Page 116 of Scarlet Thorns

And Osip…

God, the way his face transformed when he looked at me. For a moment, his carefully constructed mask slipped completely, revealing something raw and vulnerable underneath. The joy in his eyes wasn’t calculated or measured— it was pure, unguarded happiness. He’d actually smiled, a real smile that reached his eyes and softened the harsh lines around them. When he kissed me afterward, it felt different. Like I was precious instead of just useful.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but what if this changes everything? What if the baby growing inside me becomes the bridge between the cold contractual arrangement we started with and something real? Something that could grow into love, into a family that’s more than just genetics and legal documents. The way he touched my face, whispered “thank you” like I’d given him salvation itself—

That’s enough, Ilona.

Stop fooling yourself.

The harsh whisper of my inner voice cuts through the romantic fantasy. This is still a transaction, still a carefully orchestrated plan to fulfill his need for an heir. The tenderness I thought I saw could just as easily be relief that his investment is paying off. Men like Osip don’t fall in love with their surrogates— they protect their assets.

Whatever the case, my pregnancy comes with complications I hadn’t anticipated. Close medical supervision, he’d said. Regular check-ups with specialists he trusts. And after the tire incident today Osip’s protective instincts have shifted into overdrive.

The sharp trill of my phone cuts through my brooding thoughts, Jason’s name flashing on the screen like a channel to my old world. I take a steadying breath before answering.

“Hey, Jason.”

“Ilona! How are you holding up, kiddo?” His familiar gravelly voice makes me smile, even though I’m anxious about what he may have to say. “Are you doing okay? Budapest treating you well?”

“I’m… managing. It’s different here, but good different.” The lie comes easily now. I can’t exactly tell him I’m living in Buda Hills with a Russian crime boss and carrying his child. “How are Mary and the kids?”

“Mary’s good— finally got that promotion at the hospital. Tommy just started high school, can you believe it? Seems like yesterday he was learning to ride a bike.” Jason’s chuckle fades, his tone shifting to the serious register I remember from our police station days. “Listen, kiddo, I’ve been digging into your father’s case like I promised.”

My pulse quickens, and I grip the phone tighter. “And?”

“Well, there’s only so much I can do off the record. It’s a closed case after all, so my reach is limited.” There’s a pause, and I can picture him in his cluttered office, surrounded by case files and cold coffee. “But… your daddy’s mortgage papers raised some red flags. Twenty million dollars— that’s not an amount a bank would normally lend.”

I sit up straighter, my free hand unconsciously pressing against my abdomen. “What do you mean?”

“The loan came through a number of shell companies. I’m trying to trace the sources, but one thing’s for sure— this is no regular mortgage.” His voice takes on that careful cop tone I remember from when he was delivering bad news. “Your father’s practice stats were… unusual too. Extremely high success rates— almost questionably high.”

My throat constricts, and I have to swallow hard before I can speak. The defensive words leap out before I can stop them. “He was good at his job. Maybe his diagnosis methods were more precise than those of his colleagues.” But even as I say it, doubt creeps in, spreading through my memories of Dad’s final months.

“Well… too good, Ilona. What the numbers don’t show is that most of his successful cases ended in adoptions, not births. All through the same channels. I’ve got someone looking into the adoption records now.”

My free hand moves instinctively, protecting my abdomen where Osip’s child grows. The irony isn’t lost on me— here I am, pregnant for money, while my father apparently helped other couples find children through suspicious means.

“You think my father was involved in something illegal? Like, illegal adoptions or something like that?” My voice comes out thin and strained.

“Look, I don’t know. I’ll see if I can find out more, but…” Jason’s voice carries that careful weight I remember from his detective days, when he was trying to break bad news gently.

“But what?” The words scrape past my dry throat.

“It’s possible that your father was connected with some… people you don’t want to mess with.”

“What? Like who?”

“Look, it’s too early to say anything, but… I need you to be careful, okay? I’ll see if I can find out more.”

Shit.

People you don’t want to mess with?

He needs me to be careful?

What does that even mean?

“Jason, I’m in Budapest.” I work to keep my voice steady. “Even if my father had enemies, there’s no way anyone can find me here. Besides, why would anyone want to mess withmeof all people? My father died over a year ago and whatever he’s done died with him.”