Chapter 25Elena
25
Elena
I t’s a slow shift with no surgeries, so I’m filling in at the ER, trying not to think about what Damir told me a little while ago while I adjust the final angle of the marker on my adorable patient’s cast, adding the finishing touches to the cartoon dinosaur I’ve sketched. The six-year-old’s eyes light up as he examines my artwork.
“It’s a T-Rex,” Mateo exclaims, his earlier tears forgotten. “Look, Mama, he’s wearing a cast too!”
His mother smiles, softening the worry lines around her eyes slightly. “That’s very clever, Dr. Clarke.”
“I thought he might like having a buddy who’s going through the same thing,” I say, capping the marker. “Remember, Mateo, no getting the cast wet for six weeks. That means covering it with a plastic bag when you shower or bathe.”
I turn to his mother, Maria, who’s been clutching her purse strap throughout our entire appointment. “The cast needs to stay on for six weeks. If it gets damaged, or if Mateo complains of increased pain, numbness, or swelling, bring him back immediately.”
Maria nods. “And the pain?”
“Children’s acetaminophen as needed for discomfort. No more than four doses in twenty-four hours.” I demonstrate the dosage with my hands. “You can get the medication at any pharmacy. Do you have any questions?”
Maria shakes her head. “Thank you, Dr. Clarke. You’ve been so kind.”
“Just doing my job.” I smile at Mateo, who’s now making his dinosaur stomp across his lap with his good hand. “And Mateo, no more skateboarding until that cast comes off and you get clearance from your doctor, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, though his disappointed expression tells me he’s already plotting his return to the skate park.
As they leave the exam room, I rest my hand briefly on my lower abdomen, the slight swell barely noticeable under my scrubs. Fourteen weeks along now, and everything is changing. It’s not just my body, but how I see my patients too.
I gather my tablet and head to the dictation room near the ER’s nurses’ station to complete Mateo’s chart. Settling into a chair, I pull up Mateo’s file and begin speaking my notes. I pause as I imagine my own son with a broken arm someday. Will he be brave like Mateo? Will he cry? Will Damir pace the waiting room, threatening the entire hospital staff if they don’t treat our child immediately?
The thought brings an unexpected smile to my face. For all his dangerous edges, Damir would move mountains for our child. I’ve seen how protective he is of me, so I can only imagine how he’ll be with our son.
My smile fades as my thoughts drift to Casey and Nikolai. The idea that they’re planning to hurt me—to hurt us—while I’m carrying this child makes me tremble. Casey knows I’m pregnant. Somehow, he knows, and he’s still helping Nikolai coordinate a hit.
I return to dictating, documenting Mateo’s treatment plan. Six weeks in a cast. Six weeks of healing. Six weeks of protection.
How much time do I have before Nikolai makes his move? How much time does Casey have left once Damir finds him?
I save the recording and upload it to his chart before staring blankly at the screen, no longer seeing Mateo’s medical information. Instead, I see Casey’s face, not as he was when I last saw him outside the hospital, desperate and pleading, but as he was when I thought I loved him. When I trusted him.
Damir promised me I would have the final say in Casey’s fate. A death sentence from my lips would be all it takes. The thought should horrify me since I took an oath to do no harm, to heal, and to save lives. Yet when I think about Casey threatening our baby, something primal rises within me. This isn’t about revenge for stealing my inheritance anymore. This is about protecting my family.
If Damir asked me right now what should happen to Casey, I know what my answer would be. The clarity of it surprises me. There’s no conflict and no moral dilemma. Just certainty. Casey made his choice. He chose Nikolai. He chose to target a pregnant woman. He chose to betray me again.
My phone buzzes with a text from Liv: “ Still doing lunch? Cafeteria in 10?”
I glance at the time and realize I’m already running late. I quickly sign off and gather my things. As I walk toward the elevator, I try to push aside the darker thoughts. For the next hour, I’ll just be Elena having lunch with her friend, not Elena the target. Definitely not Elena the judge, jury, and executioner of her ex-boyfriend’s fate.
The elevator doors open, and I step inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. A nurse joins me, nodding in greeting before focusing on her phone. The cafeteria will be crowded this time of day, but my security detail will be watching from a discreet distance, which is reassuring.
The elevator stops at the second floor, and more staff pile in. Someone bumps against me, and I instinctively place my hand over my stomach. The gesture is becoming a habit now. When the doors open at the ground floor, I weave through the crowd toward the cafeteria. I spot Liv already at our usual table near the window, two trays in front of her. Her dark curls are piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s still wearing her scrubs from her ICU shift.
