Page 93 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

Makar's car.

The driver's door opened. He stepped out, removed his sunglasses, and raised a hand.

"Briony."

I stayed put. Makar looked thinner than at the reception. His black hair still perfectly styled, shirt and pants like they'd just come off the hanger. He had similar eyes to Varlam, but lacked that oppressive weight forged through blood and power.

He was younger, wore his emotions more openly. Right now, that face that used to be full of arrogance held something like nervousness.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Picking up your brother?"

Makar tucked his sunglasses away.

"I came to see you."

"Then you should've made an appointment. I don't take drop-ins from ex-boyfriends."

He flinched at the jab but didn't snap back like before.

"I know you're pregnant."

The air ripped from my lungs. My hand instinctively covered my abdomen.

"Who told you?"

Makar stepped forward.

"Don't come closer." I immediately backed up.

"Okay." He stopped.

He actually didn't move. That compliance made me more wary.

"Are you monitoring me?"

"No."

"Then how do you know my test results?"

"I've been keeping tabs on you."

I laughed coldly. That sounded no different from monitoring.

He rubbed the back of his neck. The gesture looked awkward, finally making him resemble the Makar I knew rather than some stranger performing sincerity at the hospital entrance.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing. After you fell from the yacht, I heard you were hospitalized. I had someone look into it."

Fell. No one except me would believe Brinny pushed me.

"Had someone look into it," I repeated. "Do all you Petrov men think other people's privacy is fair game?"

"I didn't come to fight."

"Then what?"

Makar was silent for several seconds.

"Chloe and I are divorced."