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“My wife has just woken up after having had major surgery. What do you want?” Viktor demands like he knows who they are.
“We need to speak with your wife, sir. Ma’am, my name is Detective Paderewski, and this is my partner, Detective Jacobs. We have a couple of questions about the shooting.”
I peer at Viktor, confused. Usually, matters like this are handled in-house.
“You don’t need to speak with them,” he tells me, his annoyance obvious in his tone.
“We need a statement and any details you might remember,” Detective Paderewski says, ignoring Viktor.
“I don’t remember anything.” I grab Viktor’s hand.
“Are you sure you don’t remember anything? Did you know the woman who shot at you?” Detective Jacobs asks with an accusatory tone.
“Like I said, I don’t remember anything,” I repeat, somewhat annoyed.
“It would really help us if you could try to remember. We can’t arrest the person who did this if you aren’t able to provide us with any leads,” Detective Paderewski voices less aggressively than her partner.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I truly can’t remember anything.” Now there’s no doubt I’m annoyed.
“Not cooperating means you’re obstructing justice,” adds Detective Jacobs, oblivious to the raging anger lining Viktor’s face.
“My wife said she doesn’t remember anything. Now get the fuck out before I have your badges,” Viktor orders them, his voice a vicious snarl.
“Sir, we’re trying to piece everything together. Surveillance shows a woman, who has been identified as Fiona McIntyre, entered your wife’s room,” Detective Jacobs responds. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s your ex-wife.”
“Is there a question there?” Victor growls, his hands balled.
“We want your cooperation. We believe Ava knows more than she’s telling us,” Detective Paderewski states while turning back to me. “Do you remember Fiona McIntyre being in the room? If so, what did you speak about?”
I gaze at Viktor. His demeanor has changed, and his self-control is practically gone. Before he can say something that will get him in trouble, I answer. “Fiona came to my room because her biological daughter, Aisling, was with me. One minute, we were talking. The next, I was here. I don’t remember anything else. It’s all a blank.”
“Your account of events sounds remarkably convenient,” Detective Jacobs huffs, lifting an eyebrow and cocking his head.
“Enough. How dare you accuse my wife of not telling the truth. Get the fuck out,” hisses Viktor. The air crackles with tension, making Detective Jacobs take a step back.
“You can try and cover it up, but we know there’s more to this story,” he spits before he storms out.
“I apologize. Here’s my card. If you remember anything, please give me a call,” Detective Paderewski says before she leaves.
Viktor and I remain quiet for a few seconds, but I can tell we’re thinking the same thing.
What happens next?
“What now?” I ask, breaking the silence when no solution comes from it.
“We find who did this to you.”
I adore his protectiveness, but it doesn’t stop me from asking, “Shouldn’t we let the cops do their job?”
My heart thuds in my chest when he holds my face. “I swear, whoever had their hands on this will die. This is my justice.” He kisses me. It is his way of reminding me he’s Viktor Manarch, and healwayshas the last word.
* * *
Finally, the day has come for me to go home. I’ve been losing my mind at the hospital. Everyone has been on top of me, freaking out every time I wince or say I’m in pain. Viktor hasn’t left my side. I had to force him to go home for the sake of the kids, but that only lasted a few hours. When he returned, he confessed how he nearly died when I flat lined in front of him.
“My world collapsed when you coded.” He moved a few strands of hair away from my face.
“I’m fine. I’m here. You won’t get rid of me so easily.”
