Page 25 of Pregnant By the Bratva

“I agree,” I respond, my mind already running through the necessary precautions. “Make the arrangements immediately. I want a full background check on all staff. If the maid knew about the test, others might know as well. We can’t afford any leaks.”

“I’ll see to it,” Maxim replies, his professionalism returning in full force. He hesitates for a second before adding, “Ivan… perhaps it’s best if you speak to Sarah about this directly. Confirm things between the two of you.”

I feel a muscle twitch in my jaw at the suggestion. The thought of confronting Sarah about this is… complicated. Part of me wants to demand answers, to assert control over the situation. Another part, one I don’t often acknowledge, feels a pang of uncertainty, even vulnerability.

“I will,” I say curtly, dismissing any further discussion on the matter.

Maxim takes the hint and straightens up, preparing to leave. As he reaches the door, he pauses and glances back at me, a rare softness in his usually stoic gaze.

“You’ll make the right decision,” he says quietly. “You always do.”

I offer him a brief nod, and with that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the silence of my office. The weight of the conversation settles heavily around me, the reality of the situation pressing in from all sides.

I stand up from my chair and walk over to the large windows overlooking the estate. The sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns and imposing gates. The view is one of order and control, a contrast to the chaos swirling inside me.

Fatherhood. It’s a concept I’ve never seriously entertained. Growing up, my own relationship with my father was… complicated, to say the least. He was a hard man, stern and unyielding, his expectations heavy and often suffocating. We clashed more often than not, our disagreements escalating until his passing left so many things unsaid, unresolved.

I remember the nights spent in this very office, listening to his lectures about duty and legacy, about the weight of the Sharov name and what it meant to uphold it. For him, everything was about power and reputation, about maintaining our place in a world where weakness was not an option. Affection was a luxury he rarely afforded, and praise was even scarcer.

I know I’ve turned out just the same as he has.

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah

I stare at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands, the two pink lines staring back at me like a cruel joke. A million thoughts race through my mind, but one keeps resurfacing: I did not need another problem in my life. Not now. Not with everything else that’s been happening. Certainly not with Ivan’s child.

My breath catches in my throat as I realize the full weight of the situation. Ivan Sharov, the Russian Mafia boss. The man who has consumed my thoughts, my body, my very existence for the past few weeks. The man who, despite everything, I can’t seem to pull myself away from. Now, I’m pregnant with his child. It’s like a noose tightening around my neck, a bond that will tie me to him forever if this child is born.

A sudden knock on the door jolts me out of my spiraling thoughts. Before I can even respond, the door swings open, and Ivan steps inside. He doesn’t wait for an invitation—he never does. His presence fills the room, commanding and powerful, as he approaches me.

“Sarah,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my pale face, the shock I’m sure is written all over it. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I quickly shove the pregnancy test into the drawer beside me, trying to mask the panic that’s threatening to break through. “It’s nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Just… not feeling well.”

He doesn’t buy it. His gaze sharpens, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. Ivan isn’t a man easily fooled, and I know he can sense that something is off. Before he can press further, he changes tactics.

“It’s time we decide things,” he says, his voice calm but firm. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he looms over me. “What do you want, Sarah? Do you want to stay, or do you want to leave?”

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I’ve been avoiding this conversation, avoiding making a decision, but now there’s no more running. Ivan has put it all on the table, and I have to face it.

My heart races as I try to sort through the chaos in my mind. Over the past few weeks, I’ve grown closer to Ivan than I ever expected. He’s become an addiction, a craving I can’t seem to satisfy no matter how many times we’re together. Now, I’m carrying his child. The thought of leaving him, of walking away from this twisted bond we’ve formed, feels like tearing myself in two.

Then reality crashes in, the reality of the life he leads, the life I’ve been dragged into. The dark world of the Mafia, a world filled with violence, danger, and betrayal. A world I never wanted to be a part of. How could I raise a child in this? How could I bring an innocent life into a world so full of darkness?

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I have to say. “Ivan,” I begin, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “I want to leave this life. I want to leave this city. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Ivan’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he stares down at me. I can see the flicker of anger, of disbelief, but there’s something else there too—something I can’t quite place.

“You want to leave me?” he finally says, his voice low and dangerous, the calm before the storm. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Leave me and find someone else? You think you can just walk away, Sarah?”

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make me feel the weight of his words. “I’ve ruined you for anyone else,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a darker, possessive edge. “You belong to me now. There’s no leaving this, no walking away.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, the weight of his words crushing me. I know what he’s saying is true, that leaving him, leaving this life, isn’t as simple as just walking away. I have to try. I have to find a way out, for myself and for the child I’m carrying.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I whisper, though the words sound weak even to my own ears. “I just want to be free, Ivan.”

His eyes narrow as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. My pulse quickens, a mixture of fear and something darker swirling in my chest. Ivan reaches out, his hand sliding down to my stomach, and I flinch at the contact. His touch is warm, but the cold steel in his gaze makes me shiver.

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