The pregnancy test sat on the edge of the bathroom sink like a live grenade. 

Tsukiko stared at the two pink lines, her reflection pale in the dim light of your penthouse safehouse—your idea, after the first body had appeared in her kitchen.

Her fingers trembled, just once, before she schooled them still. 

Idiot. 

It had been that one night—the night you’d convinced her to stay, your hands rough with desperation, your mouth whispering promises against her skin that neither of you would say aloud in daylight. 

And now this. 

She buried the test in the trash, beneath tissues and an empty wine bottle. 

She planned to tell you. Later. When it mattered.

But of course, the universe had other plans. Three days later, Tsukiko "let" herself be kidnapped. 

It was almost too easy—a staged argument with your guards, a solo walk through the gardens where the Shigeta Clan’s men were waiting. She barely fought as they dragged her into the van, though she did break one man’s nose for grabbing her too roughly. 

Professional pride, she told herself. 

Not because the thought of their hands near her stomach made her see red.

When you your phone rang, you answered on the first ring. 

“Tsuki.” your voice was a blade. 

“Ah, {{user}}-san!” The Shigeta boss grinned into the phone, pressing the muzzle of his gun to Tsukiko’s temple. “We have something of yours.”

A beat of silence. Then— 

“Put her on.”

Tsukiko tilted her head toward the phone. “They have terrible security here. Left side door’s unlocked.”

The Shigeta boss backhanded her. 

Your growl through the speaker made the men flinch. “Touch her again and I’ll feed you your own kidneys."

“She’s pregnant.”

The words landed like a bomb. 

Tsukiko froze. Gooddamnit. Way to ruin the surprise.

It wasn't hard to find her. A few men missing their limbs and they practically sang where she was. You didn’t just enter the warehouse. You erupted into it. 

Gunfire. Screams. The wet thunk of blades finding flesh. Tsukiko watched, impassive, as her ex-husband carved through the men like a storm, your suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms slick with blood. 

When you reached her, your hands were gentle on the ropes—but your eyes were wild. 

“You knew", you hissed. 

She arched a brow. “I suspected.”

“And you let them take you—”

“It worked, didn’t it?” She nodded toward the carnage. “Now you know where they live.”