Page 84 of The Russian's Arranged Pregnant Bride

“I was scared,” I admitted.

“I know.” He turned to look at me, and for the first time since I’d known him, his expression was almost warm. “And I don’t blame you for that. You’ve spent your entire life with no one to trust, no family to turn to, no stability. Of course, you were scared.”

Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.

“But you’re not alone anymore,” Rafael said. “You have Drew. You have this family. You have a child on the way who will grow up knowing exactly where they come from and who they belong to.”

I couldn’t speak. Could only nod.

“Vance Donovan is being handled,” Rafael said, his tone shifting back to business. “Kirill is tracking his movements.When we find him, we’ll deal with him. Permanently. You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

“What about me?” I asked. “My job?”

Rafael returned to his desk and sat down. “You’re still my assistant. Still trusted with my schedule, my files, my operations. Nothing changes.”

“How can you trust me after everything?”

“Because you proved yourself,” Rafael said simply. “You had every reason to destroy us, every justification. Vance gave you the perfect motivation, the perfect cover story. And yet, when it came down to it, you chose to protect us. That tells me everything I need to know about where your loyalty truly lies.”

I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand, feeling lighter than I had in months. Maybe years.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Rafael’s lips quirked into a small smile. “You’re about to have a baby with a Kamarov. Your life is going to get significantly more complicated.”

Despite everything, I laughed. It was watery and broken, but it was real.

“Now go home to your husband,” Rafael said, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s been pacing outside this office for the past hour, convinced I’m going to have you killed.”

My eyes widened. “Drew’s here?”

“Where else would he be?” Rafael raised an eyebrow. “He wouldn’t let you come alone. Said something about ‘over my dead body’ when I suggested it.”

More tears. God, I was such a mess.

I stood up on shaky legs, walked to the door, and paused with my hand on the handle.

“Rafael?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not trusting you. For putting people in danger. For—”

“Cassandra.” His voice was firm but not unkind. “You’ve apologized enough. Now go. Before Drew breaks down my door.”

I nodded, opened the door, and nearly collided with Drew, who was indeed pacing in the hallway outside Rafael’s office.

The moment he saw me, his eyes went wide, scanning my face, my body, looking for injuries or signs of distress.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands immediately going to my shoulders. “What did he say? Are you—”

I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest, sobbing.

Drew held me tight, his arms wrapping around me like a shield, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against my hair. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“He knew,” I said between sobs. “He’s always known. And he—he told me about my father. About Vance. About everything.”