Page 5 of Mafia Pregnancy

Danielle

“ M ama, can we get ice cream after dinner?”

Leo’s question floats from the backseat as I navigate the afternoon traffic from his preschool to our Pacific Beach apartment.

Today was his second day this week, and he’s chattering about the art project they made with pasta shells and glitter, his excitement infectious despite the weight pressing down on my chest.

“We’ll see, baby. Let’s get home first.”

The photograph haunts me. Yesterday, while dusting the gallery outside Radmir’s office, I paused at a family portrait tucked between his business awards and certificates.

The young boy, maybe six years old, standing between his parents with dark hair and storm-colored eyes looked heartbreakingly familiar.

The resemblance to Leo was so striking it made my hands shake.

Young Radmir had the same bone structure, same serious expression, and same way of tilting his head slightly when he was thinking.

If I had any doubts about Leo’s paternity, that photograph erased them completely. Not that I did, of course.

“Look, Mama. I drew you a picture of our apartment.”

Leo holds up a crayon drawing of stick figures standing in front of a blue square with windows.

There are two figures this time instead of the usual family of three, and I wonder if he’s finally accepting it’s just the two of us.

The thought should be comforting, but it makes my chest ache.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart. We’ll put it on the refrigerator when we get home. ”

I pull into the parking lot of our apartment complex, the contrast between this modest building and Radmir’s estate stark in my mind.

It has peeling paint, broken concrete, and a security gate that hasn’t worked properly in months, but it’s ours, and it’s safe.

Leo doesn’t know enough about the world yet to feel ashamed of where we live.

“Can I play with my blocks when we get upstairs?”

“Of course. I’ll even help after dinner, if you want.”

He nods dramatically, and I smile as we climb the stairs to our second-floor unit. This is what matters. This normal routine and simple life we’ve built together. Not the dangerous pull I feel toward a man who lied to me about everything and looks at me now like I’m invisible.

I unlock the door and Leo rushes inside, dropping his backpack by the couch and immediately heading for his toy box.

The living room is cluttered with his artwork, building blocks, and picture books.

Drawings cover the refrigerator in layers, each one a window into his imagination and his longing for things he doesn’t fully understand.

I’m sorting through the mail when the doorbell rings. Through the peephole, I see Carmen standing in the hallway, her expression concerned. My stomach drops. Has something happened at work? Did Radmir figure out who I am?

“Carmen?” I open the door, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you.” She steps inside, glancing around the small apartment. “You’ve seemed...off the last couple of days since starting the new job. Distracted. Is everything okay?”

I close the door and lean against it, buying myself a moment to think.

Carmen has been my closest friend for almost three years, but I’ve never told her about Leo’s father.

As far as she knows, I’m a single mother, who prefers to keep her personal life private.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The new job is an adjustment. ”

She studies my face with intensity, knowing me well enough to spot a lie. “It’s more than that. You jump every time Mr. Vetrov walks into a room, and yesterday, I caught you staring at that photo like you’d seen a ghost.”

The photograph. Of course she noticed. Carmen is observant in ways that make her excellent at her job and dangerous to my peace of mind.

“Can we talk in the kitchen?” I glance toward the living room, where Leo is building an elaborate tower with his blocks. “Leo, stay in here and play, okay? Carmen and I are going to make coffee.”

“Okay, Mama.”

In the kitchen, I busy myself with preparing the coffee maker, hoping the routine will calm my nerves. Carmen sits at the small table and waits, her patience as unsettling as her questions.

“Talk to me, Danielle. What’s going on?”

I pour water into the machine and measure coffee grounds, trying to figure out how much I can tell her without revealing everything. The truth is too dangerous, too complicated, and too likely to change everything if it gets back to Radmir.

“Do you remember when I told you Leo’s father was out of the picture?”

Carmen nods, her expression softening. “You said he was gone and he didn’t know about Leo.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t tell you the whole story.” I start the coffee maker and turn to face her, my hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Four years ago, I met a man at a party downtown. He told me his name was Mikhail and said he worked private security.”

The memory of that night floods back, instantly reminding me how he looked at me across the crowded room, the confidence in his approach, the way he made me feel like the only woman in the world. I was young and stupid and completely unprepared for someone like him.

