"It's been three months! Three months of nothing. Maybe he gave up. Maybe he moved on."
"Men like Patrick don't give up." Lev moves closer, cups my face. "They plan. They wait. They strike when you least expect it. And I will not risk you or our baby because you're bored."
I want to argue. Want to push back against the cage he's built around me.
But I understand.
Pregnant women are targets. Especially when they're carrying the child of a Bratva boss whose enemy wants revenge.
Patrick knows I'm the key to destroying Lev emotionally. Knows that hurting me, hurting the baby, would devastate him in ways no business loss ever could.
So I stay. Trapped in luxury. Safe and suffocating in equal measure.
It happens during breakfast.
I'm reaching for the orange juice when my shirt rides up slightly. Just an inch. Enough to show the curve of my stomach that's become impossible to hide in anything fitted.
Mila goes completely still across the table. Fork suspended midair. Eyes locked on my exposed skin.
Then she drops the fork. It clatters against her plate.
"Valerie." Her voice is small. Shaking. "Why is your tummy big?"
My hand flies to my shirt, tugging it down. Lev freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.
"Sweetheart—" I start.
"Are you sick?" She stands abruptly, chair scraping. "Is it cancer? Is that why you've been throwing up every morning, and Papa won't let you leave, and everyone's being weird?"
"No, baby, I'm not sick—"
Lev and I have delayed telling her because her nightmares have worsened over the past few months, and we've been waiting for them to quiet down so that the news of another sibling doesn't trigger her even more.
"Then why?" She's crying now. Full tears streaming down her face. "Why does your stomach look like that? What's wrong with you?"
Lev sets down his cup. "Mila,Cielo,come here."
"No!" She backs away from the table. "Tell me what's wrong! Tell me why Valerie's sick! I heard Mikhail talking about protecting her and the—" She stops. Eyes going wide. "The baby."
The word hangs in the air.
"You're going to have a baby?" Her voice cracks. "Like Mama did? Before the bad men came?"
Oh God. She thinks this ends the same way. Thinks history is repeating.
I'm around the table before I can think. Kneeling in front of her despite the protest from my lower back. "Mila, look at me. I'm having a baby, yes. But nothing bad is going to happen. Your papa won't let it."
"He didn't stop it before." The words are quiet. Devastating. "The bad men came anyway. And Mama and Dmitri—"
"That's not going to happen again." Lev is beside us now, voice firm but gentle. "I promise you, Mila. What happened to your mama won't happen to Valerie."
"How do you know?" She's sobbing. "How can you promise that?"
"Because I'm not that man anymore." He pulls her into his arms. "The man who lost your mama wasn't prepared. Wasn't paranoid enough. Wasn't ruthless enough. But I am now. And I will burn the entire world down before I let anyone hurt Valerie or the baby."
She cries against his chest. I stay kneeling beside them, hand on her back, letting her process.
After several minutes, the sobs slow. She pulls back enough to look at me. "You're really having a baby? Papa's baby?"
