CHAPTER 2 – The Pieces He Was Never Meant to See
CHAPTER 2 – The Pieces He Was Never Meant to See
"Don't."
Iris's voice cracked across the flower shop like the snap of a branch.
But Nikolai Voss had already gathered three tiny pieces of white paper into his palm.
At first they meant nothing.
A gray blur.
A curved black line.
Then another fragment.
...Gestational Age: 6 Weeks...
His fingers froze.
The entire room seemed to lose its sound.
The humming refrigerator disappeared.
The traffic outside vanished.
Only Iris's breathing remained.
Slow.
Uneven.
Like someone waiting for a verdict.
He carefully placed the first piece on the counter beside another.
Then another.
"...Patient..."
Another fragment.
"...Beaumont..."
His heart struck once against his ribs.
Hard enough to hurt.
"Iris..."
She stepped around the counter.
"Give them back."
"I asked you a question."
"They're garbage."
"No."
His voice had changed.
The warm stranger from the rainstorm was gone.
The man standing in front of her now was the one newspapers called dangerous.
The one politicians avoided.
The one judges never crossed.
His eyes stayed fixed on the shredded ultrasound.
"These aren't garbage."
Camille instinctively moved beside Iris.
"Sir, I think you should leave."
Without looking away from Iris, Nikolai said quietly,
"I wasn't speaking to you."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Delia swallowed.
Priya gripped Camille's arm.
Something about the calmness in his voice frightened them more than shouting ever could.
Nikolai picked up another torn piece.
"...Estimated Due..."
Another.
"...Heartbeat..."
His breathing stopped.
Heartbeat.
Pregnancy.
Six weeks.
Exactly six weeks.
Exactly the length of time since the storm.
His mind raced backward.
The rain.
The tea.
The laughter.
The tiny apartment above the flower shop where they'd escaped the thunder.
The way she had smiled the next morning before he left.
He had almost come back.
Almost.
Instead, his father had called.
Celeste Renard's family had demanded the wedding be moved forward.
The alliance couldn't wait.
Business before everything.
Always business.
His jaw tightened.
"Iris."
She refused to meet his eyes.
"Look at me."
"No."
"I said—"
"I heard you."
For the first time, she looked directly at him.
There were tears.
Not falling.
Simply waiting.
"I know exactly who you are now."
Silence.
"I know you're getting married tomorrow."
Another silence.
"So congratulations."
Each word landed like broken glass.
"You should go."
Nikolai stared at her.
"I didn't know."
She laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
"Of course you didn't."
"You never told me."
"I didn't know until today!"
She slammed both palms against the counter.
Flowers trembled inside their buckets.
"I walked out of the clinic less than an hour ago!"
The confession hung between them.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
"I was trying to figure out how to raise a baby whose father belongs to another woman."
Camille closed her eyes.
Delia quietly began crying.
Even Priya, who had promised herself not to get emotionally involved, felt tears burn behind her eyelids.
Nikolai didn't move.
His gaze slowly drifted to the shredded ultrasound again.
"You cut it."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because that's easier than believing in impossible things."
He looked back at her.
"You thought I wouldn't care?"
"I know you can't."
Another laugh.
Even colder.
"You're marrying someone else in less than twenty-four hours."
Nikolai's phone vibrated.
He ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Again.
Finally he glanced at the screen.
Father.
Then—
Celeste.
Then—
Victor Voss — URGENT.
He silenced every call.
"Iris."
"Don't."
"If that baby is mine—"
"It is."
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
She knew.
The room became impossibly still.
Nikolai felt something shift inside him.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Responsibility.
Absolute.
Instant.
The same instinct that had kept him alive since he was nineteen.
Protect what belongs to you.
No matter the cost.
He reached into his jacket.
Camille immediately stepped forward.
"What are you doing?"
Instead of a weapon, he removed a small velvet box.
Inside was a platinum family ring engraved with the Voss crest.
The ring every firstborn heir carried.
Not for marriage.
For promises.
He set it gently on the counter.
"I don't ask people to trust me."
His eyes never left Iris's.
"But I'm asking you."
She stared at the ring.
Then back at him.
"You've known me for one night."
"I've thought about that night every day since."
She almost laughed again.
Almost.
"You should have thought harder before agreeing to marry Celeste Renard."
His expression darkened.
"I never wanted Celeste."
Before Iris could answer—
The front windows exploded.
CRASH!
Glass showered across the shop.
Customers outside screamed.
A black SUV had stopped sideways across the street.
Five armed men poured out.
Masks.
Automatic rifles.
One of them shouted,
"Take Voss alive!"
Another pointed directly toward Iris.
"And kill the woman!"
Camille screamed.
Delia dropped to the floor.
Priya grabbed Iris's arm.
Nikolai moved before anyone else could breathe.
He vaulted over the counter.
Wrapped one arm around Iris's waist.
Dragged her behind the concrete support wall just as—
RATATATATAT!
Bullets ripped through the flower displays.
White roses exploded into clouds of petals.
Glass vases shattered.
Buckets overturned.
Water flooded the floor, mixing with blood-red carnations.
Nikolai shielded Iris with his own body.
She felt his heartbeat hammering against her cheek.
Fast.
Controlled.
Terrifyingly calm.
His hand slipped beneath his jacket.
This time—
He pulled out a black pistol.
Loaded.
Ready.
His voice became ice.
"They found me."
Another burst of gunfire shattered the storefront.
Outside, tires screamed.
More black vehicles arrived.
Men in tailored suits jumped out with assault rifles.
The Voss security team.
The flower shop had become a battlefield.
Nikolai looked down at Iris.
Then, almost instinctively...
His hand rested for a single second on her still-flat stomach.
His eyes hardened with lethal resolve.
May you like
"No one," he whispered,
"...touches my child."
