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Now, weeks later, I'm facing the possible consequences of those heated moments.
I need to know for sure. But how can I get a pregnancy test without Avros finding out? He seems to know everything that happens in this mansion, his network of guards and staff always watching.
As if on cue, Avros's deep voice echoes from his study down the hall. He's on the phone, his tone clipped and businesslike. This might be my only chance.
Heart pounding, I grab my purse and keys, slipping out of the house as quietly as possible. The guard at the gate gives me a curious look as I drive past, but doesn't stop me. I breathe a sigh of relief once I'm on the main road, though I can't shake the feeling of being watched.
I drive to a pharmacy in a part of town I've never visited before, hoping to avoid recognition. As I walk through the automatic doors, the fluorescent lights and antiseptic smell make me feel exposed, vulnerable. I find the aisle with pregnancy tests, my cheeks burning as I grab three different brands and hurry to the checkout.
The cashier, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, gives me a knowing smile. "Good luck, honey," she says softly as she hands me the bag. I manage a weak nod in return, unsure if I want her well-wishes to come true or not.
Back in my car, I stare at the innocuous paper bag on the passenger seat. Such a small thing, with the power to change my entire life. I can't go back to the mansion to take the tests—the risk of Avros finding out before I'm ready is too great. But where can I go?
I spot a small park across the street, with a public restroom near the entrance. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. I grab the bag and make my way to the dingy bathroom, locking myself in a stall.
The air inside the bathroom is thick with dampness, a musty scent clinging to the walls. The dim light flickers overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow that makes the peeling paint and cracked tiles look even more decrepit. My skin prickles as I take it all in, the smell of mildew mixed with the harsh bite of cheap disinfectant stinging my nostrils. The sound of a slow, irregular drip echoes in the otherwise silent room, each drop hitting the porcelain sink with a hollow, metallic ping that grates against my nerves.
It's so far from what I’ve been experiencing with Avros since I started working for him. He lives in perfect luxury, and this feels like hell compared to that. I guess I’ve grown used to the opulence, but I’m unsure if I’ll ever be able to go back to it once I find out the results of this test.
I glance down at the floor, where grime lines the edges of the cracked, faded linoleum. It sticks to my shoes, gritty underfoot, reminding me that this is far from the sterile, clean environment I imagined I’d be in when taking a pregnancy test.
The stall is cramped, barely enough room for me to stand without brushing against the filthy walls, and the sour tang of old urine lingers in the air. My hands shake as I pull the three tests from the bag, the crinkling sound of the plastic packaging deafening in the buzzing silence.
My fingers fumble with the first one, slippery with sweat, and I curse under my breath as I finally manage to tear it open. The faint plastic smell from the test mingles with the sour air, making my stomach churn even more.
Okay, let’s get this over with before I puke.
I sit down on the cold, hard toilet seat, the chill of it seeping through my jeans, adding to the discomfort that already tightens my chest. Every fiber of my being feels alert, every nerve on edge as I position the test between my legs, my breath shallow and quick.
As I wait for the results, my mind races with possibilities. What kind of father would Avros be? I picture him holding a tiny bundle, his usually hard eyes softening with love. But then I imagine him teaching our child to shoot a gun, explaining the intricacies of his criminal empire. The contrast makes me dizzy.
Would our baby be in danger? Avros has enemies, that much is clear. Would they target an innocent child to get to him? The thought sends a chill down my spine.
What are my options? I could leave, disappear before Avros even knows about the pregnancy. Start a new life somewhere far away, where his dangerous world can't touch us. But even as I consider it, I know I can't. The thought of never seeing Avros again, of raising our child without him, makes my chest ache.
I could tell him right away, lay all my cards on the table. But what if he reacts badly? What if this is the thing that finally makes him see me as a liability rather than a partner?
Or I could keep it a secret, at least for a while. Buy myself some time to figure things out. But no, that wouldn't be fair to Avros. Or to myself.
The timer on my phone chimes, jolting me from my spiraling thoughts. This is it. The moment of truth.
With shaking hands, I pick up the first test. Two pink lines stare back at me, unmistakable in their meaning.
Positive.
I use the second test, then the third. They all show the same result.
Positive. Positive. Positive.
A sob escapes me, echoing in the empty bathroom. I'm pregnant. With Avros Petrov's baby.
My hand instinctively goes to my still-flat stomach. There's a life growing inside me. A tiny being, half me and half Avros. The thought is both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
What kind of life will this child have? Will they be raised in luxury, surrounded by wealth and power? Or will they grow up looking over their shoulder, always aware of the danger lurking in the shadows?
I think of Avros—his strength, his intensity, the way he can command a room with just his presence. Will our child inherit that charisma, that drive? Or will they take after me, more inclined towards art and quieter pursuits?
Then I imagine the darker possibilities. Our child being used as leverage against Avros by his enemies. Growing up too fast, hardened by the realities of their father's world. Learning to handle a gun before they can drive a car.
