Page 114 of Porcelain Lies

“The emergency button connects directly to the security team,” he continues, showing me how to activate it. “And the phone has a panic feature if you feel unwell.”

“Holy shit,” I half-whisper.

“I want you to be comfortable,” he adds, mistaking my words for gratitude. “These are top-of-line models.”

I nod mechanically, already feeling the weight of invisible eyes watching through each screen, each sensor. Mymovements, communications, even my body’s responses — all monitored, analyzed, controlled.

My prison feels more claustrophobic with each new gadget, its bars made of circuits and algorithms rather than steel.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to sound casual. “So… after the baby comes, will I be able to return to work?”

Aleksei doesn’t look up from adjusting my biomarker tracker. “Of course. I’ve already interviewed several qualified nannies.”

“Nannies?” The word sticks in my throat. “You expect someone else to raise my child?”

“The staff will handle day-to-day care. You’ll have supervised visitation, of course.” His tone suggests he’s conferring a great privilege. “The nanny will manage feeding schedules, educational development, proper socialization—”

“Feeding schedules?” My voice rises. “You mean breastfeeding? You expect me to just pump milk and hand it over?”

He finally meets my eyes, brow furrowed. “Formula is more efficient. Allows for precise measurement of intake.”

“No.” I yank my wrist away from him. “Absolutely not. I won’t be treated like some kind of… breeding cow.”

“You’re being emotional—”

“Damn right I’m emotional!” I stand up, anger burning through my fear. “This ismybaby. Mine! I’ll be the one carrying her, birthing her, loving her. Not some hired help.”

“Him,” Aleksei corrects automatically. “And this isn’t up for discussion.”

“The hell it isn’t.” I rip off the tracker, tossing it onto the bed. “I won’t let you reduce motherhood to a clinical transaction. I won’t let you take my child away the moment she’s born.”

“He,” he says again, more firmly. “And you’re not thinking clearly. The best care—”

“The best care comes from a mother’s love.” My hands shake, but my voice stays strong. “If you think I’ll just hand over my baby and step aside, you don’t understand the first thing about being a parent.”

A muscle flickers in his jaw as he observes me for a moment. I can’t read his expression, but I’m not going to let that intimidate me.

“I know what is good for a child.” His tone is icy. “And I can afford to provide it.”

“Actually…” I twist my hands together, trying to find solid ground in this confrontation. “I have my own ideas about prenatal care. I’ve been practicing yoga for years — it’s excellent for maintaining flexibility and reducing stress during pregnancy.”

His expression shifts slightly, interest flickering across his features. “You know about prenatal yoga?”

“All aspects of yoga, actually. And I’ve studied the neurological benefits extensively. The mindfulness aspects create positive changes in brain chemistry, which directly affects fetal development.”

“Neurological benefits?” He steps closer, his intimidating presence softening with curiosity.

“Yes. I’m fascinated by neuroscience — how the brain develops, especially in utero. Did you know that maternal stress levels can actually alter fetal brain structure? That’s why practices like yoga and meditation are so crucial during pregnancy.”

His eyes narrow thoughtfully. “You understand the science behind this?”

“Did you think all I could do was plan parties?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Interesting.” He pulls out his phone, fingers moving rapidly across the screen. “I’ll have your internet access modified to include scientific journals.”

The concession, small as it is, gives me hope. “Thank you.”

He nods curtly and strides toward the door. “The doctor will be here soon. We’ll discuss the rest later. Until then, stay in your suite. If you need to go anywhere, I’ll send someone down for you.”

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