Chapter 23 – Egor
“Get out of my fucking way,” I growled, restraining myself from shoving aside the people clogging the hallway.
Arlo fell in step beside me, and the nurse leading us hastened her steps, whether in fear of the angry sounds of our shoes behind hers or the eagerness to get me to my wife on time, I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t fucking care. What I wanted the most was to see her. And the baby. Definitely the baby.
Freya had called Anna. Anna! Who was fucking miles away in Moscow to report the situation—that she was bleeding and didn’t know what to do. And when Anna tried and couldn’t get through to me, she alerted one of the men in the mansion, who was oblivious to what was happening upstairs. The last time I checked, when a pregnant woman bled, it meant one thing—a miscarriage. I immediately worried about my child, and many questions plagued my mind. What if she lost the baby? But most importantly, to my surprise, I was more concerned about losing her.
I wanted to fume because she hadn’t called me, but on second thought, I could understand why she chose Anna over me. I marched forward, matching the energy of my heart pounding harshly in my ears as we made turns and finally entered the room where she was. Arlo waited outside, giving a subtle but encouraging nod before I closed the door behind me.
It smelled of antiseptic and fresh linens. Freya lay on the examination table, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. My gut twisted with a mix of concern and guilt—I’d never accompanied her to one of these appointments before, always too busy with work, dealing with the Irish, legal issues, and keeping things under control.
The doctor, a middle-aged blonde woman with experienced eyes and a warm smile, with the name tag “Millie,” greeted me with a nod and turned back to Freya. I fixed my eyes on the screen and, for the first time, saw our child, a tiny flickering shape on the monitor. A jolt of wonder surged through me, my gaze locked on the screen as the doctor pointed out tiny limbs and features. Even Freya’s eyes were glued to the screen, her eyes softening.
Doctor Millie smiled and offered us a chance to hear the heartbeat. Freya’s face lit up with a gentle smile as the sound filled the room—a rapid, steady beat that seemed to fill my chest with emotion.
“Everything looks good for now, however...” the doctor said, backing off and staring at us both with her hands tucked into the pocket of her white coat.
However was like buts, and nothing good ever came out of buts.
“If you have something to say, Doctor, go ahead and say it. Time is of the essence.”
She heaved a sigh, and my eyes fixed on the doctor's somber face. “Freya is suffering from preeclampsia,” she said, her voice low and grave as she went on to explain the condition. High blood pressure, severe headaches, swelling—the list went on, each symptom more terrifying than the last.
I turned to Freya, only to see her eyes brimming with tears. She nodded, confirming the doctor’s words.
“I've been having the headaches for weeks. Sometimes, it felt like the ground was slipping from under my feet,” she whispered, and a pang of guilt hit me when I realized I had no idea what she was going through. I had been so consumed by my own world, my own problems, that I hadn't even noticed.
Dr. Millie’s voice cut through my thoughts. “The worst-case scenario is organ damage…even death."
It felt like I'd been punched in the gut, like I’d been tied to a ton of bricks and dropped in the ocean.
"What the fuck do we do now, huh, Doctor?” I asked, struggling to keep the emotion out of my voice.
She took a deep breath. “The best and safest thing to do is to consider an abortion for your wife’s well-being.”
Another hit came in quick succession, the words hitting me like a tidal wave, sucking me right under. I looked at Freya, her face etched with pain and fear, the weight of the decision crushing me.
An abortion.
I knew I wanted this child, our child. It was the only reason I’d married her.
The only reason.
So, if she tried to give birth and died….
Fucking no.
Trying to comprehend the thought was like creating a vacuum, a hole in my chest. The doctor's words echoed in my mind— to ensure her well-being . I couldn't risk having her dead—not now, not ever—even if I struggled to understand why I was feeling this way.
I opened my mouth at the same time she opened hers, but she beat me to it.
“I am keeping my baby.”
