Chapter 16
LEDGER
I stare at my phone. Medical clinic?
I text back: Follow. Report back.
Savannah went to a clinic during lunch without telling me. My first thought is that she’s sick. Something’s wrong. But she seemed fine this morning when we texted.
I try to focus on the paperwork in front of me, but I can’t concentrate. My phone sits on my desk, silent, and every minute that passes without an update makes me uncomfortable.
At 1:23 PM, Pedro texts again.
She’s still inside. The clinic specializes in women’s health. OB-GYN.
Women’s health.
OB-GYN.
I’m out of my chair, and I call Silas before I can think.
“Boss?”
“I need information from a clinic on 5th Avenue. Women’s health center. Savannah went in forty minutes ago, and I need to know why.”
“What kind of information?”
“Everything. Medical records, if you can get them. I need to know what she’s doing there.”
There’s a pause. “Boss, that’s going to require some persuasion. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all.”
“Then persuade them. I don’t care how. Just get me that information in the next hour.”
“Understood.”
I hang up and pace in my office. Back and forth in front of the windows overlooking the city. Women’s health. OB-GYN. It could be anything. A routine checkup. An infection. Birth control.
Or it could be exactly what I’m hoping it is.
Pregnant.
The thought sends a jolt through me.
But if she’s pregnant, why didn’t she tell me? Why go to a clinic during lunch without saying anything?
My phone rings forty minutes later. It’s Silas.
“Talk to me.”
“Got the information. Had to put a gun to the doctor’s head, but he talked.”
“And?”
“She’s pregnant. Six weeks. The doctor confirmed it with a test and an ultrasound. Gave her prenatal vitamins and a follow-up appointment.”
I sink into my chair.
“Boss? You there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” My voice sounds far away. “Where is she now?”
“Left the clinic about twenty minutes ago. Hasn’t gone back to work. Pedro is tailing her, but she’s just driving around the city in a cab.”
“Send me her location. I’m going to her apartment.”
“You sure that’s a good idea? She doesn’t know we’ve been following her.”
“I don’t care. She’s carrying my child and didn’t tell me. We’re having this conversation now.”
I hang up and grab my jacket. On the way out, I text Pedro.
Keep following her. Let me know when she heads home.
The drive to her apartment takes twenty minutes through traffic that makes me want to put my fist through the windshield. I’m thrilled. Terrified. Furious. All at once.
A baby.
Savannah is pregnant with my baby, and she didn’t tell me.
Did she think I wouldn’t want it? That I’d be angry? After everything we’ve been through, after telling her I love her, after making her my wife properly, does she really think I wouldn’t want our child?
Or is she scared? Planning to handle this alone because she’s still holding on to that independence she convinced me to give her?
I park outside her building and take the elevator up to her floor. The apartment is empty when I let myself in with the key she doesn’t know I have. I’ve had it since the day she moved in.
Necessary precaution. That’s what I told myself. Except now it feels like proof that I don’t trust her. That I need control over every aspect of her life.
Maybe she’s right to keep secrets from me.
I sit on her couch and wait. Check my phone every thirty seconds. Pedro sends updates.
Still driving. Heading toward Brooklyn now.
Turned around. Coming back to Manhattan.
Five minutes from her building.
I stand and move to the windows. Watch the street below. See a cab pull up. See her get out, moving slowly, like she’s carrying the weight of the world.
She is carrying something. My child.
And she was going to tell me when?
The front door opens, and she walks in. Stops dead when she sees me standing in her living room.
“Ledger.” Her face goes pale. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“How did you get in?”
“I have a key.”
“I never gave you a key.”
“I know.” I cross my arms. “Sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit. I want to know why you’re in my apartment without permission.”
“Sit down, Savannah.” My voice is cold. Harder than I intended. But I’m barely holding it together, and she needs to understand how serious this is.
She stays standing. “What’s going on?”
“You went to a clinic today.”
Her eyes widen. Just slightly. But enough that I know I’m right.
“How do you—” She stops. Looks at me. “You had me followed.”
“I always have you followed. You’re my wife. There are people who want to hurt me by hurting you.”
“You had me followed to the clinic.”
“I had you followed everywhere. And when my men reported that you went to a women’s health clinic and didn’t come back to work, I needed to know why.”
“So you what?”
“Persuaded the doctor to share information, yes.” I pause. “You’re pregnant. Congratulations, by the way. It would’ve been nice to hear it from you.”
Her face crumples. “I was going to tell you.”
“When? After you’d figured out how to run?”
“What? No. I just found out today. I needed time to process—”
“Time to process.” I move closer, and she takes a step back. “Or time to figure out how to keep my child from me?”
“That’s not—I would never—”
“Wouldn’t you?” My voice drops lower, more dangerous. “You ran once before. Woke up in my bed and disappeared for three weeks. How do I know you won’t do it again? Especially now that there’s a baby involved?”
“Stop it!” She’s crying now. “I’m not running. I was just scared and trying to figure out how to tell you.”
“Then why didn’t you? Why sneak off to a clinic during lunch like you’re hiding something?”
“Because I needed to know for sure before I said anything. Because this is huge and terrifying, and I didn’t want to worry you if it was nothing.”
“I don’t care if it’s nothing, Savannah, and look, it turned out to be something. It’s my child.”
“It’s not your child.”
She realizes what she said immediately. Her hand flies to her mouth, and the color drains from her face.
“What did you just say?” My voice is deadly quiet.
“I didn’t mean—I was just—”
“Not my child.” I’m in front of her now, close enough to see the panic in her eyes. “Six weeks pregnant. Six weeks ago was the night in Vegas. Our wedding night. When we made love for the first time. Are you going to tell me you’ve been sleeping with someone else since then?”
“No. God, no. Ledger—”
“Then it’s mine.”
She’s crying harder now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I was just panicking.”
“Well, stop panicking and start packing.”
“What?”
“You’re coming home with me. To the penthouse. Where you should’ve been this entire week instead of pretending you need your independence.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You can’t just order me around like—”
“I can when you’re carrying my child and there are people who want to kill you.”
That stops her. “What?”
I take a breath. This isn’t how I wanted to tell her. But she needs to understand exactly what she’s gotten herself into by marrying me.
“Five years ago,” I say slowly, “a man named Viktor Kozlov kidnapped Alexi. Held him for three days. Tortured him. Sent me pictures of what he was doing to him.”
Her hand covers her mouth.
“When I found Alexi, I killed Viktor. But I didn’t just kill him. I burned his body. Reduced it to ash so his family had nothing to bury. No closure. No grave to visit.”
She gasps. “Jesus Christ. Ledger—”
“Viktor’s brother, Dmitri, swore an oath that day that I would feel the same pain I caused his family. That he would take everything from me the way I took Viktor from them.”
I move closer, and this time she doesn’t back away.
“You’re my wife now. And you’re carrying my child, which makes you the perfect target. Dmitri has been waiting for years to find something that matters to me. Someone he can use to destroy me.”
She pulls back from my touch, her eyes wide. “You killed someone.”
“Yes.”
“And burned his body.” Her voice is rising now, panic bleeding through. “You burned someone alive?”
“No, not alive. The dead body.”
“What difference does it make, Ledger?”
“Significant—”
“Oh my God.” She stumbles backward until she hits the wall. “Oh my God, Ledger, what are you? Who are you?”
“I’m the same man you married in Vegas—”
“No.” She’s shaking her head frantically. “The same man wouldn’t—you can’t just—people don’t just burn bodies. That’s not normal. That’s not—”
“Savannah—”
“What else? What else haven’t you told me? What other people have you killed? How many?” She’s crying now, tears streaming down her face. “I thought you were a businessman. Hotels and real estate. You said—”
“I am a businessman. The hotels are real. The properties are real. Everything I told you is true.”
“Except the part about being a murderer!”
“I’m not a murderer. I’m a man who protects his family.” I take a step toward her, and she flinches. The movement stops me cold. “Alexi was seventeen. They held him for three days. Tortured him. When I found him, he was barely alive.”
Her breathing is ragged, but she’s listening.
“So yes, I killed Viktor. And I made sure there was nothing left of him. Because men like that don’t deserve graves, they don’t deserve to be remembered.
” I keep my voice steady, even. “But that doesn’t change who I am to you.
I’m still the man who searched for you. Who wants to build a life with you.
I am going to protect you and our baby no matter what it takes. ”
“By killing people.”
“If that’s what it takes, yes.”
She slides down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. “I can’t—I need to think. This is too much. You’re asking me to just accept that you—”
“I’m not asking you to accept anything. I’m telling you the truth. This is who I am. This is the world I live in. And now it’s the world you live in too, whether you like it or not.” I crouch down in front of her. “But I’m also the man you married. The man you laughed with that night in Vegas.”
“I don’t know you at all.”
“And that’s fine. We’ll take it one day at a time, princess.” I reach for her hand, and this time she doesn’t pull away. “I love you, Savannah. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if that means doing things that scare you.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, staring at our joined hands. “What if I can’t live like this? What if I can’t be married to someone who—who does what you do?”
“Then I’ll let you go. I’ll make sure you and the baby are protected, financially secure, and completely safe. But I won’t force you to stay in a world you can’t handle.”
“You’d really let me go?”
“If that’s what you need, yes. But I’m asking you—begging you—to give me a chance. To let me show you that I can be both the man you fell for and the man who keeps you safe.”
She looks up at me, eyes red and swollen. “I’m scared.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I never wanted you to be scared of me.”
“I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of this. Of what it means. Of what could happen to our baby.”
I stand to my feet. “Now, pack your things. We’re leaving.”