Page 2 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

I pursed my lips, exhaled sharply, and went in the other direction.

Wren was worried about my mental health and the toll these responsibilities were taking on me.

But she didn’t know the half of it. My life hadn’t always been this way—boring and empty.

I wasn't always the backbone of my family and didn’t always carry so much weight.

I didn’t even have any serious responsibilities at first. None whatsoever.

I was just a regular kid with regular parents who loved and adored each other.

The closest thing to a responsibility that I had back then was making sure the twins, Micah and Zara, always behaved at home. Noah was a lesser evil compared to the other two, which was strange because he was the youngest at the time.

That was it. Just that.

However, eight years ago, everything changed in the worst way possible.

Mom got pregnant with Emilia. The delivery was complicated, and that complication was what complicated my life. Ruined my life, if I’m being more precise. Emilia was delivered safe and sound. But at a cost none of us was ready to pay.

Mom’s life.

Her death shook the entire West family and changed everything as we knew it. Nothing was ever the same after that tragedy. Not at all.

To deal with his grief, Dad became someone else, something else. He hit the bottom of the bottle in search of comfort and gave himself completely to alcohol. He lost his job because he became a drunk who couldn’t get anything done right at the office.

After that, things just moved from bad to worse. He found a new career in gambling, and as expected, he lost everything—his savings and what little money he had left.

At this point, I didn’t have a choice but to grow up fast. My father mourned the dead and abandoned the living.

Who does that?

I couldn’t understand how someone could do such a thing to their own family.

He neglected all of us: me, the twins, and Emelia.

Someone had to do something. So, I stepped in before we’d all starve to death.

And just like that, I took on a burden for a fourteen-year-old.

I became Mother, sister, guardian, and housekeeper all in one breath.

It wasn’t easy at first, but as time went on, I adjusted and learned to live with this responsibility.

As daunting and demanding as it was, I didn’t regret it. Not one bit. Because, unlike our father, my conscience was still alive; I still cared about the well-being of my siblings and would do anything to ensure they were fine. Or at least something along that line.

Just as I was about to round a corner down the street, a rusted sedan slowed beside me. I looked at the vehicle, and Liam leaned out the window, his familiar grin lighting up his face.

“Hey, Leona,” he called, “need a ride?”

Yes, please , I thought to myself. But what came out was, “I’m good, Liam. Thank you.”

He hesitated for a second, his car engine still running. “You sure?” His shoulders shrugged. “I really don’t mind dropping you off.”

“I know you don’t. And I appreciate the offer. But really, I’m good.” I faked a smile even though I could use the ride.

It broke his heart to leave me on the sidewalk like that, but Liam always respected my decision.

Liam had come through for me more times than once—homework or school projects and stuff like that. He was a good guy. Gentle and sweet.

And yes, I knew how he looked at me most of the time. However, love—or whatever that was supposed to be—wasn’t exactly on my to-do list right now. It was yet another luxury that I couldn’t afford.

Still, it was nice knowing he felt something romantic for me.

Ten minutes later, I got home, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. “I’m home!” My voice echoed off the walls. “Argh!” I frowned at the stale stench of smoke and cheap whiskey that floated in the air.

Beneath all of that was the smell of sweat and something I couldn’t quite name. But I guessed it was puke.

Dad sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly with one leg resting on the coffee table and the other on the armrest. The floor was littered with empty whiskey bottles and packs of cheap cigarettes. A trash can sat beside him, the inside stained with vomit.

I knew it smelled like puke in here.

My shoulders slumped in dismay, and my backpack dropped to the floor as I scanned the living room he’d turned upside down. I made sure everything was in order before I left in the morning, only to come back to this.

But I wasn’t surprised. This was his usual behavior—always ruining stuff.

At this point, I couldn’t even get mad or stay mad at him—it was useless. He didn’t care.

I let out an exhausted sigh and nudged his leg.

Nothing.

Just a grunt.

“Dad.” I tapped him.

Still nothing.

He only adjusted on the couch and continued snoring.

“Lee?” Emelia called from the hallway, her cute voice laced with excitement.

“In here, Emmy!” I called back, a smile playing on my lips.

I straightened, hands flying to my head as my fingers tied my red hair into a messy bun.

Tiny footsteps padded across the worn floorboards, and soon, Emmy appeared, cheeks flushed, holding a teddy bear I gave her last year. Her curls were wild, and her eyes were wide—still babyish, though she was eight now.

Within these walls, I wasn’t just a sister. I was everything—the closest thing Emmy had to a Mother.

She rushed over to my feet, giggling as I picked her up in my arms. “You look exhausted,” she said, her voice sweet and adorable. Her gaze flickered to Dad snoring on the couch. “But at least you’re on your feet.” She cackled.

“Shhh.” I placed a finger over my lips, laughing as I stepped away from the living room. “Where’s everyone, Emmy?”

“They’re all looking after Micah in his room,” she answered, toiling with my bun and the strands that framed my face. “He’s getting better now.”

“Thank goodness,” I replied, letting out a sigh.

As we headed to Micah’s room, Emmy was more than happy to fill me in on everything that happened while I was away. She talked so fast and with so much enthusiasm, like she’d been waiting all day to report her siblings to me.

She was my mole in the house—my little informant.

This was my life. School. Chaos. Survival. Kids. On repeat. It was hard and boring. Yes.

But it was also all that I knew, and these kids…they gave me purpose.