Page 185 of Nine Months to Bear

“From where?”

“I can’t tell quite yet. The IP’s masked, bouncing through like twelve different?—”

The lights flicker. Just once, but enough to make everyone freeze.

Then the alarms start. Not the subtle electronic chirp of the security system, but the full-throated wail of every one of my mansion’s emergency protocols activating at once.

“What the fuck—?” Taras is in motion, hand going to his gun.

But I don’t bother. Because, through the windows, I see them. Black SUVs streaming through the gates. A lot of them.

“Feds,” I say, surprisingly calm. “Everyone stay calm. Kevin, wipe everything.”

“Hold up,” the tech complains, “what the hell? I need more time?—”

“You have thirty seconds.”

I’m already moving toward the door, straightening my tie, preparing for the performance of a lifetime. Taras falls into step beside me.

“This is Mikayla,” he mutters. “She gave them everything.”

“Probably.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone about to get arrested.”

I shoot my cuffs. “They need evidence to make anything stick. We’ve been careful.”

“Not careful enough if they’re here.”

The front door explodes inward before we reach it. FBI agents flood the foyer, weapons drawn, shouting commands. I stop at the top of the stairs, hands visible but not raised.

Never show fear. Never show submission.

“Gentlemen,” I call down, “is all this really necessary? You could’ve simply knocked.”

The agent in charge steps forward—older, gray at the temples, eyes like a cop who’s seen too much and believes even less. His badge readsMedina.

“Stefan Safonov?” he barks.

“You know who I am.”

“We have a warrant.”

“Of course you do.” I start down the stairs, slow and controlled. “My lawyer will want to see that. But by all means, until he arrives, please, search away.”

Medina’s hand hovers near his weapon. “Search? No, that’s not why we’re here.”

“No?”

He pulls out the warrant and shakes it at me. “We’re here for Dr. Olivia Aster.”

I stop mid-step as that pain launches itself up my throat again. I can taste it now: blood and fear. “On what charges?”

“Conspiracy to commit money laundering. Operating an unlicensed medical facility. Fraud.” His smile is thin and mean. “Should I continue?”

“She has nothing to do with?—”

“Stefan.”