I arrived at my father’s house late one evening, and he was waiting for me; his hand shoved into his pocket, a drink to his lips. I could see the look in his eyes. The look that warned me pain was close by.
“Dad?” I said cautiously.
“Simon Volkov,” he replied, and it had made my stomach drop. He’d found out. And he told me that I had only one choice after betraying our family and dating one of our enemies. I had to make it up to him byspyingon the Volkovs. I was too terrified to say no. If I said no, he made it clear I would never see Simon again, and I needed him. I needed him so badly.
I kept dating him for a week, but every day of that week, I was weighed down with guilt and fear.
I never told my father anything about his family. I couldn’t betray him that way.
I decided, instead, to tell Simon who my father was and what he wanted me to do.
But before that happened, as life does, something else got in the way of my plans.
I found out I was pregnant.
And so did my father. Back then, I didn’t realize how carefully he stalked me, how he watched my every move. He had the discarded pregnancy test in his hand when I got home one morning. He held it up and smiled at me in that terrifying way that made my blood run cold. “A Volkov baby?” he snarled.
That night, he made it clear—he owned my children, and he owned me. And if I didn’t spy on Simon’s family, he would take my children from me. He would do things that I don’t even want to think about.
I still couldn’t bear to spy on Simon, to betray him, so I broke up with him. It was over the phone because I couldn’t look into his eyes when I said the words. I couldn’t hold myself together and manage that. Leaving him was the only way I could see out of the mess. I could keep my children safe; I could no longer be used as a spy…
To my surprise, my father didn’t even get angry when I told him I’d left Simon. I expected so much anger. But instead, he helped me vanish. He turned me into a ghost.
For five years, he locked me in his home, a prisoner, disregarded, mistreated, and abused. I put up with it every day as long as he didn’t lay a hand on my children. I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. He controlled everything. I would hush the kids, keep them out of his way, and try to make the most of our time together. But it was hell. And I know they felt it, even as I tried to protect them from it.
Then two months ago, everything changed. I overheard something that forced me to make a decision that led me to be hiding in a motel today.
My father was in his study talking to Bogdan, my oldest brother. “Their alliance with the Nikolais makes them more valuable than before.”
“And the blood connection those children have with the Volkovs means that we can control the Volkovs.” My brother’s voice carried a hint of excitement as he discussed my children, just as my father often did—as useful items. Tools. Bargaining chips to use in business deals.
“The Nikolais are the strongest Bratva family we’ve ever come across,” Bogdan had said.
“Yes, and the Volkovs will soon be as powerful as them now that they are allied.”
“We need to move now, while the alliance is still relatively new. We need to do this now,” my father had said.
And I knew I couldn’t stay in that house for one more moment. I had to take my children and leave.
With a handful of cash, barely enough to survive four months, I took my babies and I ran. And ever since then, I have been running and living in fear that my father will find us and drag us back to his house.
“We ready!” Solenne declares, showing me that they both have their shoes on.
“Alright, let’s go then. It’s not far to the park; we can catch a taxi. But remember the rules?” I say carefully.
“Always listen. Run if Mommy says run.” Arron knows the rules better than Solenne. She is more carefree than him, less aware of things. I trust, though, that in the moment, he will take care of her as best he can.
“Good. Let’s go.” I grab my backpack, filled with our passports and our cash, and sling it over my shoulder. With theway my father is, I have no idea when he will attack or find us, and I always have to be ready.
Solenne is screaming happily as I push the swings higher, watching her blonde hair stream behind her as she kicks her feet up, trying to go faster. Arron is up on the jungle gym, playing on the monkey bars. I keep looking from one to the other, making sure they are both safe.
And at some point, my eyes fall onto a tall man, taller than anyone here, with wide shoulders and a thick neck, his back facing me.
His blonde hair catches the sun.
My heart stops cold in my chest, and I stop pushing Solenne. My body is screaming danger, and my mind is screaming that it’s not possible. It can’t possibly be Simon.
He turns to the side, talking to a little girl, helping her unwrap a chocolate. Nausea floods me as the panic gets worse. ItisSimon. My Simon. And I can’t let him see me.
