Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
It is a new practice. I am certain of it.
Kirill also seems extra agitated. He’s snapped at our chaperone a number of times, telling him his demands are ridiculous and that he expects an apology when his accusations are founded as untrue.
“In Russia, you would be castrated for such insinuations.”
The blond man with a wonky nose doesn’t balk at his angry tone. He merely stands when the doctor’s nurse calls me into the examination room before snapping his eyes to Kirill. “Stay here.”
Kirill’s face reddens with anger. “She is my wife!”
“Then you should trust her with me fullheartedly, right?”
Kirill has not a single thing to say.
The direction of a second man’s gun doesn’t give him much choice.
For once, he is being held for ransom, and I can’t help but smirk at the knowledge.
“That’s what I thought.”
The blond plucks me from my seat before walking us into the office at the end of the hall. I’m already in shock about the lack of muscle to his maneuver, so you can picture my surprise when my eyes lock on a familiar face. “Dr. Leonard.” He is my mother’s gynecologist.
Well, he was.
“Katie.” Dr. Leonard swallows harshly before shifting his eyes to the man seemingly running the show. “You can tell Henry he doesn’t need proof. She is who they are claiming. She is the spitting image of her mother. A Petrov through and through.”
I don’t get the chance to ask who the hell the Petrovs are. The nameless goon speaks before I can, “The child’s paternity is in question as well. We’ve heard from numerous sources she is not carrying his son.”
Worry fills Dr. Leonard’s eyes when he asks, “How far along are you?”
I shrug, but the goon appears more informed than me. “Seven months, give or take a week or two.”
As Dr. Leonard stares at my stomach, he warns, “It can be risky doing an amnio at this stage of pregnancy. We usually suggest waiting until after the child is born.”
“We can’t do that. The Bobrovs are reforming under injunctions they’re not entitled to if the lineage is not accurate.”
“And you believe it isn’t?”
“We don’t know,” the man replies, glaring at Dr. Leonard, unappreciative of his line of questioning. “That is why we are here.”
Either oblivious to the man’s anger or unthreatened by it, Dr. Leonard swings his eyes to mine and asks, “Do you want an amniocentesis to determine the paternity of your child?”
“She doesn’t have a choice.”
Dr. Leonard cuts off the stranger’s snarl with a glare before muttering, “She does with me.” He steps closer to the blond, his height suddenly appearing double. “You do not run the show around here. Neither do the Petrovs. Not anymore.”
“Henry—”
“Leaves the approvals of this town to one man.” In the most macho of showdowns, Dr. Leonard spits out, “He is not you.” When the man says nothing, Dr. Leonard returns his focus to me. “Do you approve to have an amniocentesis, Katie?”
I wish my voice was stronger when I ask, “What is it?” Regretfully, it is what it is. I’ve sunk back to the scared, cowardly captive I was before Alek marched me out of Master Rudd’s compound.
It has kept Lera and me alive over the past few months.
Dr. Leonard wheels an ultrasound machine closer to the bed decked out with sterile paper and those dreaded blue underpads every gynecologist uses. “After administrating local anesthetic, a thin plastic needle is inserted through your abdomen to collect amniotic fluid.”
“Which will tell you the paternity of my child?” The ‘my’ part of my statement feels weird to say. The tiny curve in the bottom of my stomach has always been referred to as Kirill’s. I’ve not felt any connection to it whatsoever.
Not even now.
“Yes. It is a relatively quick and painless procedure, but there are some complications.”
My voice tremors when I ask, “Such as?”
Dr. Leonard’s tongue clicks on his teeth before he replies, “Such as placental abruption, premature labor—”
“Death,” I interrupt.
He believes I am referencing the baby. I’m not. I am talking about my demise that will occur within minutes of his arrival. “The odds are low, Katie, but still present.”
“Then I don’t want it.”
As much as it frustrates me, I still want to live. If not for myself, for Lera. She needs somebody on her team, and at the moment, that person is not her mother.
“Then you don’t have to have it.” Ignoring the stranger’s deep growl, Dr. Leonard steps closer to me. “But do you mind if I take a look?” I must balk because he is quick to free me from worry that he is going to poke and prod me like I was during months of inseminations. “Not down there. With the ultrasound machine.” He looks more fretful about his next comment than worried. “Your stomach is very small for your gestation.”