Page 52 of Bought to Bear Bratva Heir

The nurse stepped in first. A wide smile on her tanned face and a bundle swaddled in blue blankets held in her arms.

Blue!

My eyes locked to the little bundle. Blue meant boy. Did I have a son? My heart leapt in my chest as I jumped to my feet.

"Congratulations, Mr. Popovitch," she beamed up at me. "You have a son."

I reached for him without thinking, flicking back the corner of the blanket to reveal a bright red, screwed-up little face and a tiny fist that flailed around.

"I have a son?" His hand closed around the tip of my finger, and I felt a rush of emotion like I had never felt before. Tenderly, I took him from her, cradling him awkwardly in my arms. "Is he healthy?" He looked healthy. In fact, he looked perfect.

"He’s perfect," the nurse nodded. "As healthy as can be. Did you have a name for him?"

Daisy and I had discussed names. "Not yet. I am waiting to speak to Daisy first."

The smile on her face fell. Sympathy filled her eyes, and my stomach twisted.

"Where is Daisy?" My voice shook more and more with every word.

"Give the nurse the baby, Ilya." My grandfather appeared in the doorway. His face as troubled as the nurse's.

"No." I shook my head violently. "Where is Daisy? Can I see her?"

I didn’t know why, but my voice came out almost boyish. Like I was a little kid begging for something not to be true.

"At least sit."

I fell into the chair hard, but kept my son nestled in my arms. "What happened to her?" I could feel tears fill my eyes. "Is she dead?"

"Yes."

Surely God would not be this cruel. He wouldn’t make me unlovable and then give me someone like Daisy who could love me for me, only to snatch her away from me so soon.

We hadn’t had enough time with each other. I needed more time.

"How does that even happen? Women shouldn’t die in childbirth these days," I ranted.

"She didn’t die in childbirth, Ilya. Daisy was involved in a five-car pile-up on her way to the airport."

Confusion pinched my eyebrows together. I stared down at my son's face. There were drops of water on him, and I wiped them away with a gentle swipe of my thumb. My tears. My son's face was covered with my falling tears.

"I don’t understand," I began to say, but I did. Deep down I did. She had left me. That’s why I had stayed alone, panickingand worrying for half a day in this room, because she had headed to the airport as soon as she was able to move.

She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. That’s how little we meant to her.

Anger burned through my chest.

Daisy had never loved me; she had just made me love her so she could ruin me. If she wasn’t dead already, I would kill her with my own hands.

A sob ripped its way out of my throat, startling the sleeping baby awake.

Daisy was dead.

Slowly, I lifted my head to meet my grandfather's cold eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, son. I am sorry. I know you were beginning to care for her, but girls like that are not for men like you. She gave you the gift in your arms and left without a second thought for either of you. She didn’t want you, Ilya. And now she is dead."

I swallowed hard. Daisy had left me, and in the process, she had lost her life.