Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Nothing like that,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m… fuck, I don’t even know how to say this.”
“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” She laughs, but she immediately sobers up when she sees my face. “Shit, Mari, seriously?”
“I took two tests this afternoon,” I say. “Both of them were positive.”
She falls back on the couch, shock evident on her face. “There’s no chance they were false positives?”
“You’re the nurse, you tell me,” I quip.
She just nods and looks at her hands, thinking.
“I’m late,” I continue. “Only a week, but it’s enough. I’m on the pill, but I know that’s not one hundred percent…” I trail off.
She squeezes my hand. “Okay. Okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“I haven’t told him,” I say.
“That’s okay.” She nods. “You just found out. You need to get it confirmed before you go to him. Are you going to keep it?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I can’t tell him, Suze. I just can’t.”
“You have to, Mari,” she says gently. “He’s the father. He has a right to know.”
“He’ll think I did it on purpose,” I say, voicing my biggest concern. The words taste like tin. “He’ll go cold. He’ll ‘protocol’ me into a room with no windows and call it protection. Any freedom I have now will be gone.”
“He could surprise you,” she says, ever the optimist.
“He won’t,” I respond, completely certain. “He’s not a good guy, Susie. He’s dangerous. His anger is dangerous.”
“What are you going to do?” she whispers.
“I think I have to run,” I say, going cold. “I think I have to get away from him and disappear.”
“Do you think that will work?” she asks skeptically. “He doesn’t seem to be lacking any resources. If you run away, he’ll move heaven and earth to find you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, making up my mind with every word. “I can’t stay. You can only hide a pregnancy for so long.”
“Mari,” she says firmly. “Think about what you’re saying. You’re going to, what? Disappear in the middle of the night with no money and no resources and go where?”
“I’ll figure it out.” I shrug. “I’m scrappy. I’ve done it before.”
“You haven’t done this before.” She shakes her head. She stands up, going into crisis control mode. “You need to see a doctor and confirm the pregnancy first. Find out what you need to keep yourself and the baby healthy.”
I nod, realizing the wisdom in her advice. I don’t know anything about being pregnant. I should see a doctor and find out everything I can.
“I can try,” I say, and I hear how thin that sounds. “It’ll be hard to visit an OB-GYN without putting him on alert.”
“Just tell him you’re going to a doctor’s appointment. My gynecologist is part of the hospital. Nobody has to know who you’re seeing in the building.”
“Okay.” I nod again. “I’ll see a doctor and make a plan.”
“Yes, planning is everything,” she agrees. “If you’re going to do this, at least know where you’re going and have some money in place. I would be a wreck thinking of you out in the world with no help.”
“You’re not going to try to talk me out of this?” I ask, wary.
“Who are you talking to?” She laughs. “I know you better than anyone, and I know how stubborn you can be when your mind is made up. I won’t stand in your way, but I want to know you’re safe.”
I lean in and hug her hard, grateful that someone is on my side. No matter what happens next, I’ll need her support.
14
LEV
Inotice it a week later. Mari’s paler. She moves with careful precision, slower to meet my eyes. In the time she’s been staying with me, she hasn’t once hidden her moods or her displeasure.
Suddenly, she’s clammed up.
She keeps her door closed and answers with one-word replies. She dodges whichever elevator I’m in and takes the stairs. She used to fight every guard detail I assigned. Now she lets them hover. It’s the compliance that sets off alarms.
At the penthouse, she times her exits. If I walk into the kitchen, she remembers something in her room. If I sit at the table, she eats at the counter with her back to me. When I ask how she slept, she says “fine” then walks away. She has tabs all over a ledger she’s re-auditing. She flips them like worry beads.
I’ve seen this pattern in others before. People go quiet when they’re planning to do something stupid. When they’re loud and boisterous, I know they’re full of shit. It’s when they go silent on me that I start to worry.
On Tuesday, Yuri sends me screenshots he’s pulled from her computer. She’s looking at job boards, remote roles out of state, apartment searches in Chicago and Austin. I tell him to widen coverage on her devices. He replies with the single dot that means it’s handled.