Chapter 10 Dimitri #2
“Alexei.”
The silence that follows is absolute. Konstantin goes completely still, staring at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind.
“What?”
I laugh dryly. “You heard me. The baby is Alexei’s.” I laugh again, but it sounds broken even to my own ears. “My dead brother got Vera Ashford pregnant. And then he died, and I married her without knowing, so now I’m sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck to do about it.”
Konstantin leans back in his chair, processing. His face is carefully neutral, but I can see the calculations running behind his eyes. “How long were they together?”
“Eight months. Apparently they were sneaking around behind everyone’s backs for eight months, like some modern day Romeo and Juliet.” Do I sound bitter? I am bitter. “He never told me.”
“Alexei was always... idealistic,” Konstantin says carefully. “He believed in love, in possibilities. Perhaps he thought—”
“Perhaps he thought what? That it would magically work out? That somehow an Ashford and a Volkov could live happily ever after?” I shake my head. “He was naive and stupid. And now he’s dead, and I’m left cleaning up his mess.”
Konstantin is quiet for a moment. “What are you going to do?”
It’s the question I’ve been asking myself all night and it has no good answer.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I could—” I stop myself. Could what? Send her back to her family? Get rid of the baby? Pretend none of this happened?
“You could dissolve the marriage,” Konstantin suggests quietly.
“Annul it, or divorce her. Send her back to the Ashfords and wash your hands of the entire situation. The peace treaty is already fragile and this gives you a legitimate reason to end it. She deceived you, married you under false pretenses. No one would blame you for—”
“No.”
The word comes out immediately before I’ve even thought about it.
Konstantin raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“No one is taking her anywhere.” My hands curl into fists on the desk. “She’s not going back to the Ashfords. She’s not going anywhere.”
Konstantin’s eyebrow rises even further. “Dimitri—”
“That baby has Volkov blood,” I interrupt. “Alexei’s blood, which makes it mine now. My responsibility. My—” I stop, the word catching in my throat. “My family.”
Understanding flashes across Konstantin’s face. “I see.”
I sigh. “Do you? Because I’m not sure I do.” I run both hands through my hair, gripping it hard. “But I know this. I’m not letting the Ashfords raise Alexei’s child. Alexei is a Volkov, which means the baby is Volkov, and Volkov blood stays with family.”
“And the girl?”
“She’s my wife,” I say simply. “That doesn’t change just because she was pregnant before we married. If anything, it makes it more... complicated. But she’s still mine.”
Konstantin studies me for a long moment. “You’re planning to claim the child as yours.”
I nod. “The baby will be raised as mine with my protection. The world will think it’s mine, and that’s how it stays.”
“That’s... quite a decision.” Konstantin stands, moving toward the door. “Are you sure about this? Once you commit to this path—”
“I’m sure,” I cut him off, even though I’m really not that sure.
I’m still reeling from the news, but I’m also trying to reconcile the rage and betrayal with this strange protective instinct that’s taken root.
“The baby is Alexei’s. That makes it sacred.
Untouchable. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone—anyone—take that away or use it against us. ”
Konstantin nods slowly. “Then you should probably go talk to your wife. Mrs. Kozlov says she hasn’t eaten or slept. She’s just been crying.”
My stomach sours. Vera is probably scared and crying for my brother and for the impossible situation she’s trapped in.
A situation I trapped her in.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say quietly.
After Konstantin leaves, I sit for a few more minutes, gathering myself. The alcohol has made everything fuzzy at the edges, softened the sharp edges of my rage into something more like pain than fury.
I can work with pain.
I stand, and the room tilts slightly. Okay, maybe I drank more than I thought. But I’m functional. Mostly. Enough to do what needs to be done.
I climb the stairs to the second floor, my footsteps heavy on the carpet.
I head down the hallway to her door and pause outside, listening.
There’s no sound at all. For a moment, I wonder if she’s even in there, or if she’s found some way to escape.
But where would she go? Her phone doesn’t work.
The gates are locked. The guards have orders.
She’s in there. She has to be.
I open the door without knocking.
The room is dim, curtains drawn against the morning sun. And there, in the massive bed, is Vera.
She’s in a little ball on her side, facing away from the door and still wearing the clothes from yesterday. Her hair is tangled, spread across the pillow in messy waves. I can see her shoulders shaking slightly and she’s either still crying, or just breathing unevenly. It’s hard to tell.
“Vera.”
She goes rigid at the sound of my voice, but she doesn’t turn around or move. She just lies there, frozen.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Please don’t.” Her voice is hoarse from crying. “I can’t—I can’t do this right now. Just leave me alone.”
