I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the small, plastic device. If Valentin found this—if he even suspected that Ayo had slipped me a lifeline—the "mercy" I'd been granted would be replaced by a shallow grave. My thumb hovered over the screen. Call? Ignore? Destroy it? I didn't want trouble. I never wanted trouble. But trouble had a way of finding me.
For a fleeting, weak second, I thought about just giving in. I could play the part. I could be the "baby machine" Valentin wanted, feeding his obsession with heirs just to keep my children safe. But the thought made my stomach churn with a violence that had nothing to do with my pregnancy.
No. I was a survivor. I had survived the streets. I had spent my entire life crawling out of the dark, and I wouldn't let Valentin Von Stein dim my light now. I wouldn't let him take the place of a father in my children's lives, and I certainly wouldn't let him turn me into a breeding vessel for his twisted empire.
