Bratva Boss’s Secret Triplets by Bella King
Chapter 27
April
As I wake up, the sleep in my eyes tempts me to lie back down and rest for another three hours. Last night took a lot out of me, and I hardly did anything. All I had to do was lie there and take it, which I did gladly.
When I’m finally able to blink myself awake, I notice a small stack of clean, folded clothes at the foot of my bed. I know they aren’t mine, so Rebel must have had them sent. As much as I hate asking for handouts, having a man who will buy me clothes is a nice change. Nobody has ever done that for me before.
I slip out of bed and examine the clothes. The shirt and pants are both designer brands that I never thought I would see or touch in real life, almost like I’m unworthy to do so. When I pull the shirt over my shoulders, it fits me perfectly, even though my breasts have gotten too big for all my other clothes. The pants fit just as well, and I feel lucky that I’m not showing. Soon they won’t fit, and then I’m really going to be in trouble.
Wearing these clothes almost makes me sad to have to wear my other clothes eventually. In comparison, they feel so cheap and poorly-made, too tight in some areas and too loose in others. In these clothes, I feel like a whole person. No wonder people with money seem to be intrinsically happier than the average, unwashed poor person.
I’ve been thinking about how I need to see my doctor soon, but I got a notification that the clinic had been bombed to rubble overnight and there were casualties. As much as I hurt for the families of those who lost someone in the bombing or their jobs, I’m also scared to have to reestablish myself with another doctor.
I’ve decided to spend the day looking around for a new doctor, hopefully somebody who specializes in multiple births. Dr. Ryan seemed confident enough, but having triplets is nothing to joke about. I’ve heard of women having multiple babies at once, and their uterus falls out of their vagina regularly or disintegrates completely after a cesarean section.
As I walk down the hallway, the only person I’m able to find is Damien, who looks like he himself is on his way out the door. “Hey, where are you going?” he asks me, suddenly acting cagey and defensive.
“Oh, I’m just going to see my doctor,” I reply. I’m not lying, and it’s really none of his business what he’s doing. Rebel may be supervising me in some way, but Damien is just here. That doesn’t make me his problem.
“Rebel’s gone, you should probably stay here until he gets back. Actually, I’m gonna make sure you don’t leave, because if something happens to you and I was the last person to see you, it’s my ass,” he says, turning fully to face me.
“Well, I need to see a doctor regardless,” I say, proud of myself for standing up for my needs instead of withering at the first sign of opposition.
“We have a doctor here, and you don’t have to pay for him since Rebel pays him directly. No insurance or anything like that,” he says as he turns to leave again.
“Okay, can you at least bring me to Dr. Paul’s office so I don’t get lost on my way there? This place is huge,” I say, embarrassed to be asking this total stranger to lead me around like a child. He shrugs and drops the bag he was carrying, which makes a heavy thud as it falls.
After he’s brought me to Dr. Paul’s office, he gives me a faint smile and walks away without a word. He’s a strange guy, but he seems genuine at least. I knock on the door, at first not expecting a response at all given the way my luck has been going. I’m surprised to get an almost immediate response.
“Hello April! It’s nice to see you again, at least hopefully under different circumstances,” he says cheerfully as he leads me toward the examination bed. “Is everything alright?” he asks, examining me briefly with his eyes before I climb onto the bed.
“Yeah, I just want to make sure I’m alright. I’ve got some family health issues, and stress can bring them on or make them worse,” I lie. I figure he can’t just tell when a woman is pregnant, so I’m hoping he’ll just give me a standard exam and tell me I’m perfectly healthy and possibly overreacting to my surrounding circumstances.
Though, he does seem too smart for that.
As I glance around the room, I’m shocked to see how clean and modern everything appears. It’s the kind of healthcare setting I expect in countries like Switzerland, places where people don’t die of preventable causes.
I immediately feel safer, lying back on the bed automatically without getting tense or needing to be prompted.
“So, what’s bothering you lately? Are you having any abdominal pain? Anxiety attacks?” he begins, maintaining an appropriate distance from me.
“It’s abdominal pain. I think I might be developing an ulcer,” I lie again. What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe he’ll give me a medication to take for my fake ulcer and tell me I’m perfectly fine otherwise.
“Oh, well, if it is an ulcer, I might need you to find a gastroenterologist and make an appointment for a gastroscopy,” he replies, his face growing more concerned and less relaxed.
Fuck, that’s not what I want. I didn’t know ulcers needed that kind of treatment.
“Are you sure? Shouldn’t I just quit putting hot sauce on all my food?” I ask as convincingly as I can.
“I mean, it would be a good place to start I guess, but if an ulcer goes untreated, it can perforate and cause you to go septic. That’s a really big deal,” he responds. “That’s the kind of thing that can kill you, or at least give you a nasty infection that’s nearly impossible to get rid of.”
Ironically, the conversation at hand makes me feel like I’m actually developing an ulcer. Having been nearly caught in a lie by someone I definitely should not be lying to, I can feel the telltale sign of vomiting tempting my stomach as my mouth fills with saliva.
Is it nerves? The babies? The food from last night?
Either way, I need a fucking break from puking all the time. It’s getting harder to conceal.
“I’m under the impression that maybe something else is bothering you,” Dr. Paul says, growing more concerned. I’m ready to start panicking. How can I tell Rebel’s own personal doctor that I’m pregnant without him finding out?
Dr. Paul seems like a good guy, but he’s literally being bought by Rebel. I doubt that kind of thing would warrant much patient-doctor confidentiality on my part.
“It’s just… I don’t really know how to say it,” I begin, praying that he’ll just drop it and examine me like I’m a standard, non-pregnant patient.
“Do you feel unsafe?” he asks, and for once I feel as if I can roll with his expectations.
“Well, of course I feel unsafe. Within a week, I’ve been almost kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend who was high on drugs, then I was brought to a secret mafia compound where I’m not allowed to leave, and then I watched a man kill said ex-boyfriend in front of my eyes. I’m definitely not having a great time,” I reply.
His face doesn’t change.
He’s not buying it.
“I think there’s something else you need to tell me,” he says with warmth and sincerity that I haven’t yet experienced from anybody else around here.
I don’t know what to do. Maybe I just need to tell him and get this over with. I only pray that he doesn’t tell Rebel. I need this to be our secret, at least for now until I figure out if the babies are okay.
