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“Mama!” Sasha tugs on Erin. “Are you sad? Don’t be sad, Mama! Dino is mean. And the lady!”

“Boarding school,” Stefina snaps.

“Over my dead body,” Erin says.

Stefina smiles. “That can be arranged.”

“Stop it.” I swallow. “All of you.”

“As I said, message received.” And Erin scoops up Sasha, who hugs her tight.

Out of desperation, surrounded by seething women, I give my sister a silent plea of help.

Her lips press tight, but she nods and turns to Erin and Sasha. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

“But—”

“Now.” And not giving Erin a chance to say a word more, she drags her out the door.

My day’s just gone from bad to horrible and there’s more pain to come.

It’s not even ten a.m.

Fuck.

Chapter Eleven

ERIN

I waituntil we get to the café. I haven’t explored the neighborhood; of course I haven’t. The part we go to with Sasha is in a nice part of Chicago, and it’s a drive away. The last I saw of this neighborhood was when I ran.

I thought it was mansions and big houses and then a small suburban area backed onto the highway, but it isn’t.

The area’s lush and green and pretty, and when we turn right outside the gates, two guards walking with us which makes me think that Demyan has the entire area around the property staked out, because he doesn’t want to risk anything happening to his son, it’s a tiny mecca of cafés and shops.

But as we walk, at first with Sasha beside me and then in his stroller, I listen as Alina tells me about the hidden gem of this upper-class neighborhood.

And I wait.

She orders coffee and I order tea. The smells that should be welcoming turn my stomach.

But I wait.

When our drinks are served, I lean in.

“What did that bottle-blonde woman say about me?”

Alina plays with her coffee mug. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“It was just a Russian insult that’s hard to translate the meaning of. She’s a cow. And Demyan hates her.”

“He’s still marrying her, though.”

“No,” Alina says, “he’s going along with it until he can find a way out. It’s not the same.”

“What did she say?”