Petros didn’t react dramatically.
No shock. No widened eyes.
No visible surprise.
He simply absorbed it.
Processed it.
Then waited.
“Is it another man’s child?” he asked calmly.
His tone wasn’t accusatory.
It was strategic.
“It’s Ruslan’s,” I replied without hesitation.
Then I added quietly:
“I don’t know whether to tell him this time.”
Petros exhaled slowly through his nose — thoughtful.
He leaned back slightly in the chair.
“I want you to understand something first.”
His voice softened but remained firm.
“My loyalty lies with Ruslan.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“But,” he continued carefully, “I am very good at keeping secrets.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“If you decide you do not want him to know about this child, I will not tell him.”
His tone deepened.
“Ever.”
The weight of that promise was enormous.
It meant protection.
It meant silence.
It meant control over information.
I swallowed. “I do want him to know.”
Petros’s brow lifted slightly — curious.
