When a knock sounds on the door two hours later, I am still pissed.
I yank the door open, ready to snap again.
Alexey stands there, expression carefully neutral, though I can see the tension in his shoulders. “The doctor will be here in an hour. We should talk before she arrives.”
“Talk? Or issue more orders?” I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“Anja…” His eyes narrow slightly.
“No,” I interrupt, the hurt and fear spilling out. “You don’t get to just decide I’m moving to the compound like I have no say. You’re acting like I’m already some fragile little thing you need to lock away for safekeeping. Maybe you’re old enough to be my baby’s grandpa, so you think you know best, right?”
The words fly out sharper than I intend, laced with the age gap I’d thrown at him before as a shield. Thirteen years. It has always been a convenient weapon when I feel cornered.
Alexey goes very still. For a moment, I think I’ve gone too far. Then he exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, the same weary gesture I saw the other night when he thought no one was watching.
“I’m not trying to control you,” he says, voice low. “I’m trying to protect you. Both of you. The compound has layers of security that the penthouse can’t match. Arina and Katya are there. Tikhon. People who will help if you need it. This isn’t about me being older or thinking I know best. It’s about making sure Fadir never gets close enough to hurt you or our child.”
The fight drains out of me as quickly as it has risen. I look down at my still-flat stomach, the reality of the tiny life inside hitting me all over again.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly. “Everything is changing so fast. The pregnancy… us… moving. I feel like I’m losing control again.”
“You’re not losing control. You’re gaining a family that will stand behind you. But I won’t apologize for putting your safety first. Not now.” Alexey steps closer, but doesn’t touch me.
I meet his eyes, seeing the raw protectiveness there again. The same look he wore when I showed him the test. It terrifies me how much I want to believe him.
“Fine,” I whisper. “We’ll move. But I’m not happy about it.”
“Noted.” A ghost of his small half-smile appears. He turns to leave, then pauses. “The doctor will be gentle. And I’ll be right there with you.”
I nod, watching him walk away down the hall.
The walls between us cracked the night we first came together.
Now, with this baby and the forced move to the compound, they feel dangerously close to shattering completely. I still don’t know if I am ready for what lies on the other side.
Chapter 18 - Alexey
The doctor confirmed a healthy pregnancy that afternoon.
Dr. Elena Morozova arrived at the penthouse perfectly on time, her black medical bag discreet and her manner calm and professional. She conducted the exam in the guest suite with quiet efficiency. She did some bloodwork and an ultrasound before asking gentle questions about symptoms.
Anja sits on the edge of the bed, pale but composed, her hand occasionally drifting to her still-flat stomach as if reassuring herself that the tiny life inside is real.
I stand by the window, arms crossed, watching every movement. When the ultrasound screen flickered to life, and the faint, rapid heartbeat filled the room, something primal unlocked in my chest. A strong, steady rhythm. Healthy. Our child.
“Everything looks excellent for this stage,” Dr. Morozova says, wiping the gel from Anja’s skin with a warm cloth. “You’re roughly a few weeks along. Continue with the prenatal vitamins, rest when the nausea hits, and we’ll schedule regular check-ins. Any questions?”
Anja shakes her head, voice small. “Not right now.”
I walk the doctor out, thank her, and make the arrangements on the spot. Within two hours, bags are packed, security detail is doubled, and the SUV is waiting in the underground garage.
“We’re moving to the family compound for your safety,” I tell Anja as I carry her suitcase to the elevator. “The penthouse is secure, but the estate has more protection, family close by, andfar less exposure to any remaining reach Fadir might have. It’s not negotiable.”
She doesn’t argue this time. The fight from this morning has drained out of her, replaced by quiet exhaustion and the weight of a new reality. She simply nods and follows me into the car.
The drive to the Sokolov estate is silent except for the low rumble of the engine. When we arrive, the iron gates open smoothly, and the sprawling stone mansion comes into view under the afternoon sun.
I led Anja to the family wing, a private section with its own entrance, reinforced security, and direct access to the main house. Her new suite is larger than the guest room at the penthouse: soft neutral tones, a king bed already made with fresh linens, windows overlooking the gardens, and an adjoining sitting area.
