Page 158 of Sweet Deception
He hesitated. “Let me take you to the airport.”
I nodded. “Thank you for letting my sibling go.”
He dipped his head, but I could see the sorrow in his eyes. The helplessness.
I picked up the pen, forcing my heart into silence. My hand trembled as I moved to sign my name.
This was what I wanted. This was what I needed. But why did it feel like I was making a mistake? Why did it feel like leaving him wouldn’t bring me the peace I craved?”
“Anna...” His voice cracked.
I looked up, meeting his gaze. His face was flushed, and unshed tears lingered in his stormy eyes.
“I have to, Gleb.”
“Because of our daughter?”
I swallowed. “Not just that.” My voice wavered, but I pushed forward. “We’re caught in a war older than us, Gleb. For my peace of mind, for my sanity... I need to stay away from it all.”
He exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, in a quiet, almost broken voice, he said, “That stillborn baby you held yesterday... wasn’t ours.”
My breath stalled.
My fingers went numb, and the pen slipped from my grasp. “What?”
He looked away, shame shadowing his features. “I should have told you sooner.”
I shot up from the bed, my pulse pounding in my ears. “What are you saying?”
“Our child is alive, Anna.” His voice was low but firm. “He’s a boy. Your father has him.”
The world tilted beneath my feet.
I gripped the bedpost, my knees threatening to buckle. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
He stepped toward me, but I flinched back.
“Our son is with your father,” he repeated.
No,” I whispered, shaking my head. This couldn’t be real. It was too cruel, too impossible. I had grieved. I had mourned. I hadheld a dead child in my arms. But Gleb wasn’t flinching. His jaw was tight, his expression solemn.
“Anna...”
“No,” I said again, louder this time. I stumbled back a step, my breath coming too fast. My chest felt tight, my stomach twisted so hard I thought I might be sick. “You’re lying. You have to be lying.”
“I wish I was,” he said, and the quiet devastation in his voice made my knees weaken. “But our son is alive.”
Something inside me shattered. “And you let me mourn a dead child? You let me believe...” My voice broke. Anguish ripped through me. “How could you?”
“It wasn’t my plan,” he said, his own voice strained. “I thought he was dead too. But then I found out... Your father took him. With my grandmother’s help.”
My stomach twisted violently.
Rage.
“Your father wants you dead, Anna. I couldn’t risk losing you too.” He said. “If I had told you, you’d probably be in Italy right now.”
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think keeping me in the dark was the better option? Do you have any idea how I feel right now?” My voice cracked. “I mourned a child that wasn’t mine. I grieved for a loss that didn’t exist.”
