Page 95 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
He just nodded, then held out his hand to me. I didn’t take it, just started walking toward the exit. I heard him sigh behind me, then follow.
***
The ride back to the house was silent. Federico kept his eyes on the road, but I could feel how tense he was. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, trying to make sense of the chaos in my head.
I was pregnant.
With Federico Lebedev’s baby. The man who had manipulated me into marriage. The man I had started to fall for despite everything. The man who, if I were being honest with myself, I still couldn’t get out of my system no matter how hard I tried.
As we pulled up to the mansion, I felt a knot form in my throat. It had only been a few weeks since I’d left, but it felt like years. The place I once called home now looked like a house again.
Federico helped me out of the car, as always. Even when angry, he took care of me first. Quietly, we walked inside, side by side.
“I’ll send one of my men to go get your things from Bea’s tomorrow,” he said as he closed the door behind us.
I just nodded.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “You should eat something.”
That broke me.
I don’t know why that simple question was the one that did it—not the pregnancy test, not the doctor’s confirmation, not even seeing Federico at the hospital.
But standing in the entryway of this mansion that represented everything about my strange, twisted life, being asked if I was hungry by the man who had turned my world upside down twice now... it was too much.
“No,” I choked out, and then the tears came. These ugly, gasping sobs that bent me over. I wrapped my arms around myself like I was trying to hold all my broken pieces together.
“I’m pregnant,” I sobbed. “I’m actually pregnant. With your baby. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be someone’s mother. I don’t know how to be a mob wife. I don’t know how to forgive you, or trust you, or stop missing you. And I’m so tired of feeling lost.”
I was talking to myself. I was a mess. And in an instant, he was by my side, his arms wrapped around me.
God. He was solid and warm and real.
He was kinder than he should have been, considering the secret I kept.
“Breathe,” he murmured against my hair. “Just breathe, Autumn. I’ve got you.”
I leaned into him, breathed in the smell of his skin, and felt the comforting steadiness of his chest. His hands moved in soft circles on my back. I should have pushed him away because I was still angry. But he was angry too, and I was so damn tired of fighting, of pretending I didn’t need him that I collapsed against him.
He didn’t move. Didn’t rush.
Just held me while I cried like the world had spun off its axis.
“I miss you,” I finally whispered. “I hate what you did, but I miss you. Imissyou.”
His chest rose and fell under my cheek. Then slowly, he kissed the crown of my head.
“I missed you, too,” he murmured.
“I’m scared,” I whispered into his shirt.
“I know. So am I.”
That admission, small as it was, made me pull back to look at his face. Federico Lebedev, admitting fear? “You are?”
He nodded, his beautiful green eyes reminding me of a forest on a dark, sunless day. “Terrified. But not of the baby.” He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Of losing you for good.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I’m still angry with you.”
