So now, I had to confirm one thing.
At least before I couldn't hide it anymore.
I sat up and grabbed that damned phone with its maximum-authority spyware. My finger hovered over the screen for a long time before I finally opened the browser and typed those words that made my palms sweat: nausea, vomiting, fatigue, missed period.
The search engine instantly spat out thousands of results. Every bolded headline screamed at my denial.
"Typical Early Pregnancy Symptoms"
"Ten Signs You Might Be Pregnant"
I slammed the phone face-down on the mattress, cutting off the light. I lay flat like a corpse, staring at the vintage patterns on the ceiling.
My mind was chaos. Now? At this exact moment? Right after discovering I'm just a pet under surveillance, right when we're at ourcoldest, right when assassins could turn us into street meat any second?
A child carrying the Bratva Pakhan's genes?
The answer was already there, screaming at me, but I didn't dare confirm it. Because that would mean being locked forever in this blood-soaked world with zero chance of escape.
But this suspended terror was worse than facing the truth.
I bolted upright.
I couldn't just sit here like an idiot waiting to die. I had to know.
I walked straight to the door and yanked it open, addressing the guards in the hallway coldly. "I'm going out. Shopping."
The two mountain-sized Bratva members exchanged glances. One spoke reluctantly. "Ms. Cole, it's very dangerous out there right now. Pakhan issued the highest level protection order. For your safety—"
"Am I your prisoner here?" I cut him off, chin up. "I need to buy personal items. If you think it's unsafe, bring more people. Or call Nikolai right now and ask if he plans to lock me in this room for the rest of my life!"
The guard was taken aback by my tone. He hesitated, then stepped aside and pressed his earpiece.
Two minutes later, he turned back and bowed respectfully. "Ms. Cole, the car is ready. We'll escort you the entire way."
Nikolai had agreed.
I felt no victory. Just grabbed my bag and followed them out, expressionless.
Four armored SUVs formed an absurdly dramatic convoy to escort me to the city's most upscale shopping center. The guards surrounded me in a tight formation, watching everyone around us.
I swept through several luxury boutiques with a blank face, irritably picking through the season's new arrivals. When I passed a major drugstore chain, I walked in casually and grabbed a shopping basket.
The guards maintained their two-meter distance behind me.
I walked to the feminine products aisle and tossed several packs of pads into the basket. Then, at the corner where the shelfcreated a brief surveillance blind spot, I moved with speed that surprised even me—snatched two different brands of pregnancy tests off the rack and shoved them under the pads at the bottom of the basket.
At checkout, I coldly swiped Nikolai's black card. Aside from the cashier who looked like she wanted to say something, no one saw what I'd bought.
Thank God.
Back at the estate, I immediately locked my bedroom door, grabbed that shopping bag, and rushed to the bathroom.
My hands shook as I tore open the packaging, followed all the instructions, and laid both plastic sticks flat on the counter.
The directions said to wait three minutes.
Those were absolutely the longest, most suffocating three minutes of my twenty-four years. I didn't dare look at the counter. Just pressed my back against the cold door, staring at the second hand on the wall clock, listening to my deafening heartbeat.
