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“You have a long paper trail. Your mom, too. I know how many times people reported her for neglecting you. For leaving you sitting on public park benches for hours at a time. Teachers said you showed up hungry and dirty. Weird that she couldn’t afford clothes or food, considering how many times she was arrested for prostitution.”
Piper is breathing heavily now. She’s trying to stay calm, but I see the storm walls inside of her failing under the punishing weight of her anger and shame.
“If you read everything, then you should know exactly why she couldn’t afford it.”
“Addiction has a genetic component. Have you ever wondered if you have it, too?”
“Being hurt doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole,” she says softly.
“No,” I continue, “I’m sure you’ve steered well clear of all that nastiness after her overdose. The last thing you’d want is to end up like her, right? Out of all the adults in your life, your caseworker was probably the most stable. Is that why you became one?”
Her face is a rainbow of hate. Red, purple, pale. “So what if that is the reason? It doesn’t change anything.”
“There is a difference between what your mom did to you and what is going on in there.” I point at the house. “Don’t punish those kids because of your own baggage.”
Her eyebrows arch up. “Mybaggage? We are talking aboutmybaggage? I’m not the one defending a woman who can’t even get out of bed to feed her own baby! You’re the one who can’t let go!”
“Oh, I let go,” I tell her. “You can’t make it to the top carrying all the shit from our terrible childhoods. I dropped all of that and sacrificed everything to get to where I am today.”
“Including your humanity,” she mumbles.
“Better that than sacrifice the rest of my life,” I snarl. “No one was on my side when I was a kid. But now, I am in charge of an entire Bratva. I have an army of men who are loyal to me. Men who will die to protect me. Meanwhile, you practically kill yourself to please everyone else.”
Shock blanches the color from her cheeks. Piper’s mouth flops open. She’s too stunned for words.
If she hasn’t figured out I’m the don of the Viktorov Bratva by now, maybe she really is as dumb as I’ve been telling her she is. I haven’t exactly kept my title a secret.
But maybe I’ve been overestimating her from that start.
I use her silence to my advantage. I yank her towards the bike and rev the engine as she climbs woodenly onto the back.
Without another word, we roar down the street and away from the duplex.
And when I glance in the mirror, for the briefest of moments, I could swear I see something: a mustached man raising one thick hand in a goodbye wave.
I twist the accelerator, until he’s gone like the rest of it.
56
PIPER
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting at the dining room table, staring unblinkingly at the open file folder with another child’s heartbreaking life story splayed across the pages, when a plate of food slides in front of me.
I look up to see Akim standing just behind my shoulder. He’s holding a napkin and a bottle of wine in his arms.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Has it been so long since you’ve eaten that you don’t remember what food is?” He points to the plate. “This is roast beef. It’s from a cow. Then there are mashed potatoes, which come from the ground. Asparagus is also—”
“I mean,” I interject, rolling my eyes, “where did this come from? The kitchen is still under construction, right?”
I don’t even need to ask. From here, I can see the charred burn marks up the side of the cabinets and the melted top of the oven.
“Obviously. If my kitchen was open, I would never serve you dry, reheated roast beef. This shit was dry when it arrived. One Michelin star, my ass.” He wrinkles his nose at the gourmet food on my plate. “If you want something done right, don’t let a guest burn down your kitchen.”
I wince. “I really am sorry. Have I said that yet?”
“No. But I accept.”
