Page 85 of The Russian's Arranged Pregnant Bride

Drew pulled back just enough to look at my face, his gray eyes searching mine. “And?”

“And he’s not going to kill me.” A watery laugh escaped. “He said I took too long to come to him.”

Drew’s entire body sagged with relief. He pulled me close again, and I felt him shaking slightly.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I said, trying for humor even though my voice was still thick with tears.

He pulled back, framed my face with his hands, and kissed me. Soft and gentle and full of so much emotion I thought I might break from it.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against mine.

“No more secrets,” he said. “No more lies. We’re in this together. All of it.”

“No more secrets,” I agreed. “I promise.”

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and I melted into him.

Behind us, I heard Rafael’s door close, giving us privacy.

And for the first time in two years, I felt like I could finally breathe.

The lies were over.

The truth was out.

And somehow, impossibly, I was still standing.

Still loved.

Still part of a family I’d tried so hard to destroy.

Drew took my hand, laced his fingers through mine, and led me toward the elevator.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

Home.

With him. With our baby. With a future I’d never thought I’d have.

“Yeah,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter 23 – Drew

Kirill’s fingers moved across the keyboard with the precision of someone who’d spent years orchestrating chaos from behind a screen. I stood beside him, arms crossed, watching the monitors flicker with encrypted signals bouncing through VPNs and ghost-routed IPs. Six layers deep. Switzerland. Cambodia. The man knew how to hide.

“Any trace?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Not yet.” Kirill leaned back, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration. “Vance is thorough. Too thorough.”

That was what scared me. Vance Donovan wasn’t just dangerous because he was ruthless—he was dangerous because he was patient. He’d had years to build this trap, years to turn my wife into an unwitting weapon against the family I’d sworn to protect. The thought made my blood run hot in my veins, made my hands curl into fists so tight my nails bit crescents into my palms.

I paced the length of Kirill’s den, my reflection ghosting across the darkened monitors. The jazz playing in the background did nothing to calm the storm building in my chest. This was Rafael’s world—calculated, methodical, ten steps ahead. But I’d never been good at waiting. I’d never been good at trusting that the pieces would fall where they were supposed to.

Cassandra had tried to stop me this morning. I remembered the way her hands had gripped my shoulders, her dark eyes wide with something that looked like terror. “Don’t go,” she’d whispered. “Please don’t go alone.” But I couldn’t explain to her that I had to. That if I didn’t end this, Vance would keep using her, keep pulling at the threads of our life until everything unraveled.

“There.” Kirill leaned forward suddenly, his voice sharp as broken glass. “Old email address. Burner account.Not directly traceable, but….” He glanced at me, something unspoken passing between us. “I can use it.”