Page 173 of The Enemy Protector
“You trust me?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Then give me a day or two.”
“Okay.”
She settles back against me.
There will be time to worry about Moscow tomorrow.
41
Sofia
The funeral was last week. Three days of performative grief from people who either feared my father or wanted something from him. I stood at the front in black Prada, accepting condolences I didn’t want, shaking hands with men who were already calculating how to use his death to their advantage. They were already deciding how they could manipulate me. Push me.
They’d learn.
I played my part perfectly. The grieving daughter. The strong heir stepping into her birthright.
It was exhausting.
One day they’d push me, but for now, they’re still in watch and wait mode.
Tori showed up to the funeral. We didn't talk much, but she squeezed my hand on her way out and I held on longer than I meant to. We've had coffee twice since then. It's different now, quieter, more careful, but it's still us. Some friendships don'tbreak. They just learn to bend around the things you can't say out loud.
There are too many things that demand my attention right now. My father’s estate needs to be handled. The lawyers keep calling. There are properties to liquidate, accounts to close, business holdings to transfer. I’ll handle it eventually. Just not today.
I’m still leaning toward lighting a match and letting it burn.
The only thing that stops me is my mother’s presence. That was her home. Maybe I can find pieces of her life stashed in some old closet. I’ll look.
But not today.
Today, I have something more important.
An hour later, I sit in the exam room, Sergei beside me, both of us staring at the ultrasound screen. The technician moves the wand across my stomach, her eyes focused on the monitor. She’s been quiet for too long. My heart rate picks up.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
She smiles. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just making sure I’m seeing this correctly.”
“Seeing what correctly?” Sergei’s voice is tight.
The technician turns the screen toward us more fully. “You’re having twins.”
The words don’t register at first.
“Twins?” I repeat.
Fear grips me. I wasn’t sure I would be a good mother to one. And now there are two?
“Yes. See here?” She points to two distinct shapes on the screen. “Baby A and Baby B. Both have strong heartbeats. Both measuring right on track for nine weeks.”
I stare at the screen. Two babies. Two tiny lives growing inside me.
“Twins,” Sergei says, and I hear the wonder in his voice.
