscarriages, those chemical pregnancies—what’s even left in there?” She laughed, cruel and loud. “Your uterus is basically a haunted house, isn’t it?”

I lurched forward, but the bars stopped me.

She smirked. “Touched a nerve? I’m sorry. I forgot you’re a little sensitive about being barren. But see, I’m everything you couldn’t be. He doesn't even flinch when he touches me.” Her fingers brushed her collarbone. “He whimpers. You? You were just a placeholder. The tech girl he had to tolerate until he found someone who could give him more than brainy tantrums and spreadsheets.”

She crouched, voice dripping with venom.

“You know what the real joke is?” she whispered. “I used to envy you. I hated how everyone compared us, even when my family had more money. More everything. But still—‘Why can’t you be more like Danica?’ ‘Why can’t you be smarter, Dulcie?’” Her lip curled. “All I ever heard. And now? Look at you. Alone. Filthy. Forgotten.”

She stood, brushing invisible dust from my robe.

“Thanks for the wardrobe, by the way. And the man. And the legacy. You can rot down here while I raise the next heir of Titanis... in your bed.”

She blew a kiss, then turned, her laughter slicing through the silence like glass.

When the echo finally faded, I stared at the shredded photo on the floor. My mother’s smile. My younger self.

My fingers curled over my belly again.

No.

She could wear my name. My robe. My mother’s necklace.

But she would never wear my legacy.

He could chain me down here, but he would never own what was growing inside me.

I stared at my reflection in the dusty metal door.

Where was she?

Where was Danica McKellar—heir to Titanis Global, the girl with the million-worth mind and an empire in her blood?

I touched my belly. The only part of me still warm.

Three heartbeats. Not just mine. Three tiny reasons to survive.

He could take everything. But he would not take them.

***

I waited.

Days passed. I pretended to weaken. I let my body sag, eyes dull, steps wobble.

And when the guard came—tall, impatient, annoyed—I collapsed into him like a dying animal.

“W-water,” I whispered, barely audible.

He caught me.

Wrong move.

My fingers found the weapon in his body before he even realized I was conscious.

The cold metal felt like freedom.

Crack.

I slammed the end of the pistol into his temple. He dropped. Hard. His keycard was in my hands before his body hit the ground.

I ran.

Not fast. My body was weak, but rage made me sharp. Silent. I knew this house. Every inch. Every creak. I slipped into Reagan’s office.

The man hadn’t changed a thing.

His desk sat like a throne, untouched by morality or conscience.

I opened the drawer, fingers trembling—and I planted two things inside:

My wedding ring. Scratched. Bent. Still warm from my skin.

The sonogram. Black and white and unforgiving.

Three little shapes. Three reasons he’d never sleep again.

But it wasn’t just a goodbye. It was a warning. A prophecy. Because I knew the truth. But I’d flipped the game. I left that sonogram not to break him.

Not yet. I left it to haunt him.

To remind him that his future—the one he tried to steal—was still inside me. Untouchable.

Because I wasn’t running to escape. I was running to be reborn. And when I returned, I wouldn’t be his wife. I’d be the huntress.

“You built an empire with my blood. I’ll make you drown in it.”

Not as a prisoner anymore.

Now, I was the reckoning.

And the mother of the empire he’d never control.

Chapter 5

Reagan had a vault hidden behind a fake panel in his office wall. Retinal scan, passcode, fingerprint—the man had enough secrets to start a war. I cracked it in under five minutes.

Stupid man.

He thought love was a chain, not a choice. Thought because I was his wife, I’d never turn on him. But he forgot I was raised by Titanis. I was forged in secrets. Programmed in shadows.

And I never forget how to play dead.

Inside, behind the rows of blood money and documents, sat a sleek black hard drive.

I knew what it was before I touched it.

Footage. Evidence. The kind of dirty gold that could set the world on fire.

Titanis raids that never made headlines.

Weapons trades sold under fake embargoes.

Hit lists signed with Reagan's personal seal.

All of it… under my father’s company name. But I knew better now. Titanis had become the playground of a serpent.

And I was done pretending not to see the fangs.

I didn’t know where else to go. So I called him.

Salvatore Ricci.

Once the man who swore he’d give me the world.

Now, a big-shot defense lawyer with three offices, a penthouse suite, and more power than most men dreamed of.

But that’s what the world saw.

What it didn’t see?

He was also Mr. X—the underworld’s most whispered nightmare. No one had seen his face. No one dared cross him. And wherever he went, he left behind a cold metal “X” like a signature.

Sal answered on the first ring.

“Danica.” His voice was low, calm, dangerous in its quiet.

“I... I need your help,” I whispered.

“Where are you?”

“Hiding. I need a favor.”

Another pause. Then, quietly, “Anything.”

That broke me. Just a little.

Because I left Salvatore. Not because I didn’t love him—but because my father told me Reagan was better for the business. Salvatore was just a lawyer before—no power, no name. My father told me he would kill Salvatore if I chose him. So I agreed with my father, thinking it was better for Titanis… and for myself. That Salvatore couldn’t provide for me. And I believed that. I convinced myself I loved Reagan. And what did I get?

Betrayal.

Blood.

Prison.

Salvatore arranged a meet. A safehouse on the outskirts of Montana. He didn’t ask questions. Just opened the door, pulled me inside, and hugged me like I hadn’t vanished off the face of the earth.

Like I was still someone worth saving.

***

I patched into the Titanis ghost channel that night.

A secure satellite line only my father and I knew existed. It took three passwords, one retinal scan, and my mother’s old wedding ring for biometric access.

His face flickered onto the screen.

“Danica?”

