Page 20

The morning air was crisp and still, and the serenity before me was a kind that only came from being in a place that invoked a deep sense of nostalgia.

Two weeks had passed since Andrei and I tied the knot, and it still felt like it was yesterday. I couldn’t believe I’d gone from hating the mafia and despising Andrei’s existence to wearing his shiny diamond ring around my finger.

I was supposed to hate this, so why didn’t I? Why was I barely pretending to not like the fact that I was now married to the same man who should be my enemy and acting like I only accepted his proposal to avenge my father?

I glanced at the diamond rock sitting pretty on my ring finger and sighed. It was gorgeous, and I swore it must’ve cost a fortune, too. I loved it, and I loved that I was now a Yezhov, despite the pang of guilt in my chest.

What would Dad say if he were here? Would he have let me go ahead to marry a mafia enforcer, or would he have been against it? I couldn’t tell, to be honest.

I’d been struggling to make peace with Dad’s death, my marriage to Andrei, and finding the shipment for the last couple of days; it was the reason I asked to spend some time away in the vacation house Dad used to bring me when I was way younger.

The vacation house was on the outskirts of the city, far away from the buzzing noises and busy life of New York.

From my window, the ocean stretched endlessly, shimmering beneath the golden embrace of the morning sun, its rays spilling over the waves like liquid fire.

This place used to be a sanctuary for Dad. He’d spent a considerable amount of time here after his divorce with Mom, and I wondered if he knew that it would someday be my source of peace, too—a place where I’d come to reflect on the mess my life was like he used to do.

Or maybe he had other plans for me.

It was right here, in this very room, watching the sunset, that I’d drawn my very first painting.

The corners of my mouth lifted as memories from that day flooded into my mind. Dad had been very supportive, promising to get me more paints and brushes so that I could develop my artistic skills further.

Mom hadn’t liked it very much. She wanted me to get a degree first and then pursue whatever interest I had in painting. They argued for a while, and Dad ended up giving in to Mom’s demands.

That hadn’t stopped him from supporting my dreams, though. He invested in many art collections just so I could use them as inspiration to improve my painting skills.

I stepped away from the window and walked down to the basement, where Mom had packed away some of the things the last time she was here. I rummaged through the stack of old artworks I created when I was younger.

The stack was covered in dust and cobwebs, and some of the papers were already old and grey from age. The first painting I pulled out was one of Mom and Dad sitting together under the sunset on their tenth wedding anniversary. Dad had his arm wrapped around Mom, and she leaned against him with a wide smile.

The second painting was an eye—a grey eye. I still remembered the day I painted this very vividly. I’d gotten the inspiration from a portrait Dad brought home. It didn’t mean much to me then, but now that I thought about it, it looked weird.

It wasn’t just artwork; it resembled a secret message—one of those you’d find in sci-fi movies. Or perhaps I was overthinking it, and it wasn’t anything at all.

I hurried out from the basement to Dad’s room, where the painting hung above his bed.

His room still felt like he’d been here only recently and would walk in anytime to pick up his wallet. He always forgot to take it with him whenever he was going out.

His bed was neatly made from the last time he was here; his clothes were well folded except for his brown winter coat, which he always hung on the armrest of the recliner.

He was gone, but his presence lingered as if he was still here. As if he could come back at any time and hug me the way he used to.

I ambled over to the recliner and, picking up the coat, I inhaled it. It still had Dad’s signature musky leather scent on it. It still had his sweat stains and a packet of cigarettes he hadn’t touched in his pocket.

Tears flooded my vision, and my chest grew heavy.

I missed Dad. I missed him so much. It had been two months since he died, and a part of me was still hopeful it was all a lie. I had always seen how people faked their deaths in movies, and I wished he would come back and tell me it was all a fabrication—that he wasn’t really dead—but I knew that would never happen.

Bringing him back was impossible, but I was going to do everything to find the people who murdered him and make them pay.

That was a promise.

Dad, if you can hear me, I promise to make sure whoever did that to you is punished. It’s a promise from your little girl.

Hugging his coat and inhaling the scent that I’d missed so much, I laid down on his bed and cried myself to sleep.

***

It was already mid-afternoon by the time I woke up to my phone buzzing under the pillow.

I pulled it out and gasped when Mom’s number flashed on my screen. She was requesting to FaceTime me, and it was the first time since she’d left for Oregon.

My mother could always sense when something was wrong. She could for as long as I could remember.

Jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom, I quickly washed my face and dried it with a towel. I peered into the moon-shaped mirror on the wall for any signs that my eyes were swollen and sighed gratefully when it was only red from crying and sleeping.

Mom picked up on everything, but I could easily lie that I was just sleeping, and that wasn’t even exactly a lie.

There were already two missed calls from her when I returned to Dad’s bedroom and picked my phone up to call her back.

She answered on the first ring, flashing a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Her light brown eyes had sunken, and she had eyebags, probably from lack of sleep or crying, maybe both.