“You’re late,” she says as I approach, pushing a tray toward me. “I got you the chicken salad and sparkling water, and before you ask, yes, I checked—no deli meat, no soft cheeses, and nothing on the pregnancy no-no list.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” I sink into the chair across from her, suddenly aware of how hungry I am. The secluded table in the corner of the cafeteria offers us privacy from curious colleagues. “Sorry I’m late. I had a six-year-old with a broken arm.”
Liv waves off my apology. “How’s the kiddo doing?”
“Better now. I drew a T-Rex wearing a cast on his arm.” I stab a piece of chicken with my fork. “Kids are so tough. One minute, he’s crying, and the next, he’s planning his skateboarding comeback.”
“Speaking of tough...” Liv leans forward, lowering her voice. “How are you doing? Really?”
I take a long sip of sparkling water, buying myself time. The carbonation tickles my throat. “I’m okay. The morning sickness is finally easing up.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Liv’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been different since the ultrasound. Something’s on your mind.”
The cafeteria hums with activity around us, but I see Fydor standing near the entrance, pretending to study the menu board while keeping watch. Valeriya is in the corner, subtly watching the room while pretending to read a magazine. I assume someone else is in the parking garage. Maybe Lev since Damir mentioned sending extra security.
“It’s a boy,” I say finally, my voice soft. “Just like my mom always said I’d have one day.”
Liv’s face breaks into a wide smile. “That’s amazing. Congratulations!”
I nod, trying to match her enthusiasm, but something must show on my face because her smile fades.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I simply stare down at the counter, watching a drop of water slide down the side of my glass.
“I love him,” I whisper.
Liv doesn’t even blink. “Yeah. I figured.”
“Not the baby. Well, yes, the baby too, but...” I push a piece of lettuce around my plate. “Damir. I love him.”
Liv reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I know that too.”
My stomach twists. “I want commitment. Safety. If he won’t leave the mafia, I don’t think I can do this.” Having a literal death sentence hanging over me because my death could hurt Anton brings that into sharp relief.
Liv nods, thoughtful. “So, ask him.”
I press a hand to my stomach. “It’s not that simple.”
“Nothing worth having ever is.” Liv takes a bite of her sandwich. “Tell me what’s going on. The full version, not the sanitized one.”
Everything I’ve been holding inside presses down on me. I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot.
“Since he found out about the baby, he’s been different. More protective, which I didn’t think was possible.” I pick up a cherry tomato with my fork. “Yesterday, he had the entire security system in the penthouse upgraded. Again. He’s installed panic buttons in every room. He checks in hourly when I’m at the hospital.”
“That sounds suffocating,” she says.
“That’s the thing, it’s not, really.” I pop the tomato in my mouth, savoring the burst of flavor. “It’s like he’s trying to build this impenetrable fortress around us. Part of me finds it frustrating, but another part...”
“Finds it touching,” Liv finishes for me.
I nod. “He’s so careful with me now. The other night, I found him in the room that will be the nursery, just standing there, planning. He didn’t know I was watching. He looked...vulnerable.”
Liv raises an eyebrow. “The big, bad bratva boss? Vulnerable?”
“That’s what makes this so complicated.” I push aside my tray, no longer hungry. “I keep getting these glimpses of who he could be. Who he is beneath all the calculation and control. The man who makes me breakfast, who holds me at night, and talks to my stomach when he thinks I’m asleep. He’s a good man in his heart.”
Liv’s expression softens. “Sounds like you’ve fallen hard.”
“I never meant to.” I trace the condensation on my glass. “This was supposed to be a business arrangement. Six months, then we’d reassess. Now there’s a baby, and everything’s changed.”
“Do you regret it?” she asks.
“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. “I don’t regret any of it. Not the marriage and not the baby, but I’m scared, Liv.”
“Of what?”
“Of raising our child in his world.” I lower my voice even further. “The kidnapping attempt was just the beginning.” I consider telling her about the hit but hold off, not wanting to further alarm her. I keep it vague instead. “As long as Damir remains who he is, there will always be enemies. Always be danger.”
Liv studies me, her dark eyes serious. “What are you saying?”
“I’ve decided to give him an ultimatum.” The words feel heavy as they leave my mouth. “After Nikolai is dealt with, he needs to leave the criminal life behind completely, or I’ll have to find a way to leave with our child.”
Liv’s eyes widen. “Elena, you can’t be serious. This is Damir Antonov we’re talking about. The man has resources and connections. You can’t just walk away from someone like that.”
“I know it sounds impossible.” I twist the emerald necklace he gave me absently, used to it around my neck now. “I believe he would let me go if it meant our child’s safety and happiness.”
“That’s a huge gamble.” She frowns. “What makes you so sure?”
I think about the way he looked at the ultrasound screen, and the way his hand trembled slightly when he touched the image of our son. “Because he wants this baby as much as I do. Beneath everything else, he wants to be a good father.”
