Page 26 of The Bratva Stalker and His Pregnant Bride

“This situation is not negotiable, Charlie,” I say, my voice dropping to a flat, dangerous register that cuts through the hum of the office’s ventilation. “He’s my son. I have spent four years completely blind to his existence, and I won’t remain a ghost for even a second longer. I don’t care about legal technicalities or the walls she builds. Whether through persuasion or force, I intend to establish my place in his life.”

Charlie doesn’t attempt to argue, nor does he offer another lecture on the legal ramifications or the delicate nature of our public standing. Instead, he just observes, understanding with absolute clarity that I have reached a threshold where clinical logic alone will no longer dictate my actions. The beast has been awakened, and it is entirely single-minded.

I step out of the office and back into the hallway, fully committed to reclaiming my role as a father, completely indifferent to the methods required to make it happen.

Chapter 13 – Ashley

The glass-walled boardroom of Kang Logistics is bathed in the sharp, clinical glow of overhead LED panels, the hum of the air conditioning a steady backdrop to the sharp click of my laser pointer. On the massive wall-mounted screen, a highly complex, multi-layered digital flow chart details our newly optimized shipping routes through the Mediterranean.

“If we reroute the primary cargo carriers from Athens through the Italian transit hub by Wednesday morning, we bypass the customs bottleneck entirely,” I explain, my voice smooth, steady, and commanding. I look across the long mahogany table, holding the attention of six of our senior regional directors. “The delay is eliminated, the client is satisfied, and our margin increases by four percent.”

Beside me, Maya nods approvingly, quickly typing notes into her tablet.

Outwardly, I’m the epitome of executive grace and absolute control. No one in this room would ever guess that my skin has felt too tight for the past twelve hours, or that my mind has been locked in a vicious loop, replaying the terrifying look of realization on Samuel’s face in my hallway last night.

I’m functioning on pure adrenaline and coffee, but I refuse to let my personal life bleed into my empire. Here, within these glass walls, I’m in complete command.

Until my personal phone on the table begins to vibrate.

I ignore it at first, continuing my slide transition. “Furthermore, the port authority in Trieste has agreed to—”

The phone vibrates again. Then again. A persistent, aggressive buzz that makes Maya look up from her screen, her brow furrowing.

I glance down. It isn’t an unknown number. It’s the direct line to the administrative office of Ethan’s private daycare.

A cold spike of adrenaline shoots straight through my chest, instantly shattering my clinical composure. My breath hitches.

“Excuse me for just a moment,” I say, my voice slightly tighter than before. I capture Maya’s eye, giving her a look that tells her to take over, and slide the phone off the table as I quickly step out of the boardroom into the quiet, carpeted hallway.

I press the phone to my ear, my heart hammering against my ribs. “This is Ashley Kang.”

“Ms. Kang, I am so sorry to disturb you during your workday,” the receptionist’s voice speaks quickly, sounding highly flustered and incredibly tense. “But we have a highly unusual situation in the front lobby. A gentleman just arrived. He doesn’t have authorization on your pick-up list, but…well, he insists on seeing Ethan.”

My blood runs entirely to ice. The hallway seems to tilt beneath my heels. “Who is he?”

“His name is Samuel Rusnak,” she whispers, as if afraid of being overheard. “He is extremely insistent, Ms. Kang. He claims he’s Ethan’s father and that there has been a massive communication error. The security guard tried to ask him to wait outside, but…he’s very imposing, and he’s refusing to leave without seeing the boy. We were about to call the authorities, but we wanted to check with you first to avoid making a scene in front of the other children.”

The sheer, arrogant audacity of it blinds me with a wave of white-hot fury.

He wouldn’t.

But as the initial shock fades, a cold, calculating reality sets in. Of course he would. He’s a Rusnak. He doesn’t care about legal lists, boundaries, or the rules of a suburban daycare. He wants his son, and he’s going to take him.

My mind races, evaluating the chessboard. If I tell them to call the police, it will escalate. A fleet of squad cars at a high-end preschool, a physical confrontation with a powerful Bratva figure—it would traumatize Ethan, ruin my public standing, and push Samuel into an even more dangerous corner. He won’t back down easily.

I have to defuse this on my terms.

“Do not call the police yet,” I say, my voice incredibly tight but forced into a level, authoritative calm. “Please. I’m on my way right now. But until I get there, I want you to bring Ethan to the office. Do not let Mr. Rusnak take him out of the building, but let them speak in the lobby. Actually…put Ethan on the phone with me right now.”

“Of course, Ms. Kang. Just one moment.”

A few agonizing seconds of static pass before the sweet, innocent voice of my son fills the receiver. “Mommy?”

I close my eyes, swallowing down the thick, suffocating knot of anger in my throat. When I speak, my tone is a masterclass in maternal warmth, completely hiding the terror clawing at my chest.

“Hi, my sweet boy,” I say softly. “Listen to me, Ethan. A friend of mine is visiting you at school right now. His name is Samuel—the tall man from our house last night. Do you remember him?”

“The man with the blue eyes?” Ethan asks, his voice bright with recognition.