Page 52 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

I don't understand children.

I've never had to and I've never wanted to.

This is not something I would've chosen for myself.

She chose it for me when she decided to keep my son a secret, and now we're both dealing with the consequences of her decision.

"Sit down and feed him," I tell her. "Marta can warm some milk."

She sits, finally, and settles Lex on her lap.

Marta brings a small cup of warm milk and Emory holds it for him while he drinks.

It occurs to me that the boy probably needs a bottle or one of those sipper cups, but the crying stops almost immediately.

My head is spinning, anger swarming in my chest as I stew. I absolutely detest how I feel, but there's nothing to be done.

I just need time to wrap my head around this, and when this kid gets a little older it'll be easier.

"The DNA results came back this morning," I tell her curtly.

She doesn't look up from Lex. She just keeps holding the cup steady and watching him drink. It's like she is trying to block me out.

"There's a ninety-six percent probability he's mine."

"I know he's yours," she says quietly. "I've always known. I didn't need a test to tell me that." Emory sounds sad as she says it, which only twists the knife more.

"But you let me live without knowing all this time?"

"I did what I thought was right for my son."

"And now I'm going to do what I think is right for mine." I wait until she looks at me with fear in her eyes. "The arrangement I told you about last night is permanent. The boy stays in this house where he belongs. He lives here, he grows up here, and he's raised as my heir. You can stay with him or you can leave, but he doesn't go with you."

She glares at me but I’m not finished. "Besides, your father will be here soon. Then won't we be just one big happy family?"

The color drains from her face and she holds Lex closer. "What did you do?"

"I'm trying to keep your family alive. You should thank me."

Before Emory can respond, my mother walks in.

I see hatred flash in Emory's eyes before she calms and stands up with the boy, turning to my mother.

"Anna," she says, revealing that she's gotten to know the old bat a little better. "Would you mind watching Aleksandr for a few minutes? I need to speak with Rashid alone."

My mother sets her tea down and crosses the kitchen holding out her arms. Emory stands and transfers the boy to her gently. I expect more wailing, but Lex goes to my mother without complaint and settles easily. The milk is magic apparently.

Then Emory turns to me and grabs my hand.

Her fingers dig into my wrist and she doesn't ask permission.

She just pulls me to my feet and out of the kitchen into the hallway.

This ought to be good.

17

EMORY