Page 62 of Tattooed Vow

Talia moves to stand in front of me, taking both my hands in hers. “Listen to me. Growing up without a mother doesn't mean you can't be one. And yes, the Bratva life is complicated, but look at what Aleksandr and I have built. Sasha and Maxim are thriving despite everything they've been through, and Angelina is the most loved baby in all of New York.”

“You were meant for this,” I point out. “You've always had that nurturing instinct, even when we were kids. Me? I'm still figuring out how to exist in this world.”

“And you're doing remarkably well,” she counters. “Besides, you’ve always taken care of me, and I think I turned out pretty great,” she chuckles. “Whatever you decide, I'll support you. But don't make that decision out of fear.”

A knock at the door interrupts our conversation. The doctor enters, a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and a direct manner.

“Ms. Davis?” she asks, consulting the chart. “Your test is positive. Based on the date of your last period, you're approximately five weeks pregnant.”

Though I suspected it, hearing the confirmation makes the room spin. Five weeks. That would put conception right around...

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated,” the doctor continues, “which is common in early pregnancy, but I'd like to monitor it. How are you feeling about this news?”

“I...” My voice fails me.How am I feeling?Terrified. Confused. And somewhere beneath all that, a tiny spark of something I’m ready to admit.

“She's processing,” Talia supplies when I don’t respond. “It's unexpected news.”

The doctor nods understandingly. “That's perfectly normal. I'll give you some information about your options and prenatal care, should you decide to continue with the pregnancy.” She hands me several pamphlets. “Do you have any questions for me today?”

I shake my head mutely.

“Alright. I'd like to see you back in two weeks if you decide to continue the pregnancy. In the meantime, start taking prenatal vitamins and try to eat small, frequent meals if you're experiencing morning sickness.”

After the doctor leaves, I stare at the pamphlets in my hands. One depicts a smiling woman cradling her pregnant belly. Another lists resources for prenatal care. A third outlines options for unplanned pregnancy.

“I can't do this,” I whisper, the pamphlets blurring as tears fill my eyes.

“Sandy, look at me,” Talia says firmly. When I raise my eyes to meet hers, she continues. “You absolutely can do this—whatever 'this' ends up being. But you don't have to decide everything right now.”

I take a shaky breath. “Dimitri will want me to keep it.”

“Probably,” she agrees. “But that doesn't mean you have to.”

“If I don't...” I swallow hard, “and he finds out, he'll never forgive me.”

“If he loves you, he'll respect your choice, even if it hurts him.”

I’m not so sure. The Bratva has strict codes of conduct regarding family and loyalty. A child, especially a son, will cement my place in Dimitri's world. To reject that will be to deny an honor many would kill for.

But I’m not thinking about honor, the Bratva, or even Dimitri's feelings. I’m thinking about a little girl shuttled from one foster home to another, learning the hard way that love was conditional and temporary.

“I don't know if I can love a child the way it deserves,” I admit, voicing my deepest fear.

Talia's expression softens. “The fact that you're worried about that tells me you already have more capacity for love than you realize. Remember how fiercely you used to protect me when we were kids? How you'd go hungry so I could eat?”

“That's different. You're my sister.” I sniffle.

“What about Angelina, Sasha, and Maxim? You’d protect them with your life, and you love them deeply.”

Talia gently runs her fingers through my hair and gives me a tissue.

“This would be your child,” she says softly. “And if you choose to keep it, I know you’d move heaven and earth for them.”

She reaches out and brushes away a stray tear with quiet tenderness.

We leave the clinic silently, the reality of my situation spinning around in my mind. Yuri and Pavel are waiting exactly where we left them, alert and watchful. Neither asks questions as we slide into the backseat, though I catch Yuri's concerned glance in the rearview mirror.

“Back to the estate,” Talia instructs and Yuri nods, pulling smoothly into traffic.

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