37. Cathy
37
CATHY
O utside Nik’s room, I hand Ivan a bottle of water, watching as his fingers close around it. His hand brushes mine, and for a moment, he just stares down at the bottle, not drinking, not moving. The fatigue in his face is unmistakable—dark shadows under his eyes, his jaw clenched in a familiar tension.
“You’ve been here for days, Ivan,” I say softly. “You need to take a break. Drink something. Maybe even eat.”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look at me. “This shouldn’t have happened,” he mutters, voice rough. “I should have found Jimmy sooner. I should have killed him the first chance I had. I could’ve prevented all of this.”
His voice trails off, frustration dripping from every word. I can see the guilt in his eyes, a deep, unyielding weight pressing on him.
“No one could have known what he’d do,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “You can’t control everything, Ivan.”
The door to Nik’s room creaks open, and we both look over to see he’s watching us with a wry smile. “Listen to her, Ivan,” Nik says, his voice weaker than usual but laced with its familiar teasing edge. “She’s the only one around here with any sense. Maybe you should listen for once.”
Ivan raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, I see a hint of amusement break through his grim expression. He walks over to Nik’s bed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You think you’re an expert now?”
Nik chuckles, though the sound ends in a wince. “You’re the one who dragged me into this mess, boss. I get some say in what you should do next.”
I watch Ivan as he leans against the wall, his face weary, eyes shadowed with days of little sleep and too much worry. I take a small step closer, my voice gentle but firm. “You won’t be any use to him if you collapse.”
He looks at me, his expression unreadable, as if he’s weighing the decision with a gravity that speaks volumes. Finally, he nods, a faint hint of gratitude softening his gaze. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice low. “But only a few hours.”
“Good,” I say, and watch as he turns and disappears into the side room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension.
I pull a chair close to Nik’s bed, the hum of machines a faint background as I settle into the seat beside him. He looks at me, a bit of a smirk touching his lips despite the pain I know he’s in. I take a breath, feeling a wave of guilt press down on me.
“Nik…” I hesitate, glancing down at my hands before finding his eyes again. “I’m so sorry. I can’t help but feel responsible for all of this.”
Nik shakes his head slowly, a hint of exasperation crossing his face. “Unless you planted the bomb, Cathy, this isn’t on you,” he says, his voice a mixture of frustration and kindness. “Believe me, Ivan and I know the risks. This is the life we lead, and none of this is your fault.”
“But if it weren’t for me, Jimmy wouldn’t—” I start, but he cuts me off with a soft chuckle.
“Jimmy would’ve found a reason,” he says, his gaze sharpening. “And besides… I’ve never seen Ivan so invested.” His voice grows softer, almost thoughtful. “You’re the first light that house has seen in years. Maybe the only one who can get through to him.”
I blink, absorbing his words, a strange warmth spreading in my chest. “You really think that?”
Nik’s smile is faint but genuine. “Oh, I know it. I can see it. And you’re not responsible for Jimmy’s actions, Cathy. You’re responsible for yours—and I’d say you’re doing pretty damn well.” He winks, and despite everything, I feel a small smile tug at my lips.
“Thank you, Nik,” I say softly, my voice laced with gratitude. He closes his eyes with a sigh, settling back, and I sit beside him, letting his words linger in my mind, a strange comfort taking hold.
Ivan appears at the door a moment later. “I thought I said rest,” I tell him but he holds my phone out toward me.
“It’s for you,” he says, his tone flat and guarded.
I take the phone from him, frowning, and lift it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Morosov,” a voice says, formal yet polite. “This is Robert Lennox, the executor of your father’s estate.”
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. “Executor of… I’m sorry, my father’s estate?”
“Yes,” he continues, sounding surprised by my reaction. “I apologize for the delay but the paperwork took some time to sort. I’m calling to confirm the access details for your inheritance.”
I glance at Ivan, my mind reeling. My throat tightens, and my words come out in a near whisper. “My inheritance?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before the man clears his throat. “Mrs. Morosov, I was under the impression that your husband had informed you of the process. He asked me to transfer your father’s estate into a secure account in your name the moment you two got married. He wanted to make sure only you had access to it. I’ve finished the paperwork now so it’s all ready for you.”
I swallow hard, glancing at Ivan, but he only watches me with that intense, unreadable gaze. “How much is in the account exactly?”
The man’s response is immediate, precise. “As of today, the cash balance is $22.4 million.”
I go still, my breath catching in my throat. Twenty-two million. It’s more than I could have ever imagined, a number that seems almost unreal.
My gaze flies to Ivan, still reeling from the revelation. His expression is calm, unbothered, as though this is just another detail, another task he’s managed behind the scenes. But in his eyes, I catch a glimmer of something that looks suspiciously like satisfaction, a knowing look that tells me he’s fully aware of the impact this is having on me.
The call ends shortly after, and I hand his phone back to him, my fingers trembling slightly as I try to process everything.
Ivan’s stare never wavers, as if waiting for me to say something, to acknowledge what he’s done. But words fail me—I’m swimming in shock, gratitude, and a sense of wonder at the side of him I never saw coming.
Nik clears his throat from the hospital bed, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I’d say it’s time you two had a little talk. I’ll be here catching up on Stranger Things,” he says, his smirk breaking some of the tension. “You seen it? The Russians turn out to be the bad