Page 92 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"When are you coming back?"

I stared at those words, finger hovering over the screen. I couldn't tell Rory what I'd just been through. He'd be scared, worried.

"Last-minute work trip, might be a few days. Take care of yourself, listen to Winnie."

"You didn't tell me again."

I closed my eyes.

"Work came up suddenly. Sorry. I'll bring you a present."

He sent an angry emoji, then added:

"Remember to eat."

Tears nearly fell again. I took a deep breath and messaged Winnie.

"Can you look after Rory for a couple days? Something came up, I can't get back."

Winnie replied in half a minute.

"Of course. I'll go over tonight. Are you safe?"

I bit my lip.

"Safe. Just need to handle some things."

She didn't pry.

"Got it. Rory's covered. Tell me if you need anything."

Those few short sentences made my shoulders gradually relax.

I wasn't completely alone. I still had Rory. I had Winnie. I had this tiny life I'd just learned about.

As for Varlam—I turned toward that closed door across the hall. He didn't belong to me. Never had.

And I didn't need him anymore.

When I got out, I'd submit my resignation. That absurdly high salary, that workstation right next to his office, those late-night moments of eye contact—all of it would fade completely from my life.

Life would get harder, but I could find another job. I could move. I could care for two children at once. The old me might have been scared. The current me just wanted to get as far from here as possible.

Away from Varlam. Even farther from Brinny. This time, I'd protect everything that was mine.

Two days later, I signed the discharge papers and left the hospital.

The doctor had wanted me to stay one more day for observation, but I refused. The bill would keep growing. Rory hadn't seen me in two days. More importantly, nurses kept emerging from the room across the hall wearing expressions like they'd just watched a romance movie.

They said Varlam hadn't slept at all. Said Brinny had no appetite, so he had three different soups delivered. Said she felt chest tightness in the middle of the night and he hit the call button faster than the monitors. Each comment felt like a stone pressing on my chest. One more day and those stories might suffocate me before the baby was born.

I changed into the loose clothes the hospital provided, folded the test results, and tucked them in the bottom of my bag. Before leaving, I took one last look at the room across the hall. The door remained closed. I didn't say goodbye. Varlam didn't even know I'd been here.

Good. Cleanest that way.

A nurse walked me to the hospital entrance. Afternoon sunlight fell. I squinted. Two days without really walking—my legs felt weak. I pulled my jacket tight and was about to call a car when my eyes caught on a familiar black sports car at the curb.

Sleek body, obnoxiously flashy rims. And that license plate I'd seen countless times.