Page 135 of His Darkest Obsession
Amara squeezes my hand before disappearing into the stall with her test. The wait feels endless, though it's probably only a minute before she comes back out.
"Mine's negative too," she says.
Svetlana hands me the second test. My hands are trembling so badly I can barely hold it. "One more time, just to be sure."
I don't want to. God, I don't want to. But I force myself back into the stall anyway.
When I emerge, I don't need to say anything.
My face tells them everything they need to know.
Two lines. Again.
There's no denying the truth now.
"We need to go back to the mansion," Svetlana says firmly, her hand on my shoulder. "Tolya will want to know about this."
But what doIwant?
The question jolts through me. Everyone's making decisions about my life again. Just like before. Just like always.
If I'd found out a week ago when I thought Anatoly truly loved me, I would've been ecstatic.
Terrified, yes, but also... happy. A baby is one thing, but a baby that is wanted is something else entirely.
I rest my hand on my still-flat stomach. Inside me is a tiny life. Something that's half me and half... him. Something we created during those nights when I thought what we had was real.
Yet even now… After I've overheard him swear that oath, and after I realized I was just another chess piece in his game with Bennet.
It won't change how I feel about our child growing in my belly.
As soon as I think that, I can see Valentina's cold eyes, feel the way she pressed her hand against my stomach, and hear her promise to "do what's necessary" if there was a baby.
No. My jaw clenches. A surge of fierce protectiveness rushes through me. I won't let you take.
I don't care if Anatoly only loves the bratva. I don't care if this wasn't planned. This ismychild, and I won't let anyone take this baby away from me. Not Valentina. Not the bratva. Not even Anatoly himself.
I'm done letting others make decisions about my own fucking body.
"Miels?" Amara's voice breaks through my thoughts.
"Don't tell him," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet."
"But—" Svetlana starts.
"Please," I beg, grabbing her arm. "Just give me a few days to get my thoughts together. Let me be the one to do it. When I'm ready."
Amara looks between us, concerned. "Are you sure?"
"I am," I say. "Promise me."
Svetlana stares at me for several agonizing seconds, her blue eyes searching mine. Finally, she nods.
"Alright. I'll keep this a secret," she says. "Now let's go home."
The mansion isquiet when we return, almost too quiet. The sun has just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and blues. I'm still trying to process everything that happened at the café, my mind racing with a thousand conflicting thoughts.
Both about when and how I'll tell Anatoly, and about the life growing inside of me.
