Page 59 of Sold to the Russian

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Later that night, while Fedya was deep in sleep, she gently slipped out and made her way to the hospital pharmacy before he could wake up.

She forced her brain to remain numb as she slipped into the bathroom with a small paper bag. Inside were two pregnancy test sticks that had a good chance of changing her entire life.

Her hands trembled as she unwrapped them, barely looking at her reflection as she took the test. She placed thesticks on the sink before sitting on the toilet seat, counting down seconds in her head.

She was eight minutes in when she felt a buzz in her chest. She took out her phone with numb fingers, her mind spiraling as she stared at the messages that were clearly from her father.

You will be moved to the estate now that they are aware of who you are. There’s a black flash drive in Mikhail’s study. Behind the third drawer, under the false bottom. Get the drive. You’ll know it when you see it. It has the symbol of an eagle etched on the side.

Don’t be stupid, A stor. This is the whole game.

She wasn’t sure how many times she had read the messages until she remembered why she had come to the bathroom in the first place. She stood up and stared at the obvious pink lines, indicating that the test was positive.

Margot’s suspicions had been right after all. She really was carrying Fedya’s child.

She clutched the sink for balance when she felt her knees threatening to give out. Her eyes returned to the small phone clutched in the center of her palm, her eyes glazing over her father’s instructions. And then, she grabbed one of the sticks from the sink, stared at the evidence of her pregnancy before finally meeting her reflection in the mirror.

She was certain of what she had to do.

Her decision was made.

Chapter 23 - Fedya

Besides the Pakhan’s birthday, which hehadto attend, he hadn’t stepped foot in the estate for over a month. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed the warmth and familiarity of it until he drove himself and Maeve there at Mikhail’s request.

The cat was already out of the bag. By morning, he’d woken up to his brothers in the room, scolding him for going on a mob hunt without asking for any kind of help. Fedya knew from the moment Maeve called Viktor last night that his plan had been compromised, but he hated that he hadn’t been there when Maeve told them the truth.

He hated that he wasn’t there to defend her, to let them know she was not at fault for everything that had happened so far. He hated that he wasn’t there to let them know that he didn’t deserve her, that he hadn’t been afraid to die—he never was—but that he had been afraid that he might’ve failed to protect the one person he could no longer bear to lose.

Though he had a feeling they knew that already.

As much as Fedya missed the estate, he didn’t particularly like being reprimanded like a kid in Mikhail’s office. Her brothers had made sure their stuff had been moved from the safe house to the estate even before Fedya was discharged from the hospital. A wing had been provided for them already, but Mikhail needed their attention first. It was a long-coming conversation anyway. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but he wasn’t pleased with the hard look he was giving Maeve, who was standing right next to him.

“I know everything,” Mikhail started, shifting his gaze to his cousin. “I know the marriage was a complication.”

“I don’t have any intentions of letting her go,” Fedya said truthfully. “I’d rather you kill me than ask me to divorce her simply because you’re not in support.”

“I never said I’m not in support.”

Maeve took a shaky breath next to Fedya, shifting a little on her heels.

Mikhail sighed, glancing back at the towers of folders on his desk. “I’ve moved both of you to the estate because it’s safer here. Cormac might’ve known your identity this whole time. I don’t think handing over his daughter to you was simply because of bad parenting. He planted her there, and that ambush last night was clearly a part of his mind games.”

Maeve stiffened beside him.

Fedya frowned. “She doesn’t know anything about it.”

Mikhail ignored his cousin, turning to his wife instead. It was intimidating to look at him, but Maeve did so anyway, just like she had that night at his party. “And you. Do you know what your father’s up to?”

“He hates you.”

Mikhail cracked a rare smile. “Yes, he does.”

“But I don’t know what he’s up to,” she added quietly. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”

“But he’s using you,” Mikhail said, pointing his pen at her. Fedya noticed Maeve’s eyes flick from the Pakhan to the pistol on his table. “Maybe without your knowledge. Maybe not.”

A muscle in Fedya’s jaw twitched. “Stop.”