Our eyes snapped to hers, the doctor mirroring my shock. I wanted to shake her and ask if she was crazy. Did she not just hear what the doctor said, that she could die ?
“Freya, listen….” Dr. Millie tried intercepting in a way I knew I’d have done worse—I’d have shaken or threatened the sense back into her. But she wasn’t having any of it. Her mind was made up.
“I’m keeping my baby, and that’s final. I’ve gone too far to turn back now.”
My gaze lingered on her face, taking in the subtle curve of her lips and the piercing golden-brown flecks of her eyes. I noticed the sharp lines of her jaw, the determined set of her shoulders. Freya Fox Yezhov was a woman who didn’t back down from a challenge, and I admired that about her. But now, I wasn’t sure that resilience was what we needed. For the first time ever in my life, I was considering playing it safe.
The whole time she talked to the doctor, she made sure my eyes didn’t meet hers.
“Do you know how long I have waited to have my baby in my arms? I told you not to disclose its sex for a reason. I want the surprise of meeting him or her. I want to prepare. I want to….” Her voice broke, and she lifted her chin with even more anger. “No one is going to deny me that opportunity. Not even me.”
Stubborn , feisty , determined . Like me. It turned me on, like flicking a switch and revving an engine, and made me want to smack her hard at the same time.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and curled a fistful of the sheets. “Tell me the precautions. That’s the only thing I want to hear.”
Doctor Millie, who’d resigned herself to knowing she dealt with one of the most hard-headed people ever, backed away with a sigh but maintained her composure. “Fine. If you’re one hundred percent sure that you are ready to go ahead with this pregnancy, there are things you must do to avoid complications with your preeclampsia.”
I listened intently as Dr. Millie outlined the precautionary measures we’d need to take.
“First, we need to be vigilant,” she said and started to explain that Freya would need to follow a strict diet, low in sodium and high in protein, to help manage her blood pressure. She’d also need to take medication precisely as prescribed to control her hypertension and prevent seizures.
“Rest is crucial,” she stressed and then looked at me. “She should avoid any strenuous activities and get at least eight hours of sleep each night.”
She also recommended regular monitoring and blood tests to monitor her condition closely and catch any potential issues before they became serious.
But it was her final point that really struck me. “Most importantly,” she said, “Freya needs to be in a stress-free mental state. She needs to be happy .” She explained that stress could exacerbate her condition, leading to complications, so it was essential we create a peaceful environment for her.
Hearing that did something to me, like a boost to ensure I did everything in my power to protect both her and the baby. Who the fuck was I kidding? I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was willing to try. For them.
The doctor faced Freya and regarded her closely with narrowed eyes. “Did you catch all that, Superwoman? Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up?”
As expected, Freya was hesitant. Then, her eyes finally met mine. It came with a bulldozing flash of hurtful memories— her hurt. She let me in on everything—her pain, her loneliness. In that moment, she was fragile and vulnerable. I knew she was thinking about the challenges ahead, the difficulties of managing her condition alone.
When I’d kidnapped her, strangled her after hearing how she tried to escape…I’d created a hostile environment for her.
I smoothened my palm down my suit and tie.
She was asking me silently how she was going to do this by herself.
Without thinking, I spoke up. “Yes, she’ll keep up. Because I will take care of her.”
Freya’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening slightly as if she was about to speak. But no words came out. She just stared at me, her expression a mix of surprise and doubt.
I knew what she was thinking—I’d never done it before, so how could a man like me, the bane of her existence, take care of her?
Truth was, I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sure how. But I knew I had to fucking try. For her, for our child.
To emphasize my dedication, and to convince the doctor, who looked almost as disbelieving as my wife, I reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“We’ll do this together, wife,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I fucking promise. No harm’s going to come to you or our baby.”
She tried to smile but wasn’t convinced. I saw it in the way she eyed our intertwined fingers. And in that moment, I just knew, somehow, that I would move heaven and Earth to keep this woman safe.