“Dad, listen. You need to disappear. Reagan is coming for you—he’s taking over Titanis from the inside—”

He sighed. “Sweetheart, I know you’re upset, but Reagan loves you. This—this paranoia isn’t you. Come home, we’ll fix this—”

Three shots.

Loud, deafening. My heart stopped.

I screamed his name. The screen shook. Blood sprayed across his collar. And then… Silence.

And then… His body collapsed backward, eyes open. Staring. Dead.

A hand reached into the camera view.

Reagan.

Smiling like a villain who’d finally dropped the act.

“Well. That was loud.”

I choked, frozen. “You… you killed him.”

“I warned you, didn’t I?” His voice dropped to a cruel whisper. “Come home, Danica. Before I lose my patience.”

And then she appeared behind him. Dulcie. Wearing one of my ruby necklaces like a trophy, sipping wine like it was her blood ritual.

“Oh Dani Bestie,” she purred into the mic. “Just because you escaped your cage doesn’t mean you’re free to roam. We just went out for a quick dinner… with Daddy. You broke the rules.”

She leaned closer to the screen, eyes gleaming.

“His eyes are still open, you know. Very dramatic.”

I screamed and threw the laptop across the room.

Salvatore caught it midair before it hit the floor. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the last frozen frame of Reagan and Dulcie, grinning like wolves.

“…I’m going to kill them,” he said flatly.

His calm terrified me more than their threats.

That night, I curled into a corner of the safehouse bunker. Sal’s men posted outside like sentinels. The hard drive was locked in a steel case, guarded by a man who had once burned a cartel alive for touching his sister.

Reagan put a bounty on my head the next morning. Five million.

Posters. Hacked databases. Underworld whispers.

The name “Danica De Santis” became cursed.

The traitor wife. The stolen drive. The ticking bomb. Operatives of Titanis were raided across the country. Reagan was dismantling my father’s legacy with surgical precision.

But he didn’t know I wasn’t just surviving.

I was evolving.

Salvatore got me into a blacksite bunker in the Rockies. No names. No signals. No trackers.

Just ex-spies, elite mercs, a war table, and enough firepower to rewrite the narrative.

We started building my fake death.

Creating a ghost story.

Letting the world believe I was gone.

But I wasn’t gone. I was hunting.

And when I came back?

It wouldn’t be as Reagan’s wife.

It would be as his end.

Chapter 6

Faking your death is an art. Not just smoke and mirrors. It’s blood. Fire. Teeth. The explosion rocked the safehouse at dawn. The flames devoured the walls, the air itself twisted from the heat.

Salvatore had everything ready. The dental remains, perfectly matching mine.

My blood, drawn weeks ago, splattered like a sacrifice.

Even the ring—my mother’s—left at the scene like a symbol. I watched from a nearby cliff, far from the chaos. The flames reflected in my eyes, but there were no tears.

I didn’t mourn the woman they thought I was.

She died the day Reagan decided I was disposable.

We paid one of his trusted men to “confirm” the body. Loyal enough to be believed. Corrupt enough to be bought. He called it in.

Voice trembling, like a man haunted.

“She’s dead. There’s nothing left but ash.”

The bounty lifted.

The manhunt ceased.

Danica De Santis was a memory now. A ghost.

***

The jet was sleek. Silent. Fast.

Salvatore sat across from me, dressed like a god of war wrapped in custom Italian silk.

No longer the broken-hearted boy I once left behind.

Now, a shadow king feared by all—Mr. X.

But right now?

He was just the man flying me far from darkness.

“Facility in Mexico is locked down. Private doctors. Guards. No one gets in or out unless I say so.”

He didn’t need to say it. I trusted him.

The jet cut through the clouds, slicing the sky like a blade. I sat back, fingers curled over my belly.

They kicked at the same time.

I smiled.

“They took everything from me,” I whispered. “Now I take everything back.”

Salvatore leaned forward, his eyes steel and fire.

“Do you want me to finish this for you? I can. Say the word, and I’ll erase him. Her. All of them.”

I looked up. Met his gaze.

Strong. Unwavering.

“No,” I said. “I want to end it. On my own terms.”

He smiled, slow and wicked. A man who understood vengeance in its purest form.

I looked out the window again, the stars opening wide above us like gates to another world.

“I’ll be back,” I said softly. “Not as his wife. Not as a pawn.”

Salvatore nodded once. “As the queen hunting her king.”

And so the jet flew on.

Carrying the ghost of a woman reborn.

Carrying the reckoning that would shake every throne. They thought they buried me.

They forgot—

I rise.

***

Reagan POV

She’s dead.

Danica De Santis is dead.

The news hit me like a high—pure, alluring.

One call, one report, one firestorm.

Burnt body. Ring confirmed. Blood everywhere.

A fitting end for someone who thrived in chaos.

I poured myself a drink—top shelf, aged in silence like my fury—and sat in my throne of a chair, legs wide, power stretched across every inch of this mansion.

“No one crosses me and walks away,” I muttered, tilting the glass.

Dulcie curled up on the couch like the venomous snake she is, laughing in that annoying high-pitched tone she thinks sounds alluring.

“She really thought she could run. Dumb girl. She left looking like a corpse—guess now she is one.”

I smirked. “Told her. Didn’t I? Told her to be a good girl. Told her I allow her to exist.”

But then—

Then I walked into my office.

Just to grab a file. Nothing big.

Until I opened my desk drawer.

And saw it. A folded sonogram.

Black and white. Unmistakable.

Triplets.

Triplets.

Three. Three heirs.

My drink slipped from my fingers.

Shattered on the floor like my freaking soul.

“What the—” I snatched the sonogram, eyes locked on those tiny forms. “No. No. No, no, no—”

And then I saw it.