Not much, just enough to terrify me.
On the third day, I wake to find Mikhail already gone.
A note on his pillow says he had an early meeting and will be back by dinner.
Relief and disappointment war in my chest.
I need space to deal with this, but I also desperately want him here.
I force myself out of bed and dress in loose, comfortable clothes.
The compound feels suffocating today, the walls pressing in on me.
I need air.
I need to think.
The garden behind the mansion is my favorite place on the property.
Mikhail had it designed with high walls and security cameras, but it still feels like a small piece of freedom.
I make my way there slowly, one hand pressed against my lower back where a dull ache has settled.
The morning sun is warm on my face as I walk among the roses and lavender.
For a moment, I can almost pretend this is a normal life.
That I’m just a pregnant woman enjoying her garden, not the wife of a mafia boss living in constant fear.
The cramp hits without warning, so intense it drives me to my knees. I gasp, my hands clutching my stomach as pain radiates through my entire body.
This is different from before.
Sharper.
More urgent.
I try to stand, to call for help, but my legs won’t support me.
The world tilts sickeningly, and I feel something warm and wet between my thighs.
When I look down, I see blood seeping through my pants.
No. No, no, no.
“Help,” I try to shout, but it comes out as a whisper. “Someone help me.”
The pain intensifies, and I curl into myself on the garden path. Tears stream down my face as I press my hands against my stomach, as if I can somehow hold our baby inside through sheer desperation.
“Please,” I sob to no one and everyone. “Please don’t take my baby. Please.”
The last thing I see before darkness claims me is the blue sky above, cloudless and indifferent to my terror.
And the last thought that crosses my mind is a prayer that Mikhail will forgive me for not telling him sooner.
44
MIKHAIL
