Page 38 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
Pregnant? Hell, no!
I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was carrying Yulian’s child in my womb. Yulian—the same man who kidnapped me, locked me up in his basement, and left me dead, that Yulian?
This was messed up on so many levels. The situation was all shades of crazy.
I knew when I slept with him that night in New York that there was something strange about him, that I just might regret falling for his charms later on. Yet, I went ahead and fucked the man.
I didn’t think my regret would carry so much weight—I just thought that I’d hate myself for being so attached to a stranger.
That was my worst-case scenario—getting too much enjoyment out of him, so I’d end up missing him badly. How the hell did this situation shift from that to this?
Fuck!
I was in trouble now—deep trouble.
The plan was to keep my affair with Yulian a secret after finding out who he was—my father’s worst enemy. For some time, that had been the goal, and it seemed to be working, considering that no one else knew about my history with the man.
It was a one-night stand, for fuck’s sake!
Regardless, no one knew about it, and I thought that if I stayed in my zone and avoided ever running into him, I’d be fine. The last thing I needed was my father losing his mind over a mistake I made two months ago. Not that I knew who Yulianwas back then anyway. But it was best to keep that piece of information from him.
I had a lot on my plate already, and the son of a bitch, Yulian, decided now was the best time to show up and ruin my life. He should’ve just stayed away—never should have sent those men after me.
Is Yulian really to be blamed for all of this? Or is it just convenient for me to dump all the blame on him?I asked myself.
Yulian didn’t waltz back into my life by choice. No, our reunion was fate’s plan—one that completely destroyed any chance I had at happiness. Sure, Yulian was guilty of kidnapping me and locking me in his basement like an animal. But not everything was his fault.
Fate played us both.
Of all the men on planet earth, it just so happened that I had a fuckin’ one-night stand with my father’s worst enemy. Like that wasn’t enough, fate had a crazy plan to bring us back together again under even worse circumstances—one where I finally learned who Yulian was and how messed up the situation had become.
And now to top it all off, there was a friggin’ baby involved. Jesus Christ!
Well played, fate. Well played.
Blame fate all you want, it’s not gonna make the problem go away. It’s not gonna change anything,my inner voice said, harsh and unapologetic.You’re blaming everyone but yourself because you’re too scared to face the truth. All of this is your fault. If you had just listened to me that night and not let Yulian, who by the way, was a total stranger, inside your apartment, none of this would have happened.
Those words pierced my heart like a bullet. But that was the truth. I’d been horny that night, and I hadn’t been thinking clearly. That night, I drowned out my voice of reason just so Icould have the time of my life. Now look where that has gotten me months later—nothing but pain and regret.
Clearly, there was more than enough blame to go around. But would I waste my time being angry at everyone involved in this situation, or would I channel that anger into getting the hell out of this place?
Knowing I was carrying his baby somehow made Yulian grow a heart. Or at least something that resembled it. Ever since the revelation at the hospital, my new cell was a well-furnished room with a big comfy bed, a fireplace, and some plush couches.
Yulian had his maids catering to my every need, treating me like a delicate pearl to be handled with care. I was free to explore the mansion, go wherever I wanted as long as I remained within the compound. His men were all over the place like a swarm of bees, watching my every move.
Yulian knew better than to underestimate me, and so he asked his men to double the security and keep an eye on me at all times. Yulian never should have let me roam the compound freely if he intended to keep me here.
One way or another, I’d find my way out of this place, and exploring the mansion—every corner, every room—was the fastest way to do that.
Every day, I’d walk around the house, noting the guards, their movements, and their routines. At first, they watched me closely like a hawk, their gazes stern and suspicious. They might have suspected that I was up to something, but over time, I played the part so well—quiet, compliant, too broken to be a threat—that they let their guard down.
When they looked at me, all they saw was a woman with a defeated mind and a broken spirit. At least that was what I let them see. It was the only way to get their sharp eyes off my back.
I spent hours every day paying attention to even the tiniest of details about everyone and everything in this mansion.During the day, there were six exterior guards, two more stationed inside, and another who roamed.
The more I observed, the more the patterns revealed themselves.
Shift changes happened at precise intervals: midnight, six, noon, and then six again. However, it was the 5:55 window that things usually got sloppy. It was during that period that the day and night guards crossed paths and exchanged notes with each other.
