BAD WIFE

Chapter {28}

The next morning, Nikolai was summoned to his parents' estate for what could only be described as a brunch-time ambush. The setting was deceiving—sunlight filtering through grand windows, the scent of rosemary scones in the air—but the tension was suffocating. His little sister had clearly spilled everything, and now he sat at a long, polished rectangular table, flanked by both of his older brothers, Alexander and Gabriel. His parents sat sternly at the ends, and Lola was posted directly across from him, her arms folded, eyes sharp.

The questions flew like daggers.

"How did this happen?"

"Who is she?"

"When did it start?"

"Why the secrecy?"

"Where did this all take place?"

"Why the hell didn't we know?"

He fielded each question with as much composure as he could muster, laying bare the truth piece by piece—the impulsive marriage, the eventual divorce, the child. But one final truth still lingered like a lump in his throat. They didn't know that yet.

He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, calmly folded it beside his plate, and exhaled.

"There's one more thing," he said.

His mother, already on edge, arched a brow. "What's that, dear?"

The delicate tremor in her voice told him she couldn't imagine it getting worse.

"You're going to be a grandma."

The silence that followed was instant and thunderous. His mother coughed violently, reaching for her cranberry juice to wash down the shock. She struggled to clear her throat.

"What?" she croaked.

The rest of the table froze mid-chew. Gabriel's fork hovered inches from his mouth. Alexander's jaw went slack. Lola dropped her utensil entirely, the loud clatter of it smacking the porcelain sounding like a gunshot.

"Baylee is carrying my child," he said, voice steady despite the knot twisting in his gut. He stared down at his plate, stabbing another bite of food to avoid their gazes.

"You can't be serious..." Lola hissed.

"Tell me you're joking," his father demanded, his voice sharp with disbelief.

"I'm not."

Gabriel leaned forward. "So, you got a test done?"

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know it's yours?" Lola snapped, already seething.

He finally lifted his eyes to hers. "I slept with her." He nodded firmly, as if that settled it. "That's how I know."

"And I'm sure she's slept with a lot of other men too."

His hands curled into fists beneath the table.

"How hard is it to just get a test done?" she pushed. "So that you can be sure. So we can be sure."

"She said it's mine."

"I can't believe how stupid you're being," she shot back. "You're just going to blindly trust her?"

"I know what I did, okay?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"But do you know what she did?"

His eyes rolled away, jaw locking.

"She's right," his mother agreed, calmly but with firm finality. "Just get the test done—for everyone's peace of mind."