Page 32 of Mafia Pregnancy

Danielle

T he drive home feels endless, even though it takes less than ten minutes.

Leo chatters excitedly in his car seat about Radmir’s knowledge of dinosaurs and how nice he seemed, but I can barely focus on his words.

My hands shake slightly on the steering wheel as I replay every moment of our encounter at the ice cream shop.

I can’t stop thinking about the way Radmir looked at Leo when he first saw his face clearly.

I saw the recognition in his face before he calmed his expression and noticed the way he asked questions about Leo’s father.

I’m certain he knows, and the realization makes my stomach churn with something that has nothing to do with pregnancy sickness.

“Mama, did you hear what I said about the dinosaurs?” Leo’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts.

“I heard, sweetheart. You had a nice conversation with Mr. Vetrov.”

“He’s really smart. I bet he knows all about the big plant-eating ones and the scary meat-eating ones too.” Leo kicks his feet against his car seat. “I like him. He listens when I talk, and he doesn’t make me feel like my questions are silly.”

The innocent enthusiasm in his voice makes my chest ache. Leo has no idea he just spent an hour with his father. He has no idea the man who bought him ice cream and listened to his stories about preschool drama is the same person I’ve told him is gone.

I park in our designated spot at the apartment complex and help Leo out of his car seat.

He skips ahead toward our building, still bubbling with excitement about meeting “Mr. Radmir” and the prospect of learning more about dinosaurs from him in the future.

I follow more slowly, mind racing through possible scenarios for what comes next.

Radmir could confront me directly at work on Monday. He could demand answers, threaten legal action, or worse. He could use his wealth and connections to take Leo away from me entirely. The thought makes my knees weak as I climb the stairs to our second-floor apartment.

“Mama, you’re walking really slowly,” Leo observes, waiting patiently by our door. “Are you tired?”

“A little bit, sweetheart.” I unlock the door and usher him inside, grateful for the familiar comfort of our small home. The living room is cluttered with his toys and drawings, all evidence of the life we’ve built together without outside interference.

He immediately runs to his toy box and starts pulling out his collection of plastic dinosaurs. “I want to show you which ones Mr. Radmir might know about. He said he loves dinosaurs, so maybe next time I can teach him about the ones he doesn’t know yet.”

The assumption there will be a next time makes my stomach clench. “Leo, Mr. Vetrov is very busy with his work. He probably won’t have time to learn about dinosaurs very often.”

He frowns up at me. “He said he’s never too busy for paleontology.” Leo arranges his dinosaurs in careful rows on the coffee table. “That’s the fancy word for studying dinosaurs. Miss Jennifer taught us that at school.”

I remember Radmir using that exact word, and the way his gaze never left Leo’s face when he said it. Every interaction felt loaded with meaning I hoped my son was too young to understand. “He was being polite, sweetheart. Adults sometimes say things to be nice.”

Leo considers this with the seriousness he brings to most adult explanations. “I know, but he seemed like he really meant it. He asked me lots of questions about what I like, and he remembered everything I told him.”

Of course, he did. Radmir was gathering information, filing away details about his son’s interests and personality.

I wonder what other conclusions he drew from our conversation.

Did he notice how tired I looked? Did he catch the way I kept touching my stomach subconsciously before remembering not to do that?

The baby chooses that moment to make its presence known with a wave of nausea that sends me hurrying to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before dry heaving, my empty stomach having nothing left to give up.

“Mama, are you okay?” Leo’s worried voice comes from the hallway.

“I’m fine, baby. Just feeling a little sick. Can you stay in the living room for a minute?”

When I return to the living room, Leo has moved his dinosaur display to the floor and is creating an elaborate scene with his plastic figures. “Look, Mama. The big plant-eaters are protecting the little ones from the meat-eaters, just like you protect me.”

His innocent observation makes my throat tighten with emotion. “That’s exactly right, sweetheart. That’s what mamas are supposed to do.”

“Is that why you work so hard? To protect me?”

The question catches me unexpectedly with its perceptiveness. He’s only three and a half, but he notices more than I give him credit for. “Yes, Leo. Everything I do is to make sure you’re safe and happy.”

He nods solemnly, then returns to his dinosaurs.

I settle onto the couch and watch him play, trying to memorize this moment of peace before everything changes, because it will change.

After today, and the way Radmir looked at Leo, along with the careful questions he asked, there’s no going back to pretending Leo isn’t his.

My phone buzzes with a text message from Carmen. How did the errands go? Everything okay? Nausea finally easing up?

I consider lying, telling her everything went fine and we had a quiet afternoon. Instead, I find myself typing the truth, skipping the nausea question: We ran into Radmir at the ice cream shop. He bought Leo ice cream and asked about his father.

Her response comes immediately. Oh, no. Do you think he knows?

I’m sure he knows. The resemblance is too obvious when you see them together.

What are you going to do?

I stare at the question for a long time before texting back: I don’t know.

Three dots appear and disappear several times before her next message arrives: Maybe it’s time to consider telling him the truth before he confronts you about it.

The suggestion makes my hands shake as I type back: I can’t. You know what his world is like. After what happened with that man breaking in, how can I voluntarily expose Leo to that danger?

If he already knows, hiding won’t protect Leo anymore. It might actually make things more dangerous.

I want to argue with her logic, but I can’t find a flaw in it. If Radmir has figured out Leo is his son, pretending otherwise won’t keep us safe. It might even make him angry enough to take action I can’t predict or control.

I need to think. Can we talk tomorrow?

Of course.

I set the phone aside and focus on Leo, who’s now making sound effects for his dinosaur battle.