“We spent one night together. It was...” I pause, searching for words that won’t reveal too much. “It was incredible, but when I woke up, he was gone. No note, no phone number…nothing. I never saw him again.”

Carmen’s expression grows more serious. “And Leo?”

“Was born nine months later.” I cross my arms, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the kitchen. “I tried to find Mikhail, but the name was fake. The company he claimed to work for didn’t exist. It was like he’d never been real at all.”

“Danielle...” Carmen’s voice is gentle, but I can hear the concern underneath. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Because Leo looks exactly like Radmir did as a child. Because I’m terrified that one glimpse of my son will reveal everything. Because I’m working for a man who doesn’t remember giving me the best night of my life and the most beautiful consequence of my poor judgment.

Instead of those telling things, I say, “He looks a lot like Mr. Vetrov.”

The words hang between us. Carmen’s eyes widen slightly, and I see her mind working through the possibilities.

“How much does he look like him?”

“Enough that it makes me nervous.” I turn back to the coffee maker, watching the dark liquid drip into the carafe. “It’s probably just a coincidence. There are only so many combinations of dark hair and gray eyes, right?”

“Danielle.” Carmen’s voice is carefully neutral. “What did this Mikhail look like?”

I close my eyes, remembering. “Tall. Maybe six-four. Dark hair and gray-blue eyes. He was...” I pause, heat flooding my cheeks. “He was beautiful. Dangerous. Like he could handle anything the world threw at him.”

When I open my eyes, Carmen is staring at me with an expression I can’t read. Something between shock and understanding, fear and sympathy.

“That’s not a coincidence, Danielle.”

My heart starts racing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s not just a resemblance. That’s a perfect description of Radmir Vetrov.”

The coffee maker beeps, signaling it’s finished brewing, but I can’t move.

“No.” The word comes out as a whisper. “No,” I say more firmly. “It’s just an uncanny resemblance. Maybe Mikhail was a distant cousin or something.” I don’t believe that, but I hope she will.

She arches a skeptical brow, and her voice is gentle but firm. “Why would a security guard use a fake name? Why would he disappear without a trace?”

Because he’s not a security guard. He’s Radmir Vetrov, and I’m nobody. He lied to me about everything, and I was too na?ve to realize it. I understand that now, but I don’t think it’s in mine or Leo’s best interest for her to know, guess, or think Radmir might be his father.

My stomach drops, and I grip the counter harder, fighting off the wave of dizziness that threatens to overwhelm me.

Carmen is right about the physical description, but she can’t know the truth.

She can’t even suspect it. “It’s just a coincidence,” I say, my voice sounding strange even to my ears.

“An uncanny resemblance, but that’s all it is. ”

Carmen stands and moves to the coffee maker, pouring two cups with steady hands. “Are you sure? Because that’s an awfully specific set of features to match by accident.”

“What else could it be?” I accept the coffee she hands me, grateful for something to do with my shaking hands. “You think my one-night stand from four years ago just happens to be my new boss? That’s impossible.”

“Is it? Stranger things have happened.” She sits back down, studying my face with concern. “Maybe this Mikhail worked for Mr. Vetrov back then. Security for someone that wealthy would make sense, and he could be a distant relation, like you said?”

The suggestion makes my chest tighten because it’s too close to the truth, but it also gives me an escape route. “Even if that were true, it doesn’t change anything. Mikhail disappeared, and I moved on with my life.”

She frowns. “But the resemblance bothers you.”

“Of course, it bothers me.” I take a sip of coffee, using the time to steady my voice. “It’s unsettling to work for someone who looks like—somewhat like—the man who abandoned me when I was pregnant, but I can handle it.”

Carmen leans forward, her expression softening. “Danielle, maybe you should tell Mr. Vetrov about the resemblance. If this Mikhail did work for him, or is a relative, maybe he could help you find him.”

The suggestion sends panic shooting through my veins. “No. Absolutely not.”

She seems taken aback by my vehemence. “Why not? Don’t you think Leo deserves to know his father?”

“Leo deserves a father who wants him.” I set down my coffee cup harder than necessary. “Not one who has to be tracked down and forced into caring.”