Page 10 of Porcelain Vows

Something flickers across his face—understanding, perhaps. A moment of humanity breaking through his professional facade. “That’s also possible. Emotional memories can be… complicated.”

Complicated would be a fucking understatement. I turn away from him, staring out the window at the manicured grounds of the clinic. Complicated is what we were before. When I was keeping her in my home while our child grew within her. This is something else entirely— something that I have absolutely no control over. I fucking hate that.

“Will her memory return?” The question comes out with more urgency than I like.

“Perhaps with time. We can’t make any guarantees, but there’s no significant physical damage to her brain. That’s a positive sign. For now, it’s likely temporary.”

I absorb this information, turning it over in my mind. “The baby.” My voice is tight with tension I can’t fully conceal. Stella may have forgotten everything, but that child is still there, still growing inside her.

“That was our first concern,” he assures me. “The baby is perfectly fine. And…” he allows himself a small smile, “we can now confirm it’s a girl.”

A girl.

My mouth opens and closes. The words leave my head spinning, but in the best possible way. A daughter. I’m going to have a daughter. For a moment, I forget everything else— the memory loss, the trauma, all of it. I’m just a man learning he’s going to have a little girl. Something unfamiliar swells in my chest, something I haven’t felt since Bobik was born. It’s warm and terrifying all at once. A daughter with Stella’s green eyes, perhaps. A tiny, fragile thing who will depend on me completely.

“And Bobik?” I ask, dragging myself back to reality. My mind is still reeling from the news about my daughter, but my son— my firstborn— remains at the forefront of my mind. “Do you have any updates on my boy?”

“The immediate danger has passed,” Malhotra says, sending relief surging through me. His confident tone loosens something tight in my chest that I hadn’t even realized was constricting my breathing. “He’ll need to remain in the sterile room for at least two weeks to prevent any infections, but he’s stable.”

I exhale slowly, measuring my reaction.

Two children to protect now. Two lives utterly dependent on me. The weight of it settles on my shoulders— not unwelcome, but heavy nonetheless. My boy has survived the worst of it. That’s what matters for now.

He studies me for a long moment, his expression softening. “Mr. Tarasov, you need to go home. You’re exhausted,and having two loved ones in the hospital is taking its toll. Get some rest. Come back tomorrow with a clear head.”

I want to argue, to insist on staying, but even I can feel the bone-deep weariness setting in. My body feels like lead, and the sharp edges of my thoughts have dulled to a dangerous fog. This isn’t like me— I never show weakness, never falter. Yet here I am, swaying slightly on my feet while a doctor tells me what to do.

“You’ll call if anything changes?” I demand, my voice slightly hoarse.

“Of course. I’m personally overseeing both of their cases. They’re in good hands.” Malhotra’s calm confidence is the only thing keeping me from ordering my men to surround this place.

I nod, knowing he’s right but hating it anyway. The thought of leaving either of them makes my chest tight, but I’m no good to anyone in this state. I’ve pushed through worse— gunshot wounds, knife fights, three-day negotiations— but this kind of helplessness drains something deeper than physical energy. It strips away the control I’ve built my entire life around.

As I walk toward the exit, my mind races. A daughter. A little girl who will need protecting in this dangerous world I’ve built around us. And her mother, who looks at me like a stranger— or worse, like someone to fear.

The irony doesn’t escape me. Stella’s memory loss might be a blessing in disguise— she doesn’t remember anything from before. Doesn’t remember how I practically locked her up. Doesn’t know why she might want to hate me. But the thought brings no comfort. Instead, it feels like another betrayal to add to my growing list.

I reach my car and sit behind the wheel, not starting the engine. The events of the past few days crash over me like waves— Bobik’s failed operation, Stella’s kidnapping, the shooting, and now this. It’s too much, even for me.

For the first time in years, I feel completely powerless. I can’t shoot my way out of this problem. Can’t threaten or bribe or manipulate the situation to my advantage.

All I can do is wait and hope— two things I’ve never been good at.

I start the car, its powerful engine rumbling to life. As I pull out of the hospital parking lot, I make myself a promise. Whether Stella remembers me or not, whether she ever forgives me or not, I’ll protect her and our daughter with everything I have.

Even if that means protecting them from myself.

Chapter Five

Stella

I trace my fingers over the yellowing bruise on my forearm, a mark from something I can’t remember.

Days have passed since I opened my eyes in this hospital bed, greeted by strangers in white coats and a mind wiped clean.

“Textbook recovery,” Dr. Malhotra said this morning, checking my chart. “Your body is healing nicely.”

He’s right. I no longer need to grip the wall when I shuffle to the bathroom, and the ice pick behind my eyes has dulled to an occasional throb.

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