Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Anna
Ivan was out of his mind.
Teacher?
How could he spin such a blatant lie?
I was one hundred percent certain he already knew who Alex was—hell, he probably had the birth date, the birth certificate, everything I didn't want him touching.
But I couldn't say a word. Couldn't show a thing. Just stood there frozen, even my breathing calculated.
I stole a glance at him.
Still perfectly composed, that faint smile on his lips, shoulders relaxed.
That smug certainty made my teeth ache—he knew damn well I wouldn't refuse him in front of Alex.
Alex was still looking up at me, eyes bright with anticipation.
"Please, Mommy?"
The evening breeze swept down the street, lifting that honey-gold strand off his forehead.
I stared into those gray-blue eyes for two seconds, then took a deep breath and forced something like a smile.
"Of course, sweetie. Your teacher can come up for a bit."
"Yay!"
I took Alex's hand and headed toward the apartment.
Ivan followed behind us, maybe two steps back. Not close, not far. His shoes scraped the asphalt, dry and light, mixed with the crunch of dead leaves.
The wind pushed from behind, carrying his scent—cedar mixed with a hint of tobacco, diluted by the evening chill, threading into my nose in thin wisps.
Then I heard his voice, soft, like he was talking to the wind itself.
"You can't run from me."
The hairs on the back of my neck rose instantly, and a trail of icy sensation spread down my spine.
I didn't look back, and I didn't slow my pace. I simply tightened my grip on Alex's hand.
Alex bounced along, chattering about the turtle he'd made in art class today, painted green on top, but the paint was too thick and hadn't dried all afternoon.
I responded on autopilot. "Oh really? Did it dry eventually?"
It was the only way I could press down the panic rising in my chest. I couldn't let my eyes drift backward.
The apartment wasn't far. Around the corner and we were there.
I fumbled for my keys. Ivan stood quietly behind me. I could feel him staring—from my shoulders down my spine—like a hot coal pressed against fabric, making my whole body tense.
He was making me crawl out of my skin.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, changed into slippers, then nudged the spare gray pair toward the door.
Ivan bent to change shoes, his gaze sweeping over the photo of me and Alex on the entryway table. He paused.
"You've had this photo up a while?"
The picture was from Alex's first year of preschool. His honey-gold head tilted against my shoulder, me looking down at him, both of us smiling. Background: the graffiti-covered wall by the preschool entrance.
My hand gripped the edge of the table. I stared at his back, thoughts spinning. He was testing me. Looking for cracks in my story.
"Put it up when we moved in," I said, keeping my voice casual. "Almost three years now."
Ivan didn't respond.
His fingertip traced the glass, lingering there longer than felt normal.
He said, "Someone's missing."
My heart clenched. My breathing hitched.
Who was he talking about?
Himself?
I clenched my fists, years of practiced composure the only thing keeping me together. Alex ducked around him, tilting his head at the photo.
"How could someone be missing?"
Then, in that sweet little voice, "You mean Chris?"
The name hit like a stone dropped in water. I nearly lost it.
Chris?
I'd almost forgotten about him.
Maybe I could ask him for help. Have him play my boyfriend for a few days. Maybe then Ivan would leave.
"Chris?" Ivan's voice dropped. "Who's that?"
"My mommy's friend." Alex grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the living room. "Chris is really nice. He comes to play with me every week."
Ivan let himself be pulled a couple steps, then stopped at the living room entrance. He straightened, his gaze settling heavily on my face. Those eyes were too sharp—like they could punch holes right through my defenses.
I looked away, busying myself with the key dish on the table. The metallic clatter sounded too loud in the silence.
Alex pulled Ivan down onto the carpet. Blocks tumbled out across the floor with a bright clatter.
"Ivan, look at this!"
"I see it."
I turned toward the kitchen, planning to make coffee. My fingers trembled as I reached for the kettle. Cold metal knocked against the counter edge with a sharp clink.
Behind me, Ivan's footsteps followed steadily, stopping at the kitchen doorway.
"Anna."
His voice was low. No accusation in it.
"Who is Chris? He comes every week?"
His stare pressed into my back like a red-hot brand through fabric, making my whole body go rigid.
He sounded like a husband catching his wife cheating.
I didn't turn around. Didn't answer. The kettle started to sing, tiny bubbles rising from the bottom.
"Ivan, is my mommy okay?"
