Thursday, 1:09 a.m.
Location: Ricci Compound — Kitchen, Too Many Secrets
Frankie's nails dug into my hand, her breathing uneven, when the kitchen door creaked.
Vince walked in.
Of course. The one sibling who noticed everything.
He froze in the doorway, his lawyer-mask cracking for just a second when he saw Frankie on the tile, streaked mascara and all. His gaze flicked from her face, to her stomach, to me crouched beside her in lace sleepwear like some rejected soap opera extra.
"What happened?" His voice was low, sharp. Not gentle, not yet.
Frankie turned her face away, shoulders curling. "Don't, Vince. Please. Not now."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "She—she found her mate."
Something flickered across Vince's face. Not shock. Not joy either. He just… recalculated. Like he was doing courtroom math in his head.
"And?" he prompted, tone careful.
Frankie's lips trembled. "She doesn't want me. Not with the baby."
Vince shut his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose. He set his briefcase on the counter with a dull thud, like the weight of a thousand legal loopholes wasn't heavier than this.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "We'll fix it."
Frankie let out a strangled laugh, bitter through the tears. "You can't lawyer someone into loving me."
Vince crouched down, his hand hovering near her shoulder but not touching. "No. But I can make sure she never hurts you again. Or this family."
My chest tightened. For Vince, that wasn't comfort. That was a verdict.
He finally settled on a crouch beside us, smoothing his tie like he was about to walk into court instead of sit on a kitchen floor at one in the morning. His voice was steady, cold, lawyer-sharp.
"By law," he said, looking straight at Frankie, "a fated mate bond is binding. She doesn't get to pick and choose. You're carrying an Alpha heir—our heir. If she refuses you, I can drag her into court. She'll be forced to acknowledge the bond and accept responsibility for the child. End of story."
Frankie flinched like the words were another blow. "Vince… I don't want to force her."
He didn't blink. "You don't have to want it. It's your right. And I will make her comply."
I tightened my grip on Frankie's hand and glared at him. "Great plan, Counselor. Really romantic. Nothing says 'true love' like a subpoena."
Vince's jaw ticked. "This isn't about romance, Sophia. It's about family. Legitimacy. Protecting Frankie's child—"
"Or," I cut in, leaning forward, "we play smarter."
Both of them looked at me.
"Jealousy works. Always. We don't mention a fated mate, we don't make it official. Frankie goes public—TikTok, Instagram, everywhere. She dates. Casual, messy, visible. We make her look untouchable, desired, too good to waste. If her mate's really bonded? She'll crack. She'll come crawling back without us ever stepping foot in a courtroom."
Frankie blinked through her tears, mascara smudged. "You want me to… fake date for TikTok?"
"Not fake," I said with a wicked little grin. "Just… curated. Fun. You don't owe her your heartbreak on a platter. Let her watch you thrive and choke on it."
For a second, silence hung heavy in the kitchen.
Then Frankie let out a broken laugh, shaky but real. "That's… evil."
"Fun evil," I corrected, squeezing her hand. "The best kind."
Vince pinched the bridge of his nose like he was aging in real time. "God help me, you're both insane."
"Insane?" I shot back. "No. Effective."
And then the idea slammed into me so fast I almost laughed. Oh, I knew exactly who to call.
"Frankie," I said, trying to sound casual, "what do you think about Diego Perez?"
Her brows pinched. "Diego? The smuggler? He's in Sin City."
"Correction—he's on holiday from Sin City. He posted two stories on Instagram this morning. From our pizzeria. The man is very available."
Frankie blinked. "You're joking."
I shook my head, grinning. "Nope. He's reckless, charming in that infuriating Alpha way, and he owes me a favor. Exactly the kind of guy to stir up trouble and make your mate jealous without even trying."
Vince groaned like I'd just stabbed him in his legal soul. "Absolutely not. Perez is chaos on legs. You bring him anywhere near Frankie, it'll end up in body bags and subpoenas."
"Or views," I countered sweetly. "Big, glossy TikTok views. Picture it: Frankie Ricci, radiant Alpha mom-to-be, dinner date with handsome alpha. Harmless flirting, nothing serious, but enough to get tongues wagging. You don't think her mate's going to feel that bond snap like a whip? She'll crack faster than Vince's nerves at a tax audit."
Frankie let out a shaky little laugh, color returning to her cheeks. "You're evil."
"Fun evil," I repeated with a wink.
Vince dragged both hands down his face. "This family is going to be the death of me."
"Relax," I said, already thumbing open my phone. "I've got this."
Frankie wiped at her cheeks, half-dreading, half-curious. "Sophia… don't actually—"
Too late. I was already typing.
To: Diego Perez
Hey, chaos gremlin. Vacation's over.
Meet me at the pizzeria tomorrow night.
Need you to flirt with my sister.
Make jokes, look dangerous, nothing serious.
Payment: free pizza + endless Ricci protection.
It took about thirty seconds. The typing bubbles popped up, then disappeared, then came back like he was laughing to himself.
From: Diego Perez
Flirt with Frankie Ricci? Twist my arm, princesa.
Which dress should I wear: "charming criminal" or "federal nightmare"?
I snorted. "He's in."
Vince pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it looked painful. "You just weaponized Diego Perez. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes," I said brightly. "It means Frankie's TikTok is about to break the algorithm."
Frankie groaned into her hands. "I hate this plan."
"Correction," I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket, "you hate that it's going to work."