Little did I know what would happen once I left the confines of the Sokolov compound.
The drive into the city feels almost normal. Antone is quiet and professional behind the wheel, the black SUV smooth and secure. I watch the scenery pass as trees give way tobuildings, the familiar rhythm of city life that feels both distant and comforting after weeks at the estate.
I call Alexey when we leave the compound, then again when we arrive at the private clinic. He answers on the first ring both times, his voice steady but laced with that underlying tension I’ve come to recognize as love wrapped in worry.
The appointment itself goes well. Dr. Morozova is warm and thorough, confirming the baby is growing perfectly. I hear the heartbeat again, it’s strong and fast, and for a few precious minutes, the fear recedes.
I leave the clinic smiling, one hand resting lightly over my gently rounded belly, already imagining telling Alexey about the latest measurements.
I’m halfway to the SUV when everything changes.
Fadir steps out from behind a parked car near the curb, his eyes wild and desperate. He looks thinner than the last time I saw him, his clothes slightly rumpled, the charming mask he once wore completely shattered. Two of his men hover a few steps behind him, trying to look casual but failing.
“Anja.”
My blood turns to ice. I freeze, heart slamming against my ribs. Antone is already moving, stepping between us, but Fadir holds up his hands in a placating gesture.
“I just want to talk,” he says, voice pleading but edged with something darker. “Please. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Stay away from me.” I shake my head, backing toward the SUV.
“You’re carrying my child,” he blurts out, loud enough for a few passersby to hear. “He took you from me when you were already pregnant. I know the truth, Anja. I know what he did.”
The lie hits like a slap. Rage and fear twist together in my chest.
“It’s not yours. It was never yours.”
“Step back, Klem. Now,” my driver Antony growls, his hand is on his sidearm now, voice low and deadly.
“You think he’ll keep you? He’s using you, just like I did. When he’s done with his little revenge game, he’ll toss you aside. You’re nothing but a pawn to men like him,” Fadir’s eyes dart between us, desperation turning to fury.
The words sting because they echo the old fears I’ve carried for so long. The belief that I’m forgettable, disposable, inherently “less than.” But I’m not the same woman he trapped months ago. I lift my chin, voice shaking but clear.
“You don’t know anything about him. Or me. Leave me alone, Fadir. Or the Sokolovs will make sure you never get the chance to speak to me again.”
Antone moves forward, forcing Fadir and his men to back away. I slide into the SUV, hands trembling as I lock the door. The moment we pull away from the curb, I call Alexey.
“Anja? Are you okay?” he answers instantly.
“Fadir was there,” I say, voice cracking. “Outside the clinic. He tried to talk to me. He’s still spreading those lies about the baby being his.”
The silence on the other end is heavy. When Alexey speaks again, his voice is terrifyingly calm. The kind of calm that usually precedes violence.
“Put Antone on.”
I hand the phone over. Antone speaks in low, clipped tones, giving a rapid report. When he hands the phone back, Alexey’s voice is softer but no less intense.
“Stay in the car. Come straight home. I’m waiting for you.”
The drive back to the compound feels endless. When we finally pull through the iron gates, Alexey is already standing on the steps of the main house, Tikhon beside him like a wall of muscle. The moment I step out, Alexey pulls me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. One hand rests protectively over my belly, the other strokes my hair.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs against my temple. “He won’t get near you again.”
I nod, but my body is still shaking. “I thought it was over. I thought he was done.”
Alexey doesn’t answer right away. When I pull back to look at him, I see the anger rising—jaw tight, eyes shaded with barely contained fury. Not at me. Never at me. But at Fadir. At the constant threat that refuses to die.
“He’s getting desperate,” Alexey says quietly, thumb brushing my cheek. “That makes him dangerous. But he just made his last mistake.”
