Page 44 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

She halted in front of me, her gaze darting across the chart in her hand.

“And…?” I asked, my eyes widening, anxiety and curiosity flickering in their depths.

She raised her head and announced, “It's positive. There's life in your womb. You're pregnant.”

Sharon's words dropped like a bombshell, disorienting me. The confirmation sent my mind reeling, my thoughts crashing against each other like waves in a storm.

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, like my breath had been knocked out of me.

Sharon's previous smile faltered as she sensed my unease. “What're you gonna do now?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I stared at her, my lips quivering with fear, tears as tears brimmed my eyes. My mind spun with confusion, and I struggled to pull myself together. “I don't know. I'll need to think about it.”

My voice trembled under the weight of my predicament.

“Sure. Take your time and return when you're ready to make a decision.” She beamed an encouraging smile at me and then patted my shoulder before leaving.

This was a terrible situation that left me with two difficult decisions: to keep the baby or not to keep the baby. I couldn't bring myself to decide at that moment; my mind was too overwhelmed for that.

Honestly, I'd always wanted children, always wanted to be a mom. But this pact with Erik made the entire situation super complicated.

He wasn't exactly a father figure, and that terrified me. Keeping this baby would mean voluntarily binding myself to Erik forever. Did I want that? Was this even the best time to welcome a child into such a family? Was I ready to be a mother at this time in my life? Was I ready for that responsibility?

When I returned home, the sun had already set, and the mansion was unusually quiet at this time of the evening. It was dark in the living room, and the moment I turned the lights on, my heart skipped a beat, and my breath hitched in my throat.

Erick was seated alone on a sofa, hands resting on the arms, and his legs were crossed, one over the other. His expression was dark, and his piercing green eyes were pinned on me. As he gazed at me with an intimidating glare, his presence filled the room with a heavy tension that made my legs turn to jelly.

“Where were you?” he questioned, his voice low and malicious, dripping with a hint of suspicion.

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening and my heart hammering in my chest as my mind still reeled from the doctor's words. However, I reminded myself to remain calm, knowing this was about to take a dangerous turn.

Chapter 18 – Erik

I sat in the darkness of the living room, my fury simmering beneath the surface as I waited patiently for her return. Like it wasn't enough that she’d met up with that bastard Connor and kept her mouth shut, she had the effrontery to leave the house without my permission.

I was almost certain she'd gone out to meet him again.

How dare she?

My blood boiled at the thought of his hands around her body, and my fingers balled into fists.

My jaw clenched, feeling the jolt of anger coursing through my veins like electricity. I hated the fact she was making all these wrong decisions over stuff that never even happened. If she’d listened to me, she'd have realized that she was wrong and that what she saw wasn't what it seemed like.

Now, she was hanging out with Connor, seeking comfort in his company and, perhaps, his embrace. My fists tightened, accentuating the deep scowl on my face. Next time I met with that son of a bitch, I'd put two fucking bullets in his skull.

The image of Connor's eyes fixed on hers, with his hand under her chin, still lingered in my mind. I hadn't gotten over that yet. However, I was willing to have a decent conversation with her after work. To my surprise, though, she wasn't home when I returned.

Where was she? Nobody had a fucking clue. One of the maids said that she'd spotted my wife dressed in an all-black ensemble while driving out of the compound. Judging by what the maid had described, it seemed like my wife didn't want anyone to recognize her.

Why the disguise? Where the fuck was she going to that she felt the need to mask her identity?

My chest rose and fell with anger as I sat on a sofa, legs crossed, doing my best to exude an air of confidence and composure. However, deep down, it was chaotic within me, and I was on the verge of an outburst. I appeared to be in control of my rage, but I wasn't, and I was afraid that it might get the better of me.

I wasn't sure what I'd do when she returned, and that bothered me. The sun had fallen, giving way to the darkness, yet she still hadn't come home.

Thoughts of her being intimate with Connor occupied my mind, fueling my rage and hatred for the man. The more I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, the more impossible it became.

She'd given me multiple reasons to suspect her, and there was little to nothing I could do about that. She’d met with Connor behind my back and didn't say anything about it, and now she snuck out of the house in a disguise and hadn't returned home yet.

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