Page 50 of Claimed By my Ex’s Uncle

Ilya pulls over just outside the mansion, and the engine falls silent.

"Rose."

I feel tears dripping down my cheeks, unable to so much as turn to face him.

"Rose, look at me."

I finally manage to do as he asks, locking eyes with him through a blur of tears.

"What did he say to you?”

"He said..." I search for the language to put this in a way that will not force me to face up to the brutal truth of what that man nearly did to my child and me.

“He said that I should get rid of the baby,” I choke out. “Because he knew that you would take them as your heir, and he wanted his son to have that role. Said that he had been training him his entire life to be ready for it, and he..."

I trail off again. God, all of this feels so fucking surreal, the weight of it squeezing me like it might crush me at any moment.

"He threatened me and the baby," I admit. "He was going to..."

I feel the tears swell inside me once more, and Ilya reaches over to pull me into his arms, locking them around me as if telling me there’s nothing in the world he won’t do if it means he can keep me safe. I weep into his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life. I can see now that everything he tried to protect me from, all the harm that he imagined coming my way if I were ever to slip out from under his control… it’s out there, it’s real. And he’s the only person who can protect me from it, as hard as that is to admit. The only person who will take my side, no matter what. The only person who has my back against anything that might come my way.

I lift my head, sniffling, and look at him once more. "You believe me, right?"

He stares at me for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"You believe that he said all of that to me?” I ask. "I know how much you trusted him, how long you worked with him⁠—"

"He threatened you," he replies tersely. "Nobody gets to do that and live. When it comes to you, and my child."

He lays a hand on my belly, as though he can almost imagine the baby listening to this conversation.

"There’s no second thoughts."

His words are so certain, I can’t doubt them. I lean forward, letting my head rest against his. I know we need to get back to the mansion, but right now all I can think about is how much I want to stay here with him, in this moment, in this certainty that he has my back, no matter what.

But eventually, he reaches for the wheel again and drives the last few minutes back to the mansion. His men are clustered at the door, waiting for his arrival, and I wonder if any of them already know about what has happened. If what he’s said is true, a few of them have been sent out to deal with the matter of Sergei’s son, though I’m sure there are still plenty more questions than answers.

"Out of my way," Ilya orders them as he guides me through the door, an arm locked firmly around my waist. I cling to him for dear life, the one thing that makes sense in this mess of a world, the one thing I know I can trust. This man, despite it all, despite everything that he has worked to become, will protect me and my child above all else, and I don’t have it in me any longer to push against the boundaries he placed on me for so long. Not when I know now why they are there.

We reach my quarters, and I slip my hand into his, lacing our fingers as I hold him tight.

"Will you stay with me?" I ask him softly, and a furrow appears between his brows.

"I’d love to," he replies. "But I need to clean up the mess Sergei made."

I lower my head, but I know he’s right. I can’t imagine how many pieces he will need to put back together, how that man he trusted for so long has shattered so much of his organization. It’s selfish of me to want him to stick around here for a little longer, just because I can’t stand to be alone right now.

"I’ll send some guards down," he says, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

"You don’t need to do that."

He stares at me for a moment. "What?"

"You don’t need to send guards down to watch me anymore," I tell him, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I’m not going anywhere, Ilya. Not now. Not ever."

At first, I think that he doesn’t believe a word. But then, to my surprise, a grin spreads across his face. One that, despite everything, looks about as genuine as I could have hoped for.

"Thank you, Rose," he replies, and it sounds like he truly means it. I can tell that this man is not entirely used to expressing his gratitude, but then he’s not exactly used to being betrayed by the people closest to him, either. No, what matters is that things have changed between us, this mess drawing out something new neither of us could have imagined before. And that, in the midst of it all, he has my back.