Page 51 of Sold to the Bratva
Beside him, Oleg steps forward to offer the bare minimum. “Congratulations,” he says, voice cool. “Both of you.”
Isaac nods politely, but his body tenses beside me. He senses it too, the subtle shift, the undercurrent rippling beneath this meeting. Something we’re not being told.
“Thank you,” I manage.
My father nods again.
“You’ll make a wonderful mother, Katya.”
The words should comfort me, yet they don’t. Even as they leave his mouth, something unreadable flickers in his gaze, something he’s not saying.
The longer I sit here, the more convinced I become that we’ve triggered a chain reaction we can’t yet see. With nothing left to say, Isaac and I offer our goodbyes and carry the room’s heaviness out with us.
As soon as we’re back in the car, I finally exhale the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Once the door clicks shut, I stare out the window and watch the trees blur as we roll away from the estate.
“I don’t think he meant it,” I say softly.
Isaac turns his head toward me. “Who?”
“My father.”
He frowns. “He congratulated us.”
“Did he?” I turn to face him fully. “Did you notice how long it took him to speak? How he kept dodging my eyes? He didn’t ask how I’m feeling, how far along I am, if I need anything. He just went quiet.”
Isaac studies me for a moment, then rests his hand on my knee. “Katya, your father’s a man who craves control. This is the first thing that’s happened that he didn’t orchestrate. I’m sure he’s happy in his own way, but this blindsided all of us. And let’s not forget, you ran away when you first found out.”
I fall silent, letting that sink in. He’s not shaming me for bolting but he’s pointing out that my father might need time to process, too. For perhaps the first time, I realize my father is just human. It’s natural for him to need space with something this big.
I press my lips together, glancing at our joined hands. “He’s not happy about it,” I whisper, giving voice to what I feel.
“I don’t think he’s unhappy,” Isaac says carefully. “I think he’s adjusting.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oleg looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.”
“I don’t waste much time worrying about what Oleg thinks.”
Despite myself, I laugh. It’s weak, but real.
Isaac smiles. “Whatever they’re thinking, plotting or not plotting, none of it matters. You and I are a team now. We protect each other.”
I nod slowly, yet the unease remains, settled in my belly like a stone.
“I just wish I could believe it were that simple,” I whisper.
20
ISAAC
The image of our baby won’t leave my head. It replays on a loop as a silent film behind my eyes showing the tiny flutter on the monitor. Katya’s instinctive squeeze of my hand and the quick rise and fall of her breath when our gazes locked. In that instant everything became real.
We heard our baby’s heartbeat today, and it broke me in the best possible way. For the first time I truly understand what it means to cradle someone else’s future. This child holds every hope and dream I’ve ever dared to name.
I pat the pocket where the ultrasound photo rests. The grin stretching my mouth feels permanent, a private promise between Katya, our unborn child, and me.
I close my office door and release a slow breath. Mikhail steps in a beat later, shattering my good mood. The tension in his eyes tells me everything before he even speaks.
“What is it?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want the answer.
