Chapter 32 Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
The winter air bites at my face as Viktor and I step out of the car, our breath forming small clouds in the frigid December evening.
The streetlights cast long shadows across Trisha's modest neighborhood, and I can see the warm glow emanating from the windows of her house.
My jaw clenches as I spot the figure lurking near the front door.
"Boss," Viktor murmurs beside me, his hand already moving toward his jacket. "You want me to—"
"No." My voice is barely above a whisper, but the authority in it stops him immediately. "We handle this quietly."
We move like shadows across the lawn, our footsteps muffled by the thin layer of snow.
The man at the door is so focused on whatever he's doing that he doesn't hear us approaching.
As we get closer, I can see him raising his arm toward the door, and every protective instinct I have roars to life. No one threatens what's mine.
In one fluid motion, I surge forward and slam the intruder against the front door with enough force to rattle the entire frame.
The man yelps in surprise, a high-pitched sound that cuts through the quiet night.
The door, apparently not as sturdy as it looks, gives way under the impact with a sharp crack of splintering wood.
We all stumble inside in a tangle of limbs—me, the intruder, and Viktor close behind. The man beneath me cries out as we hit the hardwood floor of the entryway, and I immediately begin patting him down for weapons, my hands moving with practiced efficiency.
"What the hell?" Ivy's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp with alarm.
I look up to see her standing frozen in the entryway, her coat half on, keys dangling from her fingers.
Her blue eyes are wide with shock, darting between me and the man I have pinned to the floor.
Behind her, in the living room doorway, Trisha appears with her hand pressed to her chest, her face pale as winter snow.
"Konstantin!" Ivy's voice rises to a near shout. "What are you doing? Get off him!"
The man beneath me is blubbering something, but I'm too focused on making sure he's not armed to pay attention to his words. My hands move over his jacket, his pockets, checking for the telltale bulge of a gun or knife. When I'm satisfied he's clean, I finally look down at his face.
Recognition hits me like a punch to the gut.
Frank Gilgran. Ivy's ex-boyfriend.
The man who thinks he has some claim to my wife.
I release him and stand slowly, my movements deliberate and controlled.
Frank scrambles to his feet, adjusting his glasses and smoothing down his rumpled brown hair.
He's exactly as pathetic as I remember—tall but soft, with the kind of build that suggests he's never thrown a real punch in his life.
But that isn’t true, if I’m being honest with myself. Frank may not be muscle-bound, but he’s good looking enough. And he’s respectable too. A principal at a school. Intelligent, makes good money, and could offer Ivy a decent life. The kind I can’t.
"I–I wasn't doing anything wrong," Frank stammers, his hazel eyes darting nervously between Viktor and me. "I was just… I've been visiting Trisha’s house every other day, hoping to hear something about Ivy. To see if she's okay."
The words hit me like gasoline on a fire. Every other day. This fool has been stalking my wife's mother's house, lurking around like some lovesick teenager. The rage that builds in my chest is white-hot, but I keep my voice quiet, lethal.
"Ivy is my wife, Frank." Each word is carefully measured, carrying the weight of a promise and a threat. "She doesn't need your concern anymore."
Frank's face flushes red, and for a moment, I see something that surprises me—genuine pain. Not just wounded pride or male ego, but real heartbreak. It makes him more dangerous than I initially thought, because desperate men do stupid things.
"But her marriage was so sudden," Frank says, his voice gaining strength as he speaks.
He turns to Ivy. "We were dating, Ivy. We had plans.
I don't understand what happened. One day you're with me, and the next you're married to…
" He gestures at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and disgust. "To him. "
"Frank, please—” Ivy starts, but I cut her off.
"What happened," I say, taking a step closer to Frank, "is that Ivy chose me. She married me. And that means you have no business lurking around her family's home like some kind of stalker."
"I'm not stalking anyone!" Frank's voice cracks slightly. "I love her! I've loved her for years, and I know she cares about me too. This whole thing doesn't make sense. Ivy, tell me this isn't real. Tell me you didn't choose this… this criminal over what we had."
