Page 139 of Sexting His Assistant

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you and I know both know I’m not the father.”

“You can’t just dismiss me,” she pleads.

“I’m not dismissing you. I’m asking why you’re lying.”

She goes very still.

The waiter approaches with bread. I look at him once, and he changes direction.

“I think someone told you what to say and gave you enough details to make it sound possible.”

Her eyes widen. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?”

She looks away toward the window. I follow her gaze without moving my head.

A man stands across the street near a jewelry store, pretending to look at his phone. Grey linen jacket. Sunglasses.

So, she’s being watched.

I lean back and soften my tone. “Alina, listen carefully. If there’s a child, the child will be supported. Medical care, privacy, security. I will not let anyone hurt a pregnant woman.”

Her shoulders loosen a little.

Then I add, “But I also will not let anyone use a child to threaten me.”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “I’m not threatening you.”

“No. You are delivering someone else’s threat.”

Her lips part. She says nothing.

I take a card from my inside pocket and place it on the table.

“My doctor. You will see him today.”

“I have my own doctor.”

“Not anymore.”

Her face hardens. “You can’t force me.”

“No,” I say. “I cannot.”

She exhales like she has won something.

I keep my eyes on hers. “But if you refuse, I will assume you don’t want the truth documented. Then my lawyers will treat this as fraud, extortion, and attempted reputational damage. Every message you sent, every call you made, every person you met before coming to my office will be pulled apart.”

Her hand tightens around the glass.

“And Alina,” I say quietly, “if Roman Karpov is involved, my patience becomes much shorter.”

The color drains from her face.