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He takes a nervous sip. “There's a guard at the prison. Russian guy named Baranov. I served him and one of Morozov's enforcers dinner about a month ago. They kept their voices down, but I caught bits and pieces while refilling their drinks.”

“And?”

“Baranov's on Morozov's payroll. He has been for years. They weren't exactly friends, but both came from the same area in Russia. Baranov owes Morozov, though I don't know why.”

I lean forward. “Did they mention anyone else? Anyone controlling things?”

Nick hesitates, clearly deciding how much to share. “There's a lawyer they mentioned. Benjamin Petrov. He eats at Venezia every Thursday at the same table by the window. Very particular about his food. The kind of man who thinks everyone is beneath him.”

“What's his connection to Morozov?”

“He handles legit business stuff. At least that's what it looks like. But the way they talked about him...he's more than just a lawyer. He's Morozov's fixer.”

“You think he was involved in framing Dimitri?”

Nick nods. “I don't know details, but Morozov's men stopped talking whenever I got too close to their table. One night though, after too much vodka, one of them bragged about ‘setting up the Avilov dog’ and mentioned Petrov had ‘taken care of the paperwork.’”

“Where can I find this Petrov?”

Nick's eyes widen in panic. “You can't be serious. You can't just walk up to him and start asking questions. These people don't play games, Sandy.”

“I'm not planning to ask nicely,” I reply, calm despite the storm raging inside me. “I need leverage.”

Nick studies me for a long moment as if he’s seeing someone he doesn’t recognize. “You’ve changed.”

“No,” I say quietly, holding his gaze. “I’ve always been this way. I just never had a reason to show it—until now.”

He drains his glass. “Look, I don't know much. I was just the guy pouring drinks and serving pasta. But I do know Petrov keeps an office on the Upper East Side. It’s very fancy. I delivered catering there once when they were short-staffed.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“He's paranoid. Keeps files on everyone, including Morozov. It's his insurance policy. If anything happens to him, those files go public. At least that's what I overheard one night.”

“And you know where these files are kept?”

Nick shakes his head. “In his office somewhere, but that place is like Fort Knox. I was only ever in the reception area.”

“You must know something else,” I press. “Someone who works there, maybe?”

Nick tugs at the ends of his hair, his eyes darting as if torn between silence and confession. “There’s a woman,” he answers at last. “Marina. She’s Russian, like the rest of them. She’s on the cleaning crew now, but she used to come into the restaurant sometimes for lunch.”

“And you think she could help me?”

“Maybe. She hates Morozov's people. Something about her brother getting caught up in their business back in Russia. But Sandy, this is dangerous. These aren't people you mess with.”

“I'm carrying the child of a man who's been falsely imprisoned and might be murdered before he ever gets to see his baby,” I say, my voice breaking despite my efforts to keep it steady. “I'm already in danger. We all are.”

Nick exhales, the sound filled with hints of regret. “I might be able to work something out with Marina. But Sandy… you’ve gotta promise me one thing.”

“That depends on what you’re asking,” I mutter, my voice flat, arms crossed tight.

“If this goes sideways, if anything happens, you tell Aleksandr it was all me. That I forced you into it.”

I almost laughed. “Nobody forces me to do anything, Nick.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “When Morozov’s men came after me at the coffee shop, I dragged you into this. You were in the line of fire the second I opened my mouth. And now, Aleksandr and Dimitri… they’re protecting me. Giving me a second chance I don’t deserve. They're helping me disappear.”

His eyes meet mine again, steady now, with no flinch or hesitation. “I owe them. I owe you. If this blows up, I take the fall. Not you.”

I don’t respond. There isn’t anything to say that doesn’t feel small in the face of that kind of loyalty.

“I’ll call you tomorrow with the details,” Nick says quietly, walking me to the door. Then, just as I step out, his voice stops me.

“And Sandy?”

I turn, catching the strain in his expression.

“Be careful. Morozov isn’t just dangerous because he’s violent. He’s dangerous because he sees people. He figures out what they want, what they fear… where they’re weak. And he turns it all into a weapon.”

I nod, the warning sinking in like a blade.

“Goodnight, Nick.”

As I drive back to the Avilov estate, I think about Nick's words regarding Morozov's understanding of people's fears. I place my hand on my stomach, feeling the gentle kick of my baby. The truth is, Morozov already knows my greatest fear. He's already targeted Dimitri.

But Morozov doesn’t understand that fear can be transformed into something else entirely. Something far more dangerous. Determination.

When I pull into the driveway, a plan begins to take shape. It isn’t perfect, and it sure as hell isn’t safe, but it’s something. A foothold in a war I’m not willing to lose.

The house is quiet when I step inside, but I’m not surprised to find Talia waiting. She emerges barefoot and wide-eyed from the living room shadows like she hasn’t moved in hours.

“Did you talk to him?” she asks softly.

I nod, dropping onto the couch beside her with a weary exhale. “Yeah. And I might have a way to get to Morozov’s lawyer, Benjamin Petrov.”

Talia’s eyebrows snap together. “Benjamin Petrov? Aleksandr’s mentioned him before.”

“But Aleksandr doesn’t have what I do.”

She tilts her head. “What’s that?”

I let a slow, dark smile pull at my lips. “The element of surprise. Nobody sees the pregnant girlfriend as a threat.”

Talia studies me, the worry unmistakable in her eyes. “This is a dangerous game, sis."

“I know,” I admit. “But what choice do I have? Dimitri's running out of time. I can feel it.”

She reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Then we better make sure you're prepared. Because if we’re going after Petrov, you're going to need more than just surprise on your side.”

“What do you mean we ?”

Talia's expression hardens. “I mean, it's time you learned what it really means to be part of this family. To be an Avilov.”

At this moment, as I look into my sister's eyes, I realize that the path forward isn’t about escaping the darkness. It’s about embracing it, becoming it, for Dimitri and our child. For all of us.

“We start tomorrow,” she states.

That night, I had a dream about Dimitri.

Not locked behind bars but standing in the sunlight, his arms around me, our child between us.

It was a dream of a future that seemed impossibly distant.

But as I woke to the cold emptiness of my bed, I made a silent vow.

I will make that dream real, no matter what it takes or who I have to become.

For Dimitri. For our family. For our future.

I will burn the world to ashes if I have to.