Page 76 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

My hand drifted to my stomach. Still flat. Nothing unusual. But I knew—if my suspicion was right, there might be a tiny life growing inside.

"Three twenty-one."

My number flashed on the screen.

I shot up. My legs nearly gave out. I gripped the wall, took a few deep breaths, and forced myself toward the exam room.

I pushed the door open. Even stronger disinfectant hit me. A female doctor sat at her computer, not looking up.

"Sit. What's wrong?"

"I—" My voice stuck. "I need a test."

"What kind of test?" She finally looked up, studying me over her glasses.

"Pregnancy." I barely whispered it.

Her expression didn't change. Probably nothing new to her.

"How late is your period?"

"Almost two weeks."

"Nausea? Vomiting? Fatigue?"

"All of it."

She typed something, printed a form, and handed it to me.

"Blood draw. Come back in thirty minutes for the results."

I took the paper. My fingers shook. "Blood HCG Test" burned into my eyes.

The blood draw room had a long line. I stood at the back, watching people go in and come out. Some looked blank. Some anxious. One young couple smiled and chatted about something.

When my turn came, the nurse stuck a needle in my arm with practiced ease. Red blood flowed through the tube. She labeled it.

"Thirty minutes. Come back for results."

Those thirty minutes felt like thirty years.

I paced the hallway. My phone screen lit up and darkened, darkened and lit up. I wanted to call Evelyn, but hesitated with my finger over her name. If I really was pregnant, how could I tell her? Her health had just improved. I couldn't make her worry again.

At the end of the hallway, night had fallen over New York. Neon lights flickered on one by one. This city never stopped for anyone's joy or sorrow.

"Three twenty-one, report ready for three twenty-one."

The announcement came. I practically ran to the pickup window.

"Sign here." The clerk handed me a manila envelope.

I signed with trembling hands and took the thin envelope. It weighed nothing, but pressed on my chest like a thousand-pound stone.

I didn't have the courage to open it there. I carried it back to the exam room and handed it to the doctor.

She pulled out the report, scanned it, then looked up with a professional smile.

"Congratulations. You're pregnant."