"She's pregnant."
The words come out flat, emotionless. There’s no surprise in his eyes. Nope. But there is something that looks almost like guilt.
"You knew." The accusation is out before I can stop it. "You fucking knew and didn't tell me."
"She made me promise?—"
"She made you—" I laugh, but there's no humor in it, just the brittle edge of hysteria. "She made you promise to keep this from me? And you agreed?"
"She needed time?—"
"Time for what? To hide the fact that she's carrying my child? To decide whether or not to tell me?" I grab his shirt and stare directly into his eyes. "What else are you keeping from me?"
"Nothing. I swear, Dante, nothing." His hands come up, not to fight back but to steady me. "I only found out when we got here. I was going to make her tell you, but then you showed up?—"
I release him abruptly, stumbling back until I hit the wall. My hands are shaking. When did my hands start shaking?
"I need—" I can't finish the thought. Don't know what I need beyond the impossible desire to rewind time and make different choices.
"Go home," Alexei says quietly. "See Mila. Clear your head. I'll stay with Hannah, make sure she's safe."
"Don't let her leave." The order comes out harsh, desperate. "She said she wants to go home, back to her apartment. Don't let her."
"Dante—"
"Promise me." I grab his arm, my grip probably too tight but I can't seem to modulate my strength right now. "She's pregnant with my child, Alexei. If she leaves, if she goes home, my enemies will find her. They'll use her, use the baby?—"
I can't finish. Can't voice the terrible scenarios playing out in my mind, each one worse than the last.
"I'll keep her safe," Alexei promises. "I won't let anything happen to her or the baby."
The drive home is a blur. I don't remember getting in the car, don't remember telling the driver where to go. I just find myself at the estate gates, the familiar walls that have always meant safety and control now feeling like a cage I've built around everyone I love.
The house is quiet when I enter. Most of the staff have gone to bed, just the night security making their rounds. I should check in with them, should verify that all protocols are in place and be the leader they need.
Instead, I go straight to Mila's room.
She's asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow. In sleep, she looks even younger than seven. She’s so innocent and pure in a way that breaks my heart.
I sit on the edge of her bed, careful not to wake her. I just watch her breathe. This is what matters. This small person who trusts me absolutely, who has no idea that her father's world could swallow her whole without a second thought.
Soon there will be another child. Another small person who will depend on me for everything.
How am I supposed to do this again? How am I supposed to love another child when loving the first one already feels like keeping my heart outside my body?
"Papa?"
Mila's voice is sleepy, confused. I force a smile, smoothing her hair back from her face.
"Go back to sleep,milaya."
"Is Hannah okay? Maria said she hurt her head."
"She's fine. She'll be home tomorrow."
Mila's eyes are already closing again, reassured by my presence and my words. "Good. I made her a card. With flowers."
"I know she'll love it."
