Page 187 of Nine Months to Bear
She still won’t look at me. “You can’t fix this, Stefan. You can’t fix something that was broken from the start.”
“The baby?—”
“The baby will be fine,” she murmurs. “I’m sure your lawyers will work out visitation. Isn’t that what contracts are for?”
I hate the voice that’s coming out of her. It’s empty and cold. Like we’re already done, already divided, already strangers again.
“This isn’t over,” I tell her.
“Yes, it is.” She finally meets my eyes, and I see it all there—the resentment for what I did, the disappointment in what we could have been, and worst of all, the resolve to walk away without ever looking back. “If we’re being honest, there was never anything there to begin with.”
Medina nods to his agents. “Let’s go.”
They start shepherding her toward the door. Her head is high, shoulders straight. Even in handcuffs, even being arrested, she looks dignified. Untouchable.
“Olivia!”
She doesn’t turn around.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She pauses at the door but doesn’t look back. “If only that meant anything anymore.”
Then she’s gone, ducking into the back of a black SUV.
No backward glance. No hesitation. Just… gone.
I stand in my own doorway, Taras still holding me back, watching the convoy of federal vehicles stream out of my gates.
“How?” I ask no one in particular. “How did it all go wrong so fast?”
Taras releases me slowly, like he’s afraid I might chase after the cars. “Mikayla played us. She played us perfectly.”
But that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking how I went from having Olivia in my bed this morning, soft and warm and mine, to watching her leave in handcuffs with hatred in her eyes.
I went from planning a future to losing everything.
I became exactly what I swore I’d never be: a man ruined by love.
66
OLIVIA
The handcuffs dig into my wrists as the SUV pulls away from Stefan’s estate. I focus on that discomfort instead of the look on his face when they took me. Like I’d ripped something vital out of his chest.
Good. Let him hurt the way I’m hurting.
Agent Medina sits across from me, scrolling through his phone. The other agent drives in silence. No one’s read me my rights yet, which seems… off. But maybe they’re waiting until we get to the station or something, I don’t know.
“Comfortable, Dr. Aster?” Medina asks without looking up.
“Peachy.”
He smirks. “That’s good. It’s a long drive.”
“To the federal building? It’s twenty minutes.”
“Who said anything about the federal building?”