Ivan didn't move, but his voice lifted slightly, directed toward the living room. "She's fine. Just fumbled the kettle."
"Oh, Mommy's such a goof."
Alex's childish laughter drifted in from the living room.
I bit my lip. My face was burning again.
Ivan raised an eyebrow, those gray-blue eyes locked on me, the corner of his mouth curved just enough for the light to carve a shallow shadow.
"She really is."
I suspected he was insulting me.
But he didn't come closer. After that, he turned and went back to the living room.
I stood at the stove, finally able to let out that trapped breath. The kettle screamed. Steam battered the lid.
I shut off the burner. The kitchen went silent except for the steam climbing, fogging up the little mirror by the counter.
I wiped it with my hand. A clear streak opened across the glass. The woman inside had flushed cheeks, tight lips, eyes panicked like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
Oh God.
What was I supposed to do?
Should I march out there and lay it all out? Tell him I'd never give up custody of Alex?
But...
The truth was like tissue paper. Once you tore it, you couldn't tape it back together. I'd worked so hard to piece this life together. I didn't want it ripped apart.
I took a deep breath, tucked loose strands behind my ears in the mirror, and pressed my hand against my burning cheeks. Then I picked up the coffee and pushed through the door.
The living room ceiling light was on now. Warm yellow light pooled across the carpet, softening the whole room's edges.
Blocks were scattered everywhere. Alex knelt in the middle, head tilted back as he tried to fit a blue piece onto the castle's tower.
Ivan sat across from him, long legs folded awkwardly, one hand loose on his knee, the other reaching out to steady the wobbling gate.
Light fell across the top of his head, blurring the angles of his profile. The arc of his brow, the line of his jaw—both softened in that warm glow.
Hard to believe this man ruled the dark world.
He sensed my gaze and suddenly turned, those gray-blue eyes still holding the gentleness from playing with Alex.
My hand shook. Coffee nearly sloshed over the rim.
Alex chirped, "Mommy, look at the gate Ivan helped me build!"
I walked over, set the coffee on the table, and forced a smile. "Alex, if you're done playing, you should get to your homework. Don't keep your teacher from going home."
Anyone could hear the dismissal in my voice.
Ivan certainly did. He sat there, a block still balanced on his knee, no particular expression on his face. Just a slight lift of his eyelids, his gaze traveling over Alex's head to land on my face.
Alex's shoulders slumped.
He drooped, voice small like he was negotiating with himself. "Okay then."
He looked up at Ivan with longing. "Ivan, we can't finish our castle."
Ivan smiled faintly. Barely a smile at all.
He reached out and tapped Alex's forehead. "You go write in your room. When you're done, we'll finish the castle. Deal?"
I frowned. Was he planning to stay?
Alex's eyes lit up. He nodded eagerly, grabbed his backpack, and scampered off to his room with a patter of little feet.
The living room went silent.
Steam still curled from the coffee on the table. Blocks littered the floor. The castle was half-built, the gate missing a gray semicircle piece.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a notch.
I prepared to repeat my dismissal. But Ivan didn't wait for me to speak.
"Alex is my son."
No preamble. No buildup.
He just sat there, that block still on his knee, like he was stating a fact he'd verified a thousand times over.
All the blood in my body seemed to freeze in that instant, starting from my fingertips and working its way to my heart.
I instinctively stepped back, my lips moving several times before I could squeeze out words. "What are you talking about? Alex, he—"
"Kitten." Ivan cut me off. "Do you know what happens when you lie to your master?"
What happens?
My brain blanked for a second, like someone had yanked a cord, leaving every thought suspended mid-air.
He stood up. The block slid off his knee onto the carpet with a muted thud.
He walked toward me. One step. Two. His shadow reached me first, blocking out the living room light.
I backed up. Until my lower back hit the edge of my bedroom doorframe. I scrambled sideways into the room. He followed.
I watched helplessly as he closed the bedroom door.
The living room light was cut off, vanishing from view. Just that thin line of warm yellow through the crack, like a candle wick about to go out.
The cold, oppressive presence of him closed in from all sides, caging me in.
I wanted to run. Too late.
His shadow fell completely over me, his outline half a size wider than mine, fitting me entirely into the darkness he cast.
That line of light through the door crack flickered. Went out.
"Kitten, when you do something wrong, you get punished."