Page 129 of Toxic Attraction
The study is suffocating despite the open window. Air circulates, but doesn't reach my lungs. I pour vodka with hands that shake, drain the glass, pour again.
It’s confirmed: Valerie is pregnant. She is carrying my child.
I should be happy. Overjoyed. This is everything I lost coming back. A second chance. New life. Family. Hope.
Instead, I'm drowning in this crippling fear because of my past failure.
I failed to protect my first family, and I doubt I deserve a second. Failed to see Patrick's move coming a second time.
The motherfucker seems to always be two steps ahead.
I have failed in the most fundamental way a man can fail.
What if I fail again?
The thought is paralyzing. Valerie's pregnancy means vulnerability. Means nine months of her body changing,becoming slower, more fragile. Means a newborn after that, completely helpless, dependent on me not to fuck up.
And Patrick is still out there.
Wounded now. Vengeful. Rebuilding his forces. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
If he finds out Valerie is pregnant, she becomes the primary target. The baby becomes leverage. Everything becomes exponentially more dangerous.
How do I protect them? How do I ensure I don't fail like I did before?
I don't have answers. Just terror and the crushing weight of responsibility I'm not sure I should be carrying.
I keep drinking until the bottle is empty. Then, I pull out another one and continue drinking.
God, I want this second chance so badly that the desire is physically painful.
Want to see Valerie pregnant with my child. Want to feel the baby move under my hand. Want all the moments I took for granted with Katya.
Want to hold an infant again. Change diapers and lose sleep. Deal with midnight feedings and first smiles.
Want Mila to have a sibling.
Want to believe we can survive this. That love doesn't always end in blood and screaming.
But the fear is stronger.
Because wanting something means it can be taken away. Loving someone means they can die. Hope is just another word for potential devastation.
I learned that lesson brutally five years ago.
And now I'm supposed to forget it? Supposed to embrace vulnerability? Supposed to risk everything again?
I can't.
Except I already have. The baby exists whether I'm ready or not. Valerie is pregnant. The choice has been made.
Now I just have to figure out how not to fail them.
Dawn breaks. Light streams through the window, harsh and unforgiving.
I'm still at my desk. Still drinking. Still drowning in memories and fear.
The door opens without knocking. Mikhail. He takes one look at me and his expression shifts from professional to concerned.
