Page 101 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
My stomach twists.
Something glints in the dim light beside the bed. A small, folded slip of paper.
No.
I already know what it is before I reach for it. Already know it will destroy me before I even open it.
My hands tremble as I unfold the note. The writing is hurried, uneven, like she forced herself to do this quickly before she lost her nerve.
I’m sorry, Marco.
Three fucking words. That’s all.
Everything inside me goes still.
I read it again, my eyes tracing the jagged loops of her handwriting, as if more words might materialize. As if there might be some explanation, some clue, some reason that will make this make sense.
I’m sorry, Marco.
My fingers clench around the paper, the edges crumpling under the pressure. My heart slams against my ribs, and a violent heat surges through my veins, burning away the last remnants of whatever the fuck she gave me.
She drugged me.
The thought comes fast and sharp, cutting through the confusion like a blade. That’s why my head feels like it’s full of sand. That’s why my limbs are slow, why I slept so fucking deeply.
She planned this.
She planned it down to the last goddamn second.
I explode off the bed, the chair crashing to the floor as I move. My body shakes with adrenaline, my pulse hammering as I tear through the room, scanning for anything—any sign of where she went, how long she’s been gone.
The sheets still hold her warmth, but barely.
I shove open the closet doors, fists clenching as I register what’s missing. A single change of clothes. The cash she kept hidden behind the books on the shelf.
A vicious roar builds in my chest, but I choke it down, dragging my hands through my hair, pacing, thinking.
How the fuck did she get past my men?
I grab my phone off the nightstand, but before I can dial, I hear footsteps—fast, urgent—pounding toward my room.
A sharp knock. Then Adriano’s voice. "Boss, we have a problem."
No fucking shit.
I yank the door open so hard it slams against the wall. Adriano barely flinches. His face is grim, tense, confirming what I already know before the words even leave his mouth.
"She’s gone," I say first. My voice is low, dangerous.
Adriano nods. "Security caught movement near the south perimeter about an hour ago. Back gate was open when we checked."
I swear, the sound tearing from my throat sharp and vicious. My hands curl into fists, my jaw clenching so hard I feel the crack of pressure in my skull.
"She had help," I bite out.
No way she did this alone. No way she slipped past the guards, arranged transport, and vanished without someone covering her tracks.
Adriano shifts on his feet. "I have it that someone arranged a car."
