“Any allergies we’re aware of? Current medical conditions?”
The second man shook his head, forcing me to interject, “She’s pregnant.”
Both men’s heads jackknifed to me in sync. They were so caught up assessing Justine, they hadn’t noticed me in the room.Their diligence has served them well to date.
The head surgeon wasn’t pleased by my appearance, but he used my knowledge to his advantage. “What caused her injuries?”
I rattled off everything that happened the prior four days.
He was shocked. “And this?” He pointed to the rippled skin covering a majority of Justine’s right ribcage.
“She was mauled by a dog.”
“A dog?” His remorse couldn’t be missed.
It had nothing on mine when I replied, “Yes. Five years ago.”
Justine made a low, painful groan when the surgeon pushed on her stomach. I hated that she was in pain, but the fact she made a sound was promising.
My eyes danced between the surgeon’s when he headed my way. “We need to stop the bleeding. The blood in her abdomen is compromising her organs. If we don’t control the flow, she could go into cardiac arrest.”
I nodded, understanding him. I underwent a similar operation a few weeks after my sixteenth birthday.
“And the baby?”
The surgeon’s face went a little white. “We don’t know yet. We’ll do everything we can to stop further impact to the fetus, but our efforts will be focused on Justine’s wellbeing.”
I felt like I was sucker-punched. His hit was so forceful, before I could comprehend what I was doing, I was standing on the other side of the swinging operating doors. . .
I lose my train of thought when a grunt sounds through my ears. The noise didn’t come from the man shackled to the ceiling as he watches Rico unroll his bag of tricks. It came from behind my shoulder.
“Eww. Why is his head hanging like that?”
I leave my front row seat to a private execution when a pair of icy blue eyes swing my way.
“Is he a bad man, Daddy?”
With a growl warning her it’s way past her bedtime, I scoop Mila into my arms and briskly exit the room. We walk the halls commonly referred to as the “dungeon” without a word spoken between us. Mila is just like me—a rule breaker in every sense of the word—but she knows some rules can never be broken, such as interrupting me while I’m at “work.”
When we step over the threshold no woman in the Popov household is game to cross, a handful of housemaids rush to my side, more than eager to take Mila off my hands.
I shoo them away without words.Daddy’s little girl is in his arms, and I’m not giving her up for anything.
“Where’s Mama?” I ask Mila as we climb the large spiral staircase that leads to the main sleeping quarters.
Mila lets out a big yawn. “She’s sick again.”
“Is that why you came to find me? Cause Mama is sick?” The hammering of my heart is heard in my low timbre.
Mila’s big blue eyes seek mine as she contemplates whether to tell me the truth or not. She doesn’t deliberate for long. “No. I wanted to play with Uncle Rico and you.”
She is only four, but I know she isn’t referring to the Barbie dolls Justine attempts to entice her with every day. Mila is an exact replica of me. Same eyes. Same hair coloring.Same black-veined heart.There is just one difference. She walked through the gates of hell while in her mother’s womb. I marched through them after I was born.
Mila is the baby Justine fought with all her might to save four and a half years ago. A little dark-haired girl with the smile of Satan but the beauty to lure an angel into believing she’s a saint.
She’s a female version of me.
Toby, on the other hand, he’s just like his mother. He’s shy and reserved, preferring to watch from afar before putting his precisely thought-out actions into play. His hair is as red as his mother’s, and his face is just as sweet. He’s such a laidback little guy, who has never once voiced annoyance that Mila snagged the title of “heir” by racing into the world seven minutes and thirteen seconds before him.