The shirt she wore had been given to her by Dad on what was supposed to be their anniversary a year ago. It usually fit her tightly, but now it appeared to be at least two sizes bigger than her.

Seeing her this way broke something inside me. I couldn’t bear how much she was suffering. Dad’s death affected her a great deal, and while she refused to admit it, I knew she was in so much pain from losing him.

I smiled so she wouldn’t see that I was sad, too. I didn’t want her to worry about me.

“Hi, Mom,” I greeted.

Her smile grew wider. “Hi, pumpkin.” She gave me a good stare and knitted her brows inquisitively. “I was afraid you’d look terrible from grieving, but you’re glowing.”

I chuckled and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Am I?”

She nodded. “I’m so happy to talk to you on Facetime. I’m happy you don’t look down, either. I was worried since you’re alone there, and I know you miss your father a lot.”

Honestly, if I didn’t have Andrei, then I would have probably been curled up in my apartment, refusing to eat or do anything. I’d never said it to him, but Dad’s death wasn’t pulling me down so much because I had him. He gave me something to channel my grief on, and I would forever be grateful to him for it.

“I know. There’s something I need to tell you, and I will, but when we meet. Okay?”

She pouted playfully. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because it’s not something we can discuss on the phone.” And I wanted to be there to see her reaction. I knew she was going to hate it when I broke the news to her because of how much she hated the Bratva, but I was married to Andrei already, and she wouldn’t have a choice but to accept him. Not that he would let me get a divorce even if I wanted it.

The only way our relationship was going to end was if he didn’t want me anymore, and Andrei didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be inconsistent enough to not want to own me for the rest of his life.

“Are you dating?” she asked. “Engaged?”

More like married, but I nodded. “Something close. It’s not anything bad, trust me.”

At least it wasn’t. If things remained like this, and I could find Dad’s murderers, I knew I would have a happy life with Andrei.

He was rich, so financial security wasn’t going to be a problem. He was protective and would tear the world apart to make sure I was safe. And he loved kids, so that was a plus.

Mom watched me with a genuine smile this time. “Do you love him?”

My heart skipped a beat, and my smile vanished. My chest fluttered, my entire body reacting to that question. “Love?”

I hadn’t given that a thought yet. I couldn’t answer that question.

To me, Andrei was my protector. He was someone who I smiled thinking of, someone I loved kissing and making love to. I’d never seen him unhappy, but I knew I would move mountains to not see him sad.

Simply put, he was everything to me. If that wasn’t love, then I had no idea what it was.

I breathed, “I don’t know, Mom. I think I like him.”

“Liking him is not enough, Giselle. You need to know for sure if you love this person,” she said softly. “Does he make you happy? Do you want to make him happy? Those are the questions you should ask yourself. See if you can envision yourself spending the rest of your life with this someone. Then you’ll have your answer.”

The answers to the questions were a solid yes. I didn’t need to think twice, but a part of me also didn’t want to accept that I was slowly falling in love with Andrei.

How did it even happen? When did he gain so much control over my heart? It felt like it was just yesterday that I met him in the cemetery, and now I’d already fallen for him.

“Is that your father’s vacation house?” Mom asked, her voice pulling me back to the present.

“It is. I needed some time alone, so I came over.” I grabbed Dad’s coat and raised it. “Mom, see?”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s your dad’s favorite winter jacket.”

“It is.” I placed the jacket on my leg and grinned. “It still smells like him. His boots are right where he used to keep them, and he still had a pack of cigarettes in the pocket waiting for winter.”

Mom laughed. It was hearty, filled with fond memories, and it was sweet to hear her laugh again. “You know, I always found it really weird how your father only smoked during winter. I found it even more weird that he always had a fresh pack of cigarettes sitting in his pocket.”

“Me, too.”

Mom and I spent the next thirty minutes talking about Dad. We spoke about his weird but funny habits and our fondest memories of him.

Somehow, Mom didn’t cry speaking of him, and I didn’t feel too sad either. The memories of his lifeless body lying on that table with a bullet in his head had blurred as we spoke of the life he lived.

Dad wasn’t just a memory in our minds.

He was the love we carried in our hearts; he was everything to us, and his existence was more real than real could get. That was how I wanted to remember him from now on because, with Andrei’s help, I was going to make sure his legacy would live on.

By the time we hung up, I had grown hungry and sleepy again. I pocketed my phone and rummaged through it for lunch ideas, eventually deciding on grilled wings with veggies.

Yawning, I sat up and ran my fingers through my tousled hair. My gaze flickered to the painting hanging above me.

I scoffed.

Shit, I’d almost forgotten the reason I came to this room to begin with, and I could have asked Mom. There was a chance she could know a thing or two about the message.

On the other hand, that could also put her in danger, and I wasn’t going to risk it.

