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For a moment, I am frozen, caught between awe and disbelief—my child. Isabella is carrying my child. The realization brings an unexpected warmth to my chest, a sense of wonder that I didn’t think I was capable of feeling.
But then the warmth is replaced by a chilling realization: she wasn’t going to tell me. She planned to run away with my child. Keep this secret from me. Anger and betrayal surge through me, mixing with the shock. She was going to take away my chance to be a father, to know my own child. How could she do that? Isabella knows what an heir means to me.
Every emotion I’ve ever felt for Isabella—love, anger, desire, and now betrayal—collides within me, making it hard to think straight. The idea that she would hide something so monumental infuriates me. The woman I foolishly believed I was falling in love with was willing to deceive me in the worst possible way.
We’ve only known each other for eight weeks, but I had convinced myself that I was falling for her. I was certain that, with time, I could win her heart. But now, I see how my blind determination and insatiable desire for her had me refusing to acknowledge the truth. Isabella used me as a stepping stone to escape her father.
My father was right—love is just a fool’s emotion, one that blinds you from the truth. Out of everything Isabella’s done in her defiance, this is the ultimate betrayal, and it’s shattered whatever illusions I had about her. If we hadn’t found her, I might never have known about my own child.
I clench my fists, trying to contain the storm of emotions raging inside me. I can’t let Isabella go now, not with my child. Despite everything, that baby is mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they stay with me. When our child is born, I’ll give Isabella the choice to stay or go. She can have her freedom then—I’ll take her wherever she wants to go. But my child will remain with me, where they belong.
“We could ask her but I don’t think the Zhukov will let us speak to her!” James’s eyes and voice blaze with anger, snapping me from my thoughts. “Fuck. This is not good.“ His voice lowers some more. “We need to get away from here.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” I glance around. “We’re surrounded by the Zhukov.”
I glance at where a large Russian is leading Isabella away. She turns and looks at me, stopping for a few seconds, our eyes locking. I frown in confusion when I see regret and a flash of longing in her eyes before she quickly turns away.
It stirs something inside me, but I ignore it, reminding myself how many times she’s betrayed me in the few months I’ve known her. Isabella has proven that she’d go to any lengths to get away from me, even putting our unborn child at risk to do so. The thought of losing my child fuels my determination. I will not let her slip through my fingers again.
Konstantin approaches, his gaze shifting from James to me. “Andrey, James,” he greets us, a slight smile playing on his lips. “You’ve grown up, James. Quite the man now.”
“Is that your attempt at small talk, cousin?” James sneers. “Or are you belittling me in some way?”
“I was merely complimenting my cousin on what a great man he’s become.” Konstantin’s eyes remain calm, as does his entire demeanor. “Considering the last time I saw you, you were eight.”
“You saw me the other day when you drugged us!” James reminds him.
“Be thankful for that,” Konstantin tells him, making my anger escalate more. “Most men don’t get to wake up after a visit from the Zhukov.”
“We’re supposed to be grateful to you for that?” I seethe. “You just came upon us without warning.”
“You should always be prepared for the worst, Andrey.” Konstantin stares at me emotionlessly. “The fact that we were able to get as close as we were tells me how rattled my father and yours are over what’s coming. Or that they’ve both gotten so comfortable being the kings of the underworld, they arrogantly think no one would dare rise against them.”
“Is that what this is?” James looks at Konstantin in disbelief. “Roman Zhukov declaring war on the Morettis and Belovs?” His brow creases even more. “Is this about my parents and your mother’s death?”
Konstantin looks at James. “That’s part of it.”
Yes, I’d also like to know what it’s about! But I don’t say that out loud, or Konstantin will think the Belovs and Morettis are not as united as I thought they were.
“All I know is that Isabella is the key to finding out the truth about what happened to her.” James’s words send alarms ringing through me. “There are a lot of people, including Marco and Ivan, that don’t want the truth to surface. Which makes me think whatever it is that’s about to break free is about much more than my parents and your mother’s death.”
“I would take that theory and bury it,” Konstantin advises. “Don’t go sprouting it to anyone else’s ears, as you’ll only increase the danger my sister is already in.” His cold eyes catch mine. “And trust me, you don’t want my sister in danger right now.”
“So it’s true then?” My voice drops with my heart. “Isabella’s pregnant?”
“That’s not what I said.“ Konstantin does his trick of talking around the subject. He glances over our heads and nods at his men holding us. “I have to go.”
Before he can turn and walk away, I stop him. I have a feeling I won’t get a lot more out of the man, but he’s pretty much answered the question. But I have a few more for him.
“What were you doing taking my mother from the hospital?” I demand, my voice sharp. “One of the nurses described the man who took her, and the description fit you.”
Konstantin shrugs nonchalantly. “She wanted to leave. I obliged her.”
“What were you doing there in the first place?”
“Visiting,” Konstantin replies.
“How did you know she was in the hospital?” I push him for answers.
