Page 47 of The Russian's Arranged Pregnant Bride

His brow arched. “You don’t look fine.”

“Just tired.” I waved a hand dismissively, trying to inject some normalcy into my voice. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Rafael studied me for a long moment, his gaze too sharp, too knowing. Like he could see straight through me.

My pulse hammered in my throat.

Did he know? Had he figured it out? Was this it—the moment everything came crashing down?

“Drew says you’ve been sick,” he said finally.

“Just a bug,” I lied. “It’s passing.”

Rafael’s jaw tightened. “If you need time off—”

“I don’t.” The words came out sharper than I intended. I softened my tone, tried again. “I’m fine, Rafael. Really.”

He didn’t look convinced. But he nodded once, slow and deliberate. “If you say so.”

Then he pushed off the doorframe and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

I waited until I couldn’t hear him anymore before I let out the breath I’d been holding.

My hands were still trembling. My stomach was still churning.

I stood up on shaky legs, crossed to the window, pressed my forehead against the cool glass. The city sprawled below me, indifferent and endless.

Somewhere out there, Vance was planning his next move. Using the intel I’d just handed him like a weapon.

And I had no idea what he was going to do with it.

No idea if people would die because of me.

No idea if Rafael would survive what was coming.

My reflection stared back at me in the glass—pale, hollow-eyed, a ghost of the girl I used to be.

Maybe I’d never been that girl. Maybe she’d died the moment I let Vance convince me that revenge was justice.

My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, half-expecting another message from Vance.

But it was Hailey.Drinks tonight? You look like you need it.

I almost laughed. Almost cried.

Can’t,I typed back.Rain check?

Her response came immediately.You okay?

No. I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay in two years.

Just tired,I sent.Promise I’m fine.

Another lie. Add it to the pile.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and turned away from the window. My laptop was still glowing on my desk, the ledger file still open, mocking me with its neat rows and columns.

Numbers. Codes. Secrets.