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Paige
I tap on Emma’s bedroom door before going in, but I know she’s home, and more importantly, alone. I saw Viktor go into the garage moments after Andrei, and he must have left in one of the Rovers. I keep telling Emma to stay away from him while ignoring her over-the-top eye rolls. I can only hope she’ll listen to my repeated warnings before Andrei catches them. But I doubt she’ll listen to me.
Emma is sound asleep on her bed on top of a pile of wrinkled clothes, paperback thrillers, and the enormous purple tote bag beside her. There’s hardly any room for her on the queen-sized bed.
Her laptop is open, and the bright light from the movie playing casts an angelic glow over her face. A fluffy pillow is tucked under her cheek, and I smile as I watch her sleep. I remember when we were young and how we sometimes shared a bed despite each having our own. Her thick lashes press against her pink cheeks, and her plump lips are slightly parted as she breathes.
In my heart, Emma hasn’t changed. She’s still my sweet little sister, and I’m determined to keep her safe.
Quietly, I close the laptop and look for a place to put it on her bedside table. Her phone is in the way, and when I pick it up to move it, it vibrates with a message. Emma’s phone is never locked, and neither is mine. Andrei won’t allow passwords. I shouldn’t check her phone, but it’s in my hand, tempting me to swipe the screen.
A message lights up from Viktor. “I’ll be late tonight.” He signs it with a red heart emoji.
I want to erase his message, but I won’t. A deleted message won’t keep them apart. I place the phone down, using all my strength not to drop it on the floor and stamp on it. I close my eyes tightly and calm my emotions.
Am I angry because she’s been lying to me? Or am I angry because a dangerous man loves her? It’s a silly heart, but Viktor is willing to say to my sister the one thing my husband won’t say to me.
Andrei has opened up to me more, but he won’t tell me if he loves me. He seems willing to tell me almost everything but what I hope every day to hear. And maybe he can’t say it because he just doesn’t feel it. Maybe I’m willfully mistaking his desire for love. Maybe I’m jealous that my little sister has what I want.
No, I can’t be petty. I have to stick to the plan. I can’t talk myself out of it. We both have to get away from here. I can’t raise a child in this house. And I won’t allow the Bratva to corrupt my sister. The thought of being deceitful makes me sick, but I have to do this. I can’t wait for someone else to save us. I have to do it myself.
From Emma’s bedroom, I stride down the hallway to my father’s room. I push open the door and Inessa is perched on a chair by the doorway like a gargoyle. She glares at me like I’m a rodent sneaking out into the open from a dark crevice.
Inessa has never liked me. Not that I care, but she also doesn’t respect me. I can still recall her fingers digging into my upper arm on my wedding day. She left a bruise on purpose. I stand over her, my lips pressed into a tight line, my hands on my hips, daring her with a hard gaze to manhandle me like that again.
“Should you be in here?” she asks, as if I’m a difficult child.
“Get out, Inessa.” I smile tightly. “Please.”
She pauses, debating how to act or if I should have my way. Inessa stands and looks me hard in the eye, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I open the door wider for her exit.
“I’ll be right outside,” she says like a warning.
With restraint, I shut the door firmly, not slamming it with a curse. It’s late, not quite eleven, and my father lies quietly in his bed, his eyes closed and his mouth open as he takes in shallow breaths. I stand there, staring at my father, who I once loved with all my heart—a heart he’s helped destroy. He’s shattered my trust with an unthinkable act that’s ruined our lives. And even in his last moments, his greed stands in the way of him doing what’s right. My insides twist and turn as I wonder if Andrei will do the same thing to me. Does he care enough not to use me as he planned? Andrei swore to protect me, but are his promises conditional like my father’s?
I close my eyes as guilt tries to stop me. I force myself to confront my demons, starting with my father. If I can’t pull this off for myself, I have to do it for Emma. May she never know what our father really is.
“Gerald?” I walk softly to his bed and sit in the chair beside it. “Can you hear me?” I swallow hard and slip into my fake role. “It’s me, Cynthia. I’ve come back.”
His eyes open and stare at the ceiling. His hands move, trembling as he raises them from the bed.
“Gerald,” I whisper sweetly. “Are you awake?”
He doesn’t say a word and continues to lift his left hand, reaching for something. I reach for him, placing my hand firmly into his. I try to remember how they acted with each other before the trouble started. How affectionate they could be—holding hands, smiling at silly jokes, sitting side by side as they watched TV.
“Why did you do it?” he asks.
“I thought it was the right thing to do.” I lean in closer. “I didn’t want them to hurt you.”
He gasps at an unseen pain. “It kills me each time. Every time I think about it.”
Ignoring a spike of anger, I try not to squeeze his hand. “Forgive me, Gerry.”
“Cyndy.” My father presses my hand to his dry lips, and a tear trails down his cheek into the pillow.
He’s been a monster, but somewhere in there, he still loves her. I still love my dad and am hoping that he’ll show remorse. Mom made a sacrifice, which he refuses to accept.
I take a deep breath before I speak. “Gerald, the girls need your help. They need the money.”