“And if he refuses?” She arches a brow. “If he says he can’t or won’t leave that life behind?”
The question hangs between us. Outside, clouds drift across the sun, momentarily dimming the light in the cafeteria. “I’ll have to figure out something.” I straighten my shoulders. “I’m a doctor, Liv. I’ve spent years learning how to make impossible choices. How to weigh risks and benefits. This is no different.”
“This is completely different. This is your life and your child’s life.”
“Exactly.” I meet her gaze. “That’s why I can’t compromise on this.”
Liv sighs, leaning back in her chair. “When will you tell him?”
“Soon, or maybe after Nikolai is no longer an immediate threat.” I pick up my fork again, forcing myself to eat. “Right now, we need to be united. Focused.”
“And if Nikolai is never dealt with? These vendettas can go on for years.”
“Then I’ll have to make a decision sooner rather than later.” I take another bite of salad. “I won’t bring my son into a war zone.”
She watches me for a long moment. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights lately.” I attempt a smile. “Turns out pregnancy insomnia is great for moral dilemmas.”
“Just promise me you won’t do anything rash,” says Liv. “No running off in the middle of the night. No heroics.”
“I promise.” I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “You’ll be the first to know my plans. Well, second after Damir.”
Liv nods, seemingly satisfied. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right to demand more. You deserve safety, and your baby deserves it too.”
“Thanks, Liv.” I glance at my watch. “I should get going. I have rounds in twenty minutes.”
We gather our trays and dispose of our trash. As we walk toward the exit, Liv bumps her shoulder against mine. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you. Day or night.”
“I know. Same goes for you.”
We part ways at the elevator, Liv heading back to the ICU while I decide to take the stairs. I need the physical activity to clear my head. As I reach the second floor, I’m drawn toward the maternity ward. I pause at the large window of the nursery, watching the newborns. Some sleep peacefully, tiny chests rising and falling, while others squirm and stretch, testing their new environment. A nurse inside notices me and smiles, holding up a baby boy wrapped in a blue blanket.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” says a voice beside me.
I turn to see Nurse Martinez, one of the oldest and most experienced nurses in the hospital. Her silver hair is pulled back in a neat bun and laugh lines crinkle around her eyes.
“They are.” I turn back to the window.
“You’ve got the glow,” she says matter-of-factly.
I look at her, surprised. “What?”
Nurse Martinez chuckles warmly. “The pregnancy glow. I can always tell.”
“How?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I’ve helped deliver over three thousand babies in my forty years here,” she says, pride evident in her voice. “After a while, you develop a sense for these things. It’s in the eyes mostly. That mix of wonder and terror.”
I laugh despite myself. “That’s exactly how it feels.”
“How far along are you?” she asks.
“Fourteen weeks. Eighty percent sure it’s a boy.”
Nurse Martinez nods approvingly. “Boys are special. I have three sons myself. All grown now with children of their own.”
“Were you scared?” I ask. “When you were pregnant with your first, I mean?”
“Terrified.” She grins. “My husband was in the military and deployed overseas. I didn’t know if he’d make it back for the birth. I didn’t know if I could do it alone.”
“What happened?”
“He made it back, just barely. He walked into the delivery room still in uniform.” Her eyes grow distant with the memory. “But even if he hadn’t, I would have managed. That’s what motherhood does to you. It changes your priorities and shows you how strong you really are.”
I watch as a nurse inside the nursery lifts a fussing baby, soothing it with gentle pats. “My situation is...complicated.”
“Whose isn’t?” she says with a shrug. “My mother didn’t approve of my husband. She said he’d never amount to anything, so we eloped, and she didn’t speak to me for two years.”
“Did you reconcile?” I ask.
“Eventually after my oldest was born.” She smiles at the memory. “The minute she held him, all that anger just melted away. Fortunately, I had friends to help me get through the estrangement and Carlos’s deployments. Sometimes, the family we choose is stronger than the one we’re born into.”
Her words bring a lump to my throat. I think about the family I’ve chosen—Damir, our unborn son, and even Valeriya and Fydor in their own way, and the family I was born into—a mother who died too young, and a father who abandoned me. I can’t argue with her assessment. “Thank you,” I say to Nurse Martinez. “That’s beautiful.”
She pats my arm. “Don’t you have rounds to get to, Dr. Clarke?”
I nod, checking my watch again. “I should go.”
As I walk away from the nursery, the nurse’s words echo in my mind. The family we choose. I’ve chosen Damir, for better or worse. Now I need to decide if I can live with all that choice entails, or if I need to make a different choice for my son’s future.
With a start, I realize I’ve managed not to think about Damir’s search for Casey for at least an hour. With that, the worry returns, and I rush back to the ER, eager to find a distraction.