His complete absorption in play reminds me why I’ve been so determined to protect his innocence.

He shouldn’t have to worry about dangerous men or complicated adult problems. He should be able to focus on dinosaurs and preschool friends and whether we can get a pet someday.

“Leo, it’s time to start getting ready for your bath. ”

“Five more minutes?” He looks up at me with pleading eyes, a tactic that worked earlier at the park.

“Five more minutes,” I agree, because I’m not ready to end this normal evening routine yet either.

While he plays, I think about the conversation I had with Radmir in his office a few days ago, and the vulnerability he showed when he talked about Luca and the costs of his world. For a moment, he’d seemed like someone I could trust with the truth, who might understand why I’ve been so afraid.

The loneliness in his voice when he mentioned people he couldn’t protect made me think he’d want to protect us too. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d find a way to keep us safe while being part of our lives.

Or maybe he’d decide we’re liabilities he can’t afford, complications that make him vulnerable to his enemies and send us away…or worse.

The five minutes pass too quickly, and I help Leo gather his dinosaurs back in his tote before we get ready for bedtime. In the bathroom, he chatters about his day while I run his bath water, testing the temperature with my elbow the way my aunt taught me years ago.

“Mama, can we hang out with Mr. Radmir again sometime? Maybe he could come for dinner and I could show him my whole dinosaur collection, not just the ones I brought to the living room.”

The hopeful question makes my heart clench. “Mr. Vetrov is very busy with his work, sweetheart. I’m not sure he’ll have time to visit us.”

His lower lip protrudes. “He wanted to. He said he hoped he’d see me again.” He climbs into the tub and immediately starts playing with his bath toys. “Maybe if we invited him nicely, he could make time.”

I kneel beside the tub and help him wash his hair, trying to find words that won’t disappoint him but also won’t encourage false hope. “Sometimes, adults have to make difficult choices about how they spend their time. Mr. Vetrov has a lot of important responsibilities.”

“More important than dinosaurs and spaghetti?”

The innocent question makes me smile despite my anxiety. “To some people, yes.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s silly. Dinosaurs are the most importantest thing ever, and your spaghetti is really good.”

I manage a smile. “Thank you, baby. I’m glad you think so.”

After his bath, I help him into his dinosaur pajamas before we settle into his bed for story time. Tonight’s book is finishing up the dragon librarian series, and Leo listens with rapt attention as I read about the dragon’s struggles with power and responsibility.

“The dragon reminds me of Mr. Radmir,” he says when I finish the story. “He seemed kind of scary at first, but then he was really nice when we talked about dinosaurs.”

The comparison makes me pause. There’s wisdom in Leo’s simple observation that I hadn’t considered. Radmir does have that quality of authority that could be frightening or protective, depending on how it’s directed.

“Some people seem scary because they have big responsibilities,” I say as I tuck him in. “That doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“Like police officers or firefighters?”

“Something like that.” I’m glad he doesn’t ask me if Mr. Vetrov is a bad man. I have no idea how to answer that honestly. I’m sure he does bad things, but does that make him a bad person? The answer doesn’t immediately pop into my mind.

I kiss his forehead and turn on his nightlight, a small dinosaur that projects green stars on the ceiling. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mama. Maybe tomorrow we can call Mr. Radmir and ask if he wants to learn more about dinosaurs?”

“We’ll see,” I say, because I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s not that simple. I hope he’ll have given up on the idea by morning. I don’t want Radmir to become an obsession.

I close his bedroom door and lean against it for a moment, listening to him settling into sleep. In a few minutes, he’ll be dreaming about dinosaurs and dragons, blissfully unaware of the adult complications threatening to upend our peaceful life.

I’m running out of time in more ways than one. The pregnancy will become obvious soon, and Leo is already talking about wanting to see Radmir again. Every day I wait to address this situation makes it more complicated and potentially more dangerous.

The smart thing would be to quit my job at the estate immediately and disappear with Leo before Radmir can act on whatever suspicions he has. We could move to another state and start over somewhere he can’t find us.

The thought of running makes me feel sick.

Leo loves his preschool and his friends.

He adores Carmen and looks forward to her guitar lessons.

He has a relationship with Aunt Molly that brings him stability and love.

Uprooting him from everything familiar seems cruel, especially when he’s too young to understand why it’s necessary.

More than that, I’m tired of running from decisions I made before I knew better.

I was twenty-three and naive when I slept with a man whose real name I didn’t know.

I was scared and overwhelmed when I discovered I was pregnant with no way to contact him.

Every choice I’ve made since then has been about protecting Leo, but maybe I’ve been protecting him from the wrong things.

Maybe the danger isn’t Radmir himself, but the secrets I’ve been keeping from him. Oh, and the danger his world represents. Can’t forget about that.

I brush my teeth and change into pajamas, going through the motions of my evening routine while my mind churns through possibilities.

I could call in sick on Monday and avoid facing Radmir until I decide what to do.

I could write him a letter explaining everything and leave it on his desk, then disappear before he has a chance to respond.

Or I could trust that the man who bought my son ice cream and listened patiently to his stories about preschool drama might be someone I can work with to find a solution that protects everyone involved.

I created this situation by keeping Radmir’s identity secret from Leo and Leo’s existence secret from Radmir. Now, I have to find a way to untangle the web of lies I’ve woven, hopefully without destroying the people I love in the process.

I close my eyes and try to sleep, but my mind keeps returning to the expression on Radmir’s face when Leo asked if he had children, and the carefully neutral way he said he hoped to soon.

He knows Leo is his son. The question now is what he plans to do about it, and whether I’ll have any say in how this plays out.