Chapter 146
Maksim
I try to stand up, leaning on the crutches, but my arms shake and I collapse back onto the hospital bed. My pride takes the biggest hit. I glare at the strange, stubby shape that's now my left leg. No foot. Just… an awkward stump wrapped in gauze. It still feels unreal.
"Maybe you should listen to the doctors," a voice drawls from the doorway.
I look up and see my ex-boss—current menace—Ivan Vale, strolling in like he owns the place. He's carrying a wicker basket that's probably more expensive than anything I own. Figures.
"What do they know? I know my body best," I grumble.
He doesn't even answer, just plops into the guest chair, crosses his legs like some smug magazine model, and starts unpacking fruit. He peels an orange with lazy grace.
"What are you doing here?" I ask suspiciously.
"Visiting you, Maksim," he says sweetly, as if that explains anything.
"Why?"
"Do you not want me here?" His green eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips trembling like he's on the verge of crying.
I look away before I get sucked in by his manipulative omega nonsense. I've known him long enough to recognize the act. Doesn't mean I'm immune. Damn it.
He snickers. Caught me again.
"You should have pursued acting," I mutter.
"I know. I'm so talented," he says with zero shame.
I sigh.
"So why weren't you listening to your doctors? Rest, build your strength, follow instructions. Pretty basic."
He narrows his eyes at me, and I avoid his gaze once more.
"Clearly they're not doing a good job here either. Which is why you'll be coming home. It's high time you met your godchild. She's no longer the ugly little rat she was at birth—my genes pulled through, like I knew they would."
Wait.
What?
"Home? Godchild? What the hell are you talking about?" I blink, trying to process the rapid-fire insanity.
"You heard me." He pops an orange slice into his mouth like we're discussing the weather.
"What godchild? Nia?" I ask carefully.
"Do you have other godchildren?" he deadpans.
"I don't have any godchildren," I insist.
"Not possible. What would that make my daughter, then?"
I stare at him dumbfounded. "I did not consent to this...Nor was I asked."
"Too late. It's already on all the documents. Wills, guardianship papers, emergency contacts for Nia—your name's everywhere." He says it with the casual pride of a man who just bought a new car.
"Change it!" I bark.
"Why?"
"Because I did not agree to this!"
"But it's already done," he says in that infuriatingly childish tone.
"I don't care. Change it."
"I don't wanna," Ivan says, lips jutting in a pout. He sounds like an overgrown toddler.
"You shouldn't make major decisions without thinking them through," I snap, trying to inject reason into this circus.
He blinks at me. Slowly. Then his lashes flutter. And the tears come. Big, fat omega tears welling up, his face crumpling into tragedy.
"No. No. Don't you dare—" I start.
Too late. He's full-on sobbing now, dramatic hiccups and all.
A couple of passing nurses glance inside, shaking their heads at me like I'm a monster for making the pretty omega cry.
"Stop crying," I beg, but he only cries harder, clutching the basket like a wounded saint.
"Okay, okay! Fine," I sigh in defeat.
He peeks at me through wet lashes. "You agree?" he sniffles.
"…"
He starts sobbing louder. I swear the walls vibrate.
"I agree!" I shout, throwing my hands up. Anything to make the wailing stop.
Instantly, the tears vanish. He beams, smug and glowing with victory. "Great! Knew you'd come around."
I stare at him, a deep sense of doom settling in my bones. I've been scammed. Again.
***
Ivan
I slide into the passenger seat where Zander is already waiting, his sharp profile lit by the streetlights.
"He fell for it, didn't he?" Zander asks without even looking at me, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.
I can't help the smug little smile that curls at mine. "Of course he did."
Zander exhales a laugh and starts the engine. "He's always been weak to tears. Nia's going to eat him alive and spit him out."
"She'll rule him by the time she's walking," I agree proudly. Maksim has no idea what's coming.
Zander chuckles, the sound deep and warm, like velvet. "Now, may we finally go on our date, my manipulative prince?"
"Of course."
Harry and Mason are back at our place babysitting—Harry has a role coming up as a single dad, and I generously offered him "practical training." Mostly, it's an excuse to have a couple of uninterrupted hours with my husband. We still haven't found a nanny we fully trust, so childcare has been all us. It's been months since we've done anything… honestly, over a year if you count the months I spent bedbound recovering from the explosion.
As Zander drives, my thoughts wander exactly where his are. I notice his fingers tighten around the steering wheel; that tiny giveaway makes my lips curve. We're thinking the same thing.
"Do we really have to go for the date?" I murmur, tilting my head to look at him.
"It's just food."
His knuckles whiten slightly on the wheel. Oh yes, we're definitely thinking the same thing.
"Why don't we…" I lean closer, lowering my voice like I'm proposing something scandalous, "book a room for a couple of hours instead?"
Zander doesn't answer with words. The car jerks into a sharp turn, and I grab the handle, laughing breathlessly.
I'll take that as a very enthusiastic yes.