Page 93 of Baby for the Bratva King

“Do you have any proof?”

“Do we ever need anything tangible?” challenges my father. “These rumors have been circulating for years, and Felix Pozharsky masterfully sweeps them under the rug by feeding us new announcements, new launch parties—oh, look at the new woman I’m dating. Talk about who I’m dating, not who I hurt behind closed doors.”

“He’s not wrong,” laughs Felix. “This is the approach the Bratva has when it comes to the media.”

“He manipulates public perception. He uses his charm to exploit thousands of women. They love him. Take Saskia for example—she would do anything for Felix, but would he return the favor?” My father pauses for a beat, encouraging the audience to form their own opinions, which, of course, are influenced by his.

Manipulating public perception.

“Have we seen Felix ever do anything for charity?” muses my father.

“Murdering him would be fucking charitable,” grumbles Felix.

I turn and watch him, my heart jumping. People make murder jokes all the time, but Felix is actually dead serious. He will murder my father if he gets the chance, and that makes me feel relieved.

Until I realize killing is a reward for Felix. Not a risk.

I stare at the screen as the audience breaks, discussing things. “He’s using you as a scapegoat.”

“Yeah,” says Felix. “And it’s fucking working.”

Two messages ping through on his phone. Felix takes one look and shoves the device back into his pocket. A minute goes by, two, and his phone starts ringing.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

Felix glances at the screen, grinding his jaw as he considers taking the call.

“I never wanted it to come to this.” My father sits forward, addressing the camera. “But I fear my daughter is in grave danger, and I need your help.”

“Bylat, now what.” Felix declines the call, returning to the TV.

Silence sweeps through the crowd. My father pulls something from his pocket, holding up a clear bag—the kind of thing forensics use to collect evidence.

I see the object inside the plastic bag and die inside.

The leather couch creaks as Felix leans in. “Is that a⁠—?”

“Pregnancy test.”

“Showing positive," says Felix.

“Unfortunately, my daughter is tied to Felix Pozharsky for life.”

“How do we know this test belongs to your daughter?”

My father sinks into his chair, sighing. “Unfortunately, I have CCTV footage from earlier, capturing Saskia running out of the restroom. My youngest daughter, Fleur, abandoned the test to run after her.”

The journalists glance at each other, speechless. “Perhaps we can get this evidence on the big screen.”

“For the sake of my daughter’s privacy and wellbeing, I would prefer if we didn’t.”

A tear falls from my eye. I sniffle, drying my eyes, gaze fixated on the screen because I’m too ashamed to face Felix.

Confront the truth before it confronts you.

I was too late.

“I’m sure Saskia wouldn’t mind,” says the female journalist. “Especially if we can help her.”