Page 28 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

Andrei blinks, clearly caught off guard by my reaction.

“Relax,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “Neither of you will be punished. Not this time.”

Andrei’s shoulders ease slightly, but his jaw tightens. “She’s reckless,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Dangerous. If she keeps this up—”

“She won’t,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “She’s learning. Slowly, perhaps, but she’ll get there.”

He looks skeptical but doesn’t argue.

I reach for the glass of whiskey on my desk, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. “Let her have her spirit, Andrei,” I say, my tone almost conversational. “It makes things more interesting.”

Andrei’s lips press into a thin line, but he nods. “As long as it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“It won’t,” I reply, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “I have no intention of letting her get away, Andrei. She’ll learn her place. Eventually.”

He hesitates, then nods again before stepping back toward the door. “Let’s hope you’re right, Boss,” he says quietly.

“Something else?” I ask, my tone sharp enough to cut through his hesitation.

He turns back to face me, pulling a folder from the inside of his jacket. He holds it out without a word.

I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued, and take the folder from him. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, the meaning behind it already clear before I open it.

“These are the results,” Andrei says, his voice steady but lacking its usual edge.

I flip the folder open, scanning the neatly printed words and numbers on the page. It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for—confirmation written in cold, clinical language.

One month pregnant.

I close the folder slowly, the movement deliberate, and set it down on the desk in front of me. The words linger in my mind, louder than any thought, louder even than the distant hum of my office.

It’s mine.

Andrei clears his throat, breaking the silence. “What now?” he asks, his voice hesitant.

What now?The question echoes in my mind, heavy with implications.

I lean back in my chair, my gaze drifting toward the shadows pooling in the corners of the room. A child. My child. The thought feels foreign, like a language I can’t quite grasp.

I’ve built my life around control—every move calculated, every risk mitigated. And now, this. A life I didn’t ask for, one I never planned for, growing because of one reckless night.

Hannah.

Her name surfaces alongside the memory of her face—those defiant eyes, the sharpness in her voice when she called me a monster. She’s young, spirited, and reckless. She doesn’t belong in my world, and yet… she’s here, tied to me in a way that neither of us can escape.

Andrei shifts uncomfortably, clearly waiting for a response.

“Boss,” he presses, his tone cautious. “What do you want to do?”

I exhale slowly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the desk. My fingers tap against the wood as I weigh the options in my mind, each one more unpleasant than the last.

“We’ll marry,” I say finally, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Andrei blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Marry?”

“Yes,” I reply, my tone firm. “I won’t have my child born a bastard.”

The word settles, heavy with finality.

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