I watched the clock, counting every tick of the second hand.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three minutes.
My heart pounded harder with each passing second.
Four minutes.
Please, I begged silently. Please let it be just one line.
Five minutes.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then looked down.
Two bright red lines.
Clear as day. Unmistakable.
My hands began to shake violently.
The test slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
I stared at it lying there, my mind completely blank.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
The father was Alexander Volkov—a mafia boss I'd met twice, a dangerous man I'd been too terrified to contact again.
And I'd just lost my job, had exactly one hundred and eighty-two dollars to my name, and owed six weeks of back rent.
What was I supposed to do?
I curled up on the cold bathroom floor, hugging my knees to my chest.
The tears finally came—silent and devastating, like a dam bursting.
My phone rang.
Yekaterina.
I stared at her name on the screen, hesitating before finally answering.
"Hello?"
My voice came out as a croak.
"Anna? What's wrong? You sound terrible."
Yekaterina's concern was immediate. She'd been my closestfriend since high school—despite coming from wealth while I had nothing, she'd never treated me as anything less than an equal.
"Katya..."
Her nickname came out as barely a whisper.
