Page 16 of Deceitful Vows


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The anxiety returns when we see the disarray in the house. The house was never meticulous, but now there are papers all over the floor. Someone has obviously been back to search for something again.

“Do you think Talia was here?” asks Emma. “Do you think she’ll be coming back?”

“Emma, Talia will never come near you again,” I speak in a firm voice. “I will kill her if she does.” I look at a pile of folders spilled across the floor in Dad’s old bedroom. “He wouldn’t keep any of his sensitive files here at the house.”

We go on our knees anyway and start to shuffle through the folders. “This seems to be mostly personal letters,” I say after a few minutes. “Family stuff.”

I scoop the letters into a tote bag along with some photo albums. Emma crawls under the bed and pulls out two ancient laptops.

“They could have downloaded the files and left it behind,” she says. “There’s only music on one. And the other one is held together with duct tape. I don’t even think it turns on anymore.” Emma turns the laptop over in her hands. “I think I’m going to download the music.”

I nod. “You might as well just take it with you. Emma. I’m sorry I told you about Dad.”

“I’m not sorry,” she replies. “Now, I understand why everything is happening. And I finally get that we’re in serious trouble. Paige, we have to find that money.” Her eyes search mine. “We can’t stay with these people.”

“I thought you liked them,” I try unsuccessfully to tease. “Didn’t you just say we’re Bratva?”

Emma scoffs. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.”

She turns in a slow circle, taking in the shabby interior. A home we once loved so dearly, but now we know better. Unfortunately, the painful memories will always overshadow the good.

“Do you think we’ll ever come back here again?” Emma asks.

I shake my head. “I hope not.”

Chapter 9

Paige

Am I mad?I torture myself with that question every second I’m awake and breathing. I know I should run away with my baby, but I don’t. I recall the funeral, all those people congratulating Andrei for what he had done. It was hard to watch and keep silent, but I did, biting down hard on my bottom lip. They praised me for being a good wife and wished more children on me.

Did they do the same with Eva when she birthed Andrei?

I close my eyes and sink into the couch, listening to the birds outside the French doors. The ballroom has become my retreat. The place I go to get away while I stay here and do nothing. I reason with myself that I have no money, nor a place to go. I’m pregnant. And how will I support Emma?

I list all the excuses I can find to support my decision just to lie here and do nothing on this couch.

I pop a ripe strawberry in my mouth and chastise myself for making up problems. But am I?

Running out of strawberries is a not a life-threatening problem. But being scared that I can be shot in my own bed is a terrible thought to live with every day.

Someone clears their throat and I lift up and look toward the doorway. Inessa stands at the door, looking concerned as she steps into the room.

“I think you better go to your father’s room,” she says.

“Is something wrong?” I ask as I hurry out into the hallway and head for the stairs.

“I think you should come and look yourself.”

I step into Dad’s room and get the same feeling that she did. It’s time. Dad stopped eating several days ago, his mouth clamped shut tightly, refusing the ice chips to keep his mouth hydrated. I stand quietly by his bed, listening to his labored breathing. He doesn’t seem to see me as I held onto his hand.

Inessa’s forehead furrows with concern. “Should I get your sister?”

“No, I’ll get her.” I move quickly out the door. Emma’s attitude toward everyone has changed. And it worries me.

I find Emma in Andrei’s office as she explains her reasons for not going to private school. Andrei listens patiently to what she has to say, but his stoic expression only makes her voice rise and her hands gesture wildly. It’s obvious that Andrei is not the least bit moved by her pleas.

“I have no friends there,” she says hotly. “I have a B average at my old school. I belong to clubs.”

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