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I stare at his stony face. Say he does show me something, and say it does look like proof. How could I possibly trust it? Trust him?
As if he’s read my mind, he sighs. “I understand you might not trust me right now, Wren, but the honest-to-God truth is that I had no clue who you were until after I found out you were pregnant.”
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth. What you believe is up to you.”
I use the sink counter to pull myself upright. When he tries to help, I cringe away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
He drops his hands wordlessly and strides out into the den. My stomach twists when I look around at the space that he helped me create the last few weeks. I thought I loved him for it. Now, it just feels like more deception, more manipulation. More cruelty in the form of kindnesses I never should’ve accepted.
“Sit down,” he instructs, gesturing to the sofa.
I’d expected him to take me somewhere else—his office, maybe? Is that where these kinds of conversations normally take place?
But it’s just as well that we do it here, because I’m not sure how much longer I can stay on my feet. I sink onto the cushions and beg myself to remember how to breathe.
He sits on the brown leather armchair and withdraws a small recording device from his pocket. He places it on the table next to a dark brown file.
“January 14th, 2017. Does that date mean anything to you?”
I swallow to keep my jaw from shaking. “That was the date that Rose and Jared started their first round of IVF.”
Dmitri nods. “The first of five rounds.”
“Five? No, that’s wrong. Rose only tried twice.” I’m actually relieved that his information is incorrect. It proves that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. And if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that means he’s wrong about Jared, he’s wrong about Rose.
Maybe he’s wrong about all of it.
Dmitri’s expression doesn’t change. He gestures to the dark brown file. “Go ahead. Open it.”
My fingers tremble as I reach for it, desperate for answers and at the same time, terrified of what I might find out. I hesitate before I open the file. “What’s in here?”
“Nothing graphic,” he assures me.
I open the file and find—“Medical records?” I whisper as my eyes home in on the names at the top of the page. “Rose.” My finger drags across those four perfect letters. “Jared.”
“Those are copies of your sister’s medical records, starting from January 2017. As you can see, she’s signed every page. Along with her husband.”
One glance and I know those signatures are authentic. “I don’t understand,” I mumble, staring at the dates of each round of IVF. I was aware of the first and second round of IVF—but the last three?
Why would she keep that from me?
I shake my head and slam the file shut, refusing to believe what I’ve seen with my own eyes. “No. Why would she lie to me about this?”
“Because she couldn’t explain where she and Jared were getting the money for all these rounds of IVF without telling you the truth.”
“And what is the truth?” I demand.
“That Jared cut a deal with the Irish. Cathal O’Gadhra signed off on it himself. If Jared did something for Cathal, Cathal would give him as much money as he required until Rose was pregnant.”
I feel sick. I haven’t felt like this since my first trimester. I swallow the bitter bile and try desperately to concentrate. “I don’t understand… Where do you come in?” I’m sweating profusely under my arms. Fuck, I’m sweating in places I wasn’t even aware you could sweat from.
“Cathal wanted a gun for hire. Someone who couldn’t be easily traced back to him.” Dmitri’s jaw clenches tight and the silver in his eyes grows dark. “Jared was the weapon he exploited to get back at me.”
“How?”
A shadow ripples across Dmitri’s face. “Elena.”