The word 'criminal' hangs in the air like a challenge. Viktor shifts beside me, and I can feel the tension radiating from him.
Suddenly, Frank’s eyes light up and a look of what can only be described as hope flashes across his features.
“It’s because of the murder you witnessed, right?
” he says, his voice a little high with excitement.
“That’s why you married a… a family man.
” The way he says ‘family’ leaves no doubt that he means Mafia.
“This is just temporary. For protection, right?” He doesn’t give anyone a chance to answer. “As soon as this is over, then we can—”
I take a threatening step forward.
"Leave him alone, Konstantin," she says, her voice steady despite the chaos around us. "Frank isn't a threat to me. He just doesn’t understand. With good reason."
She's defending him, this weak man who thinks he can win her back with persistence and pathetic displays of devotion. But as I watch her face, I see something else—guilt. She feels responsible for his pain, and that protective instinct of hers is kicking in.
It's one of the things I love about her, and right now, it's driving me insane.
She turns her attention to her ex. “I’m sorry, Frank, but that’s not going to happen. Konstantin and I are well and truly married, and that’s not going to change once I testify.”
I almost feel sorry for the man as I watch his face crumple. He really does love her, and if I’m being honest with myself, he would have made a better husband had the circumstances been different. He could have given Ivy a normal life like she deserved.
But I don’t let any of those weaker feelings show. “He’s obsessed with you, Ivy. That can be very dangerous.”
Frank protests, but his voice lacks conviction. "I just… I needed to know she was safe. When she disappeared, when no one would tell me anything, I thought something terrible had happened to her."
"Something terrible did happen to her," I say, and the truth of it hits me like a physical blow. "She witnessed a murder. She was put in danger because of the world I live in. But she's safe now, and she's with me."
Ivy nods. “Konstantin is right. I'm safe now."
"Safe?" Frank's voice rises again. "With him? Ivy, look around you! He just broke down your mother's door! He attacked me for knocking! This isn't safety—this is insanity!"
Before I can respond, Trisha's voice cuts through the argument like a blade.
"Enough."
We all turn to look at her. She's standing in the living room doorway, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her face is pale, but there's something in her dark green eyes that I recognize—the same steel that Ivy has, the same refusal to back down when pushed too far.
"All of you," she continues, her voice shaking with emotion. "I want all of you out of my house. Now."
"Mom—” Ivy starts, but Trisha holds up a hand.
"No, Ivy. I've heard enough." She looks directly at me, and I see something in her expression that makes my chest tighten. Fear. Not just of me, but of what I represent. "I won't have this in my home. I won't have violence and threats and… and whatever this is."
She gestures at the broken door, at Viktor standing like a silent sentinel, at me with my barely controlled rage.
"Mrs.—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
"Don't." Her voice is sharp, final. "I know what you are, Mr. Mikhailov. I've always known, even when Andrei tried to hide it from me. I know what that world cost me, what it cost Ivy. And I won't let it destroy what's left of my life."
The mention of Andrei—Ivy's father—sends a chill through me. There's something in Trisha's voice, a pain that goes deeper than just tonight's chaos.
"Mom, what are you talking about?" Ivy's voice is small, confused.
Trisha's eyes fill with tears, but her voice remains steady. "As long as you're married to him, Ivy, you're not welcome in this house. I'll have no Mafia in my life. Never again."
The words hit the room like a physical blow. Ivy staggers backward as if she's been slapped, her face going white with shock.
"You don't mean that," Ivy whispers.
"I do." Trisha's voice breaks slightly, but she doesn't back down. "I lost your father to that world. I won't lose you too."
The silence that follows is deafening. Frank looks between us all with growing horror, finally understanding that he's stumbled into something far bigger and more dangerous than a simple love triangle. Viktor remains motionless, but I can feel his readiness to act if needed.
And Ivy… Ivy looks like her world is crumbling around her.
"Get out," Trisha says again, her voice barely above a whisper. "All of you. Get out of my house."