“I’m not here to hurt you.” I move closer to the bed, and she flinches. The movement sends a spike of something painful through my chest. “I just want to talk.”
“You said everything yesterday. You made it very clear how you feel.” She curls tighter into herself, arms wrapping around her middle. Protecting the baby. “So please just... just go.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we need to discuss what happens now.” I sit on the edge of the bed, and she scrambles to move away, pressing herself against the headboard. Her eyes are red and swollen, her face pale and blotchy from crying. She looks…well, she looks horrible.
I did this. My rage yesterday did this.
“What happens now?” She laughs, but it’s broken. “What happens is you divorce me, or kill me, or send me back to my family with your brother’s bastard? Congratulations, you’ve now officially finished destroying my life.”
“Is that what you think I’m going to do?”
“Isn’t it?” She looks at me with those red-rimmed eyes, and I see only resignation for whatever punishment I’m about to deliver. “You’re furious and you have every right to be. So just... just do whatever you’re going to do. I’m too tired to fight anymore.”
I take a breath. This is harder than I expected and the fucking words don’t want to come out right. So I think back to what I said to Konstantin and use that.
“That baby,” I start, and she immediately moves her hand to her stomach, protective and defensive. “The baby is Alexei’s. Since he’s not here, the baby is mine.”
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“My brother’s child is my responsibility. My family. Which means I’m not sending you anywhere.” I hold her gaze, making sure she understands. “I will claim the baby as mine and raise the baby as my own.”
Her mouth opens and closes, then opens again. “You... you want to claim the baby?”
“I’m claiming both of you.” The words come out rougher than I intended.
“You’re my wife, and that doesn’t change.
And that baby.” I gesture vaguely toward her stomach.
“That baby is all that’s left of my brother.
You think I’m going to let the Ashfords have that last piece of him? No. Absolutely not.”
Tears slide down Vera’s face, her whole body trembling. “I don’t understand. Yesterday you were… You said—”
“Yesterday, I was angry. Hurt. Betrayed.” I’m not apologizing for that, and I won’t apologize for the rage that’s still simmering under my skin. “But I’ve had time to think and process, and this is what makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Her voice cracks. “Your hating me makes sense. Your being furious makes sense. But this? Claiming a baby that isn’t yours? Pretending it’s your child when you know it’s not?”
“It’s Volkov blood,” I say firmly. “That makes it mine. And you’re my wife. That makes you mine, and that’s all that matters.”
“But why?” She’s sobbing now. “Why would you do this? After—after everything? After what I did?”
“Because you’re my wife,” I say simply.
Vera stares at me like she’s trying to figure out if this is real or some kind of cruel trick. And I don’t blame her. After yesterday why would she trust anything I say?
But this isn’t about trust. This is about what’s right and necessary
That baby is Alexei’s and if the baby is mine to protect, then so is she.
“I’m still angry,” I tell her honestly. “At you and Alexei, at this whole fucked-up situation. I don’t know when I’ll stop being angry. Maybe never. But that doesn’t change what needs to happen.”
“And…” She stops and clears her throat. “And what needs to happen?” Her voice is so small and hopeless.
“You stay. The baby stays. We figure out how to make this work.” I stand, needing distance before I do something stupid like try to comfort her. “Dr. Petrov will come back today to check on you, and you’ll follow his instructions. You’ll eat. You’ll rest. You’ll take care of that baby.”
“And us?” she whispers. “What about us?”
Us. Like there’s an “us” to speak of. Like we’re anything other than two people trapped in an impossible situation by circumstances and blood and choices made by people who are dead.
“I don’t know,” I admit, hating how her face falls. “I don’t know what we are. But you’re my wife. That baby will be my child in the eyes of the world. And I protect what’s mine.”
Even if what’s mine was my brother’s first. Even if every time I look at her, I’m reminded of his betrayal.
I protect what’s mine.
And now, whether I like it or not, that includes her and the baby growing inside her.
“Get some rest,” I tell her, heading for the door. “Mrs. Kozlov will bring you something to eat. You need to…” I stop, the words catching. “You need to take care of yourself. For the baby.”
For Alexei’s baby.
I leave before she can respond, closing the door firmly behind me.
And if I lean against that closed door for a moment, trying to catch my breath, trying to reconcile the rage and pain and this strange protective instinct that’s taken root—well, no one needs to know about that.
She’s mine now. The baby is mine now.
And I’ll be damned if I let anyone take them away.