Sighing, I narrowed my eyes on the painting, trying to think of any hidden clues that whoever created it could’ve been trying to pass, but none came to mind.

Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I scrolled to the last message I received from Dad and read it for the hundredth time. The typhoon’s eye holds the calm—Tyfun-1.

I replayed the words on a loop inside my head, hoping I would discover something, anything to give me a hint on where Dad could’ve hidden it, but still, I came up with nothing.

Lowering myself on the bed, I turned to my side, and suddenly, an idea came to my mind.

The lake house.

Dad and I used to go there because it was quiet and calm. The scenery was even more beautiful than it was here. I wondered if the message had anything to do with that house. Would I find anything helpful if I went there?

It didn’t make any sense yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, just in case.

Just as I picked up my phone to send a text to Andrei about visiting the lake house, I heard the screeching of tires outside.

I hurried to the window to see who it was. Only Andrei knew I was here. He’d placed four guards outside, yet he’d also instructed me to be on alert and call him if I suspected anything. After the whole showdown with Gavril, I knew better than not to take his warning seriously.

I still had nightmares from that day, but rather than my cries, it was Gavril’s screams I heard. I should’ve been terrified of Andrei—horrified that he could do that to a man. Instead, I found some comfort in knowing that he would never let anyone who hurt me get away with it.

Maybe I wasn’t all that good and innocent. Maybe I was just as dark and twisted as Andrei after all because a pig like Gavril got what was coming to him. Who knew how many innocent people he’d tortured like that?

I huffed a breath and shifted my attention outside when the sound of the car engine died down, and I heard the door open,

It was Andrei.

He’d driven his white Lamborghini today.

The wind ruffled his dirty blond hair as he climbed out of the car and shut the door.

My jaw dropped at how handsome he looked in the white pair of shorts and shirt he wore. It wasn’t his usual style, as I’d grown accustomed to seeing him in black suits and shirts.

He had a different look today—one that made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. His legs were made of solid muscles, and so were his arms, and my goodness…there was no way his handsomeness was ordinary.

I wondered what his parents looked like. They must have been quite attractive to have a son who looked this good.

To be honest, I wouldn’t mind having a child with him. He was handsome, strong, and intelligent. Giving my child some of those good genes wouldn’t be a bad choice.

As he walked toward the entrance, I padded to the front door and opened it before he could ring the doorbell.

Piercing blue eyes met mine, and it was hard to bite back the smile on my lips. “Hi.”

He didn’t smile back. Instead, he pulled me in for a gentle hug and kissed the top of my head. “How are you?”

I pulled back, noticing the crack in his usual demeanor. “I’m good. Is everything alright? You look….” I trailed off, unable to find the right word to describe the look on his face.

“I’m fine, solnishko . I came to discuss something.”

My stomach twisted. Something wasn’t right. I wonder what it was he came to discuss.

I moved out of the way to let him in, and closing the door, I sauntered after him. “Would you like something? Coffee, maybe?”

“A cup of black coffee will do.”

I smiled at him. “I’ll be right back.”

I went off to the kitchen and made two cups of coffee—one black coffee and one latte. They matched our different personalities in a way.

Returning to the living room, I placed the cup of black coffee in front of him and sat on the couch across from him with mine, curling my legs on the couch.

“You said you wanted to discuss something?”

“I do.” Bringing the coffee to his lips, he took a sip of it, but rather than wince from the bitterness, his face remained a blank mask. “It’s about your father.”

I straightened forward; my interest was piqued. “What is it about Dad? Have you found his killers?”

“Not yet, but I found something helpful.” He took out his phone from his pocket and tapped on it a few times. Placing it on the coffee table, he pushed it toward me. “I did a little digging to find his murderers, and I found something really interesting.”

I picked up the phone and zoomed in on the picture on the screen. It was a bullet. It still had stains of blood, even though it had clearly been wiped.

This was the bullet that killed my father.

My fingers tightened around the phone, and my teeth clenched. A blend of anger and sadness surged through me. “What did you find out?”

“I’d suspected your father was murdered by a rival family who wanted to get their hands on the shipment, but I could’ve been wrong.”

“If not a rival gang, then who?”

He set the coffee on the table and pinned me with a stare. “The bullet in that picture was taken out from your father’s body the day he was killed. The problem, however, is that the bullet is a very specific kind. Only someone from law enforcement could have had access to it.”

I froze in my seat, the air draining from my lungs. I knew where this was going, and I hadn’t prepared myself for it.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Why would someone from the law enforcement kill your father, Giselle?” Andrei asked, the iciness in his voice sending a tremor through me. He eyed me with quiet suspicion. “I want honest answers.”

My palm dug into my flesh, and my heart rate doubled.

Lying to Andrei now wouldn’t be a good move. On the contrary, it could be a recipe for disaster.

This was a moment of truth, the right time for me to come clean about everything I knew—everything I’d been hiding.

I held my breath and stared back at him. “My father was an FBI agent.”