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I shrugged defensively and paced around, trying to blow off some steam. “I can’t ignore the things he accused me of. I’m sorry, but I can’t. How can you have a loving relationship if you really think I was trying to tie you down for your money?”

“Fuck, bratan,” Jonathan said with a whistle. “That’s harsh.”

“Sadie, please,” Mikhail said, ignoring my brother. “It was a stupid thing to say. I know it was hurtful. I’m going to make up for it.”

“He’s already started more than making up for it,” my brother added. “You should see the list of all the things he’s started buying for the kids and you and Mom.”

I groaned and pressed my hands to my face. “The last thing I want to hear about is the money he’s throwing at the problem.”

Gentle hands took my wrists from where I had been pulling on my curls. Mikhail’s eyes were sad but steady.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But that’s one thing we’re going to have to come to grips with. My parents’ death made me an instant billionaire. And I’d be a fool to not spend it on things I wanted. I want you all to be taken care of. I want security for my chosen family and my blood family — the children I fathered.”

“I want more than that — and they deserve more than that,” I said. “Can’t you see that, Misha? Being a father is more than writing checks. You have to want to be there.”

“I do want that.”

My shoulders sagged. “We’ll see. They were cute the other night, but they’re a handful sometimes. Let’s see how much you want to be their father when they’re all screaming and fighting and crying.”

“You have to give me a chance to prove myself, Sadie.” Mikhail traced my face gently with the palm of his hand. I had to fight myself not to lean into the touch. I needed comfort so badly. “What about us, malysh? Don’t we deserve another chance to make it right with each other?”

“It has to be slow, Misha,” I said, feeling exhausted. “I don’t know. I’m just so tired.”

“Go home and rest,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of my head. “This has been a lot. I know that and I’m sorry for it. Will you answer your phone now? Stop ignoring me, at least?”

“I’ll answer,” I said. All the fight had gone out of me.

“Hey, Misha?” We both remembered that Jonathan was still in the parking lot with us. He was studying his phone. “I just got an alert to tell me that my spreadsheet’s finally done populating. Again. I put in all the new algorithms for the situations we were talking about.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We’re still looking for Misha’s parents’ killer,” Jonathan said. “This is the new suspect list, and — wow. I don’t know what to tell you, Misha, but it hasn’t really shuffled things around a lot. There’s Sergei Ivanov again, right in first place.”

Mikhail scowled instantly. “I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again. That just isn’t possible. Why would Sergei have killed my parents?”

“To get their money,” Jonathan said easily.

“It wouldn’t have worked like that. I was their heir.”

“Then what better way to get in good with you than to remove your only parental figures and insert himself into your life?”

Mikhail slashed the air with the edge of his hand. “You are wrong, bratan. The algorithms are off. Where did you say you learned all of this from? Maybe your educational institution needs to be audited.”

“Don’t be an asshole, bratan. These numbers don’t lie. The only thing that does lie is you. To yourself. About Sergei Ivanov. There’s a reason he's at the top of the list.”

Mikhail got in Jonathan’s face and I coughed loudly to snap them out of whatever fight they were ready to throw.

“Sounds like you all have a lot to figure out,” I observed drily. All those speeches about good communication, and here they were, ready to punch it out in the parking lot of our alma mater. “I need to go home.”

“I’ll call you,” Mikhail said, exhaling heavily and trying to get his temper under control. “And you’ll answer.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, ignoring my brother’s muttered curses at his phone as the two of them got in the Tesla.

All I wanted was to go home, shower, and roll straight into bed. That wouldn’t happen, of course. I’d spend time with my kids and debrief with my mom and try to eat something and do a few chores around the house.

But by leaving work, I was a few steps closer to bed. That was all that mattered.

I rounded the last corner before the house and my heart leapt into my throat. Blue and red lights flashed in the dusk, brightening the branches of the trees around the yard and reflecting in sharp bursts from the windows of the house.

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