Page 77 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

My ears rang. The world spun. The ceiling, floor, the doctor's face—everything blurred together.

"About eight weeks."

"You'll need regular prenatal checkups."

"Get rest. Don't overwork yourself."

I nodded mechanically.

"You don't look well. If this is unplanned, New York allows termination, but you need to decide quickly." She softened her tone, seeing my colorless face.

"Also, your levels are abnormally high. We'll need an ultrasound to confirm, but in my experience, you're likely carrying twins."

Twins. I went blank. Two lives? Inside me?

My knees buckled.

"You okay?" The doctor stood to steady me. "Need to lie down?"

"No, no." I forced myself upright. "Thank you, doctor."

I stumbled out clutching the report. My legs felt like cotton. People passed me in the hallway, but I felt disconnected from the entire world.

I found a quiet corner and sat down. With shaking hands, I unfolded the report.

Blood HCG: 210,000 mIU/ml

Reference (8 weeks): 15,000-200,000 mIU/ml

Doctor's note: [Elevated levels. Recommend ultrasound to confirm multiple gestation]

My hand pressed against my stomach. Two tiny lives growing inside. Matvey's children. Mine and Matvey's.

I closed my eyes. Images flooded my mind against my will.

Two children. Maybe a boy and a girl. The boy would look like Matvey—those deep gray-green eyes, that perfect jawline. The girl would look like me. Blond hair. Blue eyes. They'd call me Mom. They'd run into my arms when I came home from work.

If Matvey knew he had children, what would he do?

Maybe he'd freeze. Those cold, steady eyes would show a flash of bewilderment. Then he'd come closer, carefully place his hand on my belly, and ask in a gentle voice I'd never heard: "Really?"

Would he want a boy or girl? What names would he choose? Would he get up in the middle of the night to make bottles and change diapers?

I suddenly pictured it—Matvey Bykov, New York's most feared pakhan, fumbling with a tiny baby's diaper.

I laughed out loud. Tears streamed down my face.

It was all fantasy. He'd sent people to kill me for Veronica. If I told him I was pregnant, what would he do? Force me to get rid of them. Or make me and the babies disappear permanently.

Reality slammed back. My blood ran cold.

No. I couldn't tell him.

These babies were innocent. They shouldn't pay for adult grudges. I'd protect them. Even if I had to raise them alone.

Just two babies. I could work more jobs. Evelyn was getting better. She'd be out soon. We could raise them together.

I stood up, carefully folded the report, and tucked it in my bag. As long as I stayed away from that dark world, stayed away from Matvey, my children would be safe.