Was it some kind of warning?
Was the universe trying to tell me that being here was a bad idea?
Would something bad happen to my child as long as I was still attached to Nial and the dangers of his world?
Confused, I dropped onto the mattress, wondering what the future had in store for me.
What are the chances of escaping this unscathed?
Chapter 18 — Nial
I couldn’t bring myself to punish her for not telling me about my unborn child. The only thing on my mind ever since I’d found out about her pregnancy had been to keep her safe.
The fact that she was carrying an extension of me in her womb meant that to the wrong people, her value just went up a thousandfold. My enemies would see this as an opportunity to hurt me because this baby had put a bullseye on her back.
Her life and the unborn child’s were in danger. That meant there wasn’t enough time to be angry at what she didn’t tell me. The most important thing to me at the moment was doing everything in my power to keep them both safe.
For now, word hadn’t gone out about her pregnancy. The fewer people who knew, the better. No one at the mansion except Boris was aware of this. Over time, people would find out when her belly began to protrude.
Until then, the plan was to keep it quiet.
It had been three days since her return, and so far, she had spent most of her time in her room. However, in the cool evenings, she would always sit in the garden under the watchful eyes of my trained guards.
She seemed distant—withdrawn—like she hated it here. Every time I saw her through the security footage, she was lost in her own thoughts. Her hand often lingered on her belly as if confirming that the baby was still in there.
Her face looked paler by the day with the kind of hollowness in her eyes that unsettled me. Personally, I preferred it when she was feisty—always fighting everyone. I knew her spirit wasn’t crushed. I just didn’t understand the sudden silence.
My car rolled up the long driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I pulled over by the fountain in the courtyardand killed the engine. The door shut behind me as I headed into the building.
Once inside the living room, I slowed down with knitted brows, staring at the back view of a familiar figure. The man stood at the center of the space with a glass of bourbon in his hand.
His eyes were fixed on the flames crackling in the fireplace. Those shoulders seemed broader despite his age, his immaculate black suit catching the soft light. Silver threaded through that black hair, once identical to mine.
He stood there in silence, his presence carrying the weight of a man accustomed to command. With one hand in his pocket, he swirled the wine in his glass before taking a sip.
“Fire is an interesting element,” he said without turning to look at me. “The same flame that warms a home can burn a city to the ground.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “The difference is the man holding the match.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you…” I said, taking a step forward, “…Father.”
He finally turned around, those cold, hollow eyes boring into mine. His expression was blank as always, his face wrinkled from old age. “You look tired,” he said.
That wasn’t a statement of concern. It was an observation.
I hadn’t seen my old man in years because we barely got along. He was the reason I was the monster I was today, and deep down, I despised him for that. He was the meanest person I’d ever met in my whole life.
He’d once pierced my shoulder with a burning spike because I hesitated to pull the trigger on a traitor.
“Your emotions make you weak!”his voice echoed in my head, a trigger that brought back memories I’d long buried.“You bastard! You better not bring shame to my name!”
My father, Mikhail Tarasov, would never show up at my place without a cause. And whatever it was, I was almost certain it would piss me off. That was all he’d ever done my whole life: piss me off.
He took another sip, his eyes scanning the portraits on my walls. “Your taste in art isn’t all that awful.” He met my gaze. “Not the worst collection I’ve seen.”
“Cut to the chase.” I removed my coat with measured calm. “We both know you didn’t come all the way down here just to assess my art collection.” I sank into the nearest sofa. “What do you want?”
He let out a quiet scoff, taking a seat across from me. “Everything is always straight to the point with you, isn’t it?”
I looked him dead in the eyes and told him what he used to tell us growing up. “Time is the most valuable thing a man owns. I’d rather not waste it on trivialities.”
