Pregnant For My Brother-in-Law

Chapter 3

The Contingency is Compromised

Mikhail Pov

The view from the 80th floor of Ivanov Industries is nothing but cold logic. I am staring at the cityscape, not seeing the buildings, but the spreadsheets they represent. It is two days after the Martinez engagement fiasco.

I close the latest quarterly report, the heavy binder thudding against the table. My jaw is tight. The merger timeline with Martinez Holdings is aggressive, dictated entirely by my father’s arbitrary demands for a swift wedding.

The door to my office opens without a knock. It is Marco, my chief of security and oldest friend. He moves with the quiet efficiency of a man who sees threats everywhere.

“You need to eat something, Mikhail,” Marco says, placing a black coffee and a protein bar on my desk.

“I am fine. Are the final contracts for the Shanghai acquisition ready?” I ask, already pushing the food away.

“They are ready. But we need to discuss the surveillance footage from the engagement party,” Marco insists.

My irritation spikes. “I don’t pay you to review party footage, Marco. Is there a security breach?”

Marco leans against the desk, his arms crossed. He knows me too well to back down. “Not a breach. The private powder room footage. Are you aware that the door was locked for approximately ninety seconds?”

I feel a hot, unwelcome surge of heat behind my neck. Elena. The brief, violent, idiotic clash. I dismiss it with a contemptuous wave of my hand.

“An accident. The girl stumbled. She is clumsy,” I say, focusing my attention back on the contract clauses. “It is meaningless. Don’t waste resources on it.”

“Meaningless, perhaps. But the clumsy girl is your fiancée’s sister, and the incident was observed by a few guests near the library entrance. I have ensured the rumors are contained, but you need to be mindful, Mikhail. The Martinez family is already watching for signs of weakness.”

Weakness. The word is a sharp knife to my ego. That kiss was a moment of weakness, a momentary lapse of professional control, fueled by her unexpected insolence.

She is volatile. That’s the core difference. Sofia is ice and perfect compliance, predictable, manageable. She accepts the path laid out for her. But Elena… Elena fights back, even when she knows she will lose. She stood there in the private room and challenged my authority over her house. Her eyes blazed.

She is not a quiet shadow. She is a spark waiting for a match.

I look at the wedding band waiting in the safe. “The only thing that matters is the alliance. I am marrying Sofia. My father will have his political legacy, and I will have the consolidated market share. End of discussion. I am not going to compromise a billion-dollar deal over a crush’s dramatic exit.”

“Very well,” Marco says, pushing off the desk. He knows when to take his leave. “I will finalize the security report. Let me know when you want the car for the pre-nuptial meeting.”

He exits. I take a long, cold sip of coffee. The coffee tastes like the kiss, bitter, sharp, and over too quickly. I regret the loss of control, not the act itself. The heat of her mouth against mine is a persistent, unwelcome memory. Focus. Sofia. Alliance. Control.

The double doors burst open. It is not a quiet entry. Sofia rushes in, not slowly, but charging. She is pale beneath her carefully applied makeup, and her expensive silk dress is visibly wrinkled. She is entirely uncomposed, something I have never witnessed.

“Sofia? What is this? I am in the middle of a critical review,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

She slams a glossy magazine down on the reports, scattering papers. It is a society page, featuring a stylized photo of us from the engagement party. She is practically vibrating with uncontrolled fury.

“Don’t you dare dismiss me, Mikhail! You have ruined everything! Everything!” she screams.

I stand up, towering over her. “Lower your voice. Explain yourself. Now.”

She throws her hands up, clutching her own hair. “The clinic! The Artemis Institute! The procedure was supposed to secure my place, to give your father what he wants and tie you to me forever!”

“It will,” I state firmly. “You went last week. The doctor assured me the viability rate is high. Are you not pregnant?”

Sofia lets out a raw, hysterical laugh that echoes in the silent office. “Am I not pregnant? Oh, I am not. But someone is! And it is your child, Mikhail! Your specimen!”

My blood runs cold. “What? Are you fabricating this? The procedure was confirmed, Sofia. You were in the prep room.”

“I was! But the doctor, that imbecile, that overworked, cheap little doctor, she made a mistake! A massive, unforgivable mistake! A mix-up!”

Her voice drops to a venomous hiss, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “The fertility specimen, the one you gave, it wasn’t administered to me, Mikhail. It was administered to her. To Elena!”

The air snaps. The noise of the city, the demands of the merger, the faint memory of a stolen kiss, all dissolve. Only her words remain, echoing off the glass walls.

“Stop talking,” I command. My voice is utterly flat, the sudden, terrifying calm before a disaster.

“No! I won’t stop! She is pregnant, Mikhail! That b***h, that clumsy distraction, she was meant to be your f*****g sister in-law! She is carrying the Ivanov heir! She sabotaged me! She must have known! She was there at the clinic, I saw her! That manipulative, two-faced little liar!” Sofia spits the words out.

I close my eyes, processing the impossible reality. The clinic. The quiet procedure meant for just Sofia. The fact that Elena was at Artemis the same day.

Impossible. A mistake of that magnitude?

I open my eyes. Sofia is still raging, collapsing onto a leather chair, sobbing ugly, panicked tears.

“Why was she there?” I demand, leaning over her, the controlled beast finally unleashed.

“I don’t know! An infection! Something disgusting, probably! But she must have planned it! She wants to steal everything, Mikhail! She took her mother’s life, and now she wants my future! You have to destroy her! You have to force the reversal! You have to tell your father it is a lie!”

I turn away from Sofia’s pathetic display. I walk to the window, staring out at the empire I built on ruthlessness and precision.

The Ivanov heir is growing inside Elena Martinez.

The woman I treat like a child, the woman who clashed with me two nights ago, the woman whose defiant spirit I mistook for a minor, manageable nuisance.

The consequences are irreversible and uncontrollable. My father will explode. The alliance will fracture. Everything I planned for will be destroyed by just one little girl.

I slam my fist onto the glass. The glass trembles, but holds.

“Get out, Sofia,” I say, commanding in a deep, guttural roar. “Get out of my sight. Now.”

She runs, her panicked whimpers fading as the door slams shut.

I stare at the city, seeing nothing but the ruined architecture of my perfectly laid plans. I am tied to Elena. The unwanted girl. And the kiss... it was not an end to the tension, but the catastrophic beginning.

I’m so f****d up.