Page 66 of 7+Us Makes Nine

Tears rushed my eyes and I quickly turned off the television.

I was angry. Frustrated. But less at Jace and more at the circumstance. If we were public, they wouldn’t be asking questions like that. The media wouldn’t be asking if Anya and Jace would be ‘reuniting their lost love’ or some bullshit. But there was a chance they would skew our relationship. Make it seem salacious and dirty. Like Jace had dropped his standards to sleep with his nanny and was now owning up to his mistake.

My hand fell onto my stomach as a tear dripped down my face.

My child wasn’t a mistake. My child wasn’t dirty.

But more and more, I was beginning to see why Jace wanted to keep this hidden.

And it made me angrier that I was understanding.

I didn’t want to understand. I just wanted it to not be. And I knew that was the immature, selfish part of me talking. I knew it was. But my entire life, everything had been about someone else. The only time it had ever been about me was when my parents were pushing me into college courses that would groom me to take over the family business. And when I put my foot down, it became about Hannah. About her success, then eventually? About her drug problem. Her drinking problem.

At Lawrence Day? It was about their reputation and their donors.

With Jace? It was about protecting his children.

With Anya? It was about doing whatever she could to get back her family. Or destroy it. Or whatever type of crusade she thought she was on.

In my childhood? It was about what I could do for my family’s legacy.

With my sister? It was about how I could cover up for her with Mom and Dad so she could go party.

I was never the focus. My health and my happiness and my benefit was never the focus. That was why I had been so taken with Jace. He was so attentive in bed. Attentive to my wants and my kinks and my needs. Attentive to what I needed throughout the day and never hesitated to make himself available so we could talk. About anything and everything.

But now? When I needed his kindness and care and attention the most?

It was about someone else.

“Breaking News with Hollywood’s Fallen Angel. Official reports are stating that Anya and Jace’s adopted sons from the Ukraine are, in fact, not Anya’s legal children.”

My head whipped up at the news station and I turned the television up as loud as I could stand it.

“An official source from Jace Logan has provided us with documentation regarding the true story behind their sons’ adoption. And if these documents are verified as correct, then it would seem that Anya Petrov has no legal grounds to claim her sons. Bradley Sinclair is with us live from outside Fireside Theater for the details.”

“Thank you, Mike. Breaking news here in San Francisco. According to documents released by an unnamed source close to Jace Logan, the only signature on the adoption documents for his sons is his. Miss Petrov’s signature is nowhere to be found. And if those papers were used to file adoption records on the boys, then that would mean Anya Petrov is not their legal mother.”

“Does that mean if she were to take her ex-husband back to court, that she could only fight for the custody of her daughter.”

“Yes, Mike. If these papers were to hold up in a court of law, then that would mean the only child she could take custody of would be her daughter. Now the question is this: will Anya fight for her only child? Or will she continue to rally around the two boys she helped raise and continue fighting for all three? Only time will tell, Mike.”

“Thank you for that update, Bradley.”

I sat there, stunned. Ivan and Dmitri weren’t Anya’s children? I wanted to call Jace and ask him about it. Ask him if he was the one that leaked the documents to the media. My shoulders felt heavier than normal. I really hoped that the schools were staying diligent in keeping Jace’s children way from the television. Because I didn’t want them being inundated with all this. If the media was going to start speculating about Anya not really being their legal mother, it could rip the boy’s hearts in two.

Then, a familiar voice wafted through the television.

“What?” Anya asked.

“Are the reports true, Miss Petrov? That Ivan and Dmitri aren’t legally your children?” the reporter asked.

“Even if it was, that doesn’t stop me from fighting for my daughter. If I don’t have any legal grounds to my sons, then that’s fine. But that’s my family. I raised those boys. And the courts can have their say if they want it, but Michaela is mine. My little girl. I gave birth to her. Nursed her. Stayed up during all hours of the night with her. Yes, I spiraled. Yes, I have issues I’m sorting through. But that doesn’t make me an unfit human being. I love my daughter, and I love my sons. But if Jace is going to resort to throwing legalities at me and claiming I was never their mother when I cleaned up after them and wiped their asses and fed them food from my hands, then he’s got another thing coming. If I can’t fight for them, fine. But I can fight for my daughter. And I will. Mark my words.”

My jaw hit the floor. Mark her words? What was this, some sort of film she was making? Had Anya really become that delusional? I couldn't even begin to unpack her statement. She had no legal grounds to those boys, allegedly. So, she tossed them off to the side. She just said on national television that if she couldn't fight for them, she wouldn’t. That she was willing to split up her family if it meant fighting to get custody of Michaela. What kind of woman wanted that for her family?

Certainly not one that was looking out for their well-being.

I turned off the television as another swell of nausea crept up my throat. I dashed into Jace’s bathroom and threw his toilet open. I hit my knees as my stomach clenched, forcing up whatever few food particles I could keep down during the torrential downpour of bullshit over the past two weeks. I felt weak. Humiliated. Fearful. Frustrated. So many things I didn’t need to be feeling while growing a child inside of me.

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