Page 11 of Her Darkest Possession

Dr. Espina reaches out and places a reassuring hand on my arm. "I can tell you that while you did lose blood, your abdominal area is uninjured. There was no direct trauma to in your lower abdominal region, which is typically good news for the baby. We can prep you for an ultrasound so that we can be certain."

I nod, clinging to that small bit of hope. "I'd like that."

She glances toward the door. "Is he the father?"

The question catches me off guard and a small laugh escapes my lips—the first time I've felt like laughing since discovering my pregnancy. It feels strange but good. Almost normal.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "He's a friend. A good one."

"And do you have any means of contacting the father?" Dr. Espina asks.

The question brings reality crashing back. "No," I whisper. "I don't."

"Is there anyone else we could contact for you? Family? Friends?"

I think of Amara held at gunpoint by Lola's men, of Svetlana bleeding on the sidewalk. "There's no one," I say quietly.

Dr. Espina's expression shifts slightly, concern deepening in her eyes. "Ms. Doe, we'll need some personally identifying information for our records. Something that might help us contact someone for you."

I look at her, unsure how to answer. If I give her my name, then I risk putting myself into a system that Lola can search through. And if she can search for me, then she might come to finish the job.

But then again…

Maybe Anatoly will find me through the same system.

I chew my lip, anxiety twisting in my stomach. "If I give you my real name... will my information remain private? Can the hospital guarantee that people won't be able to find me here?" I lean forward slightly. "It's important."

Dr. Espina' expression softens with understanding. She's probably seen women in situations like mine before—though I doubt any quite as complicated as marrying into the Russian mafia.

"Under patient confidentiality laws, we cannot disclose your information to anyone without your explicit permission," she explains. "We take privacy very seriously, especially in sensitive situations. The only exceptions would be for law enforcementwith proper warrants, but even then, there will be protections in place."

I nod slowly, weighing my options. If I stay as Jane Doe, I might protect myself from Lola finding me... but I'll also make it impossible for Anatoly to find me if he's looking as well.

And despite everything, I want him to find me. I want him to know about our baby.

"My name is..." I hesitate, wondering just how much truth I can give her. Then, I make my decision. "Indigo Baryshev."

A flutter of recognition crosses Dr. Espina' face when she hears the nameBaryshev. Her eyes widen slightly, and her pen pauses mid-stroke on her clipboard.

My heart drops. Is she on bratva payroll? Does she recognize the Baryshev name? Did I just make a terrible mistake?

But the moment passes quickly. Dr. Espina' expression returns to professional neutrality, though I catch a flicker of something—concern? Curiosity?—in her eyes before she masks it.

"Thank you, Ms. Baryshev," she says, writing down my information. "I'll schedule you for an ultrasound as quickly as possible."

She rises from her stool, tucking the clipboard under her arm. "Try to rest until then. I'll send a nurse in shortly to take your vitals again."

With a reassuring nod, Dr. Espina walks out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

A few minutes after Dr. Espina leaves, Marcus returns, nudging the door open with his foot. He's carrying two cups in his hands. A coffee for himself and what smells like chamomile tea for me.

"Thought you might want something that isn't hospital water," he says, setting the tea on my bedside table.

This time, Marcus doesn't push for explanations about where I've been or what happened. He just sits in the chair beside my bed, sipping his coffee. The silence between us isn't uncomfortable. It's the kind that comes from knowing someone long enough that words aren't always necessary.

I'm grateful for his quiet presence. And most importantly, for not making me lie or tell half-truths.

Through the corner of my eye, I catch movement in the hallway and see someone pausing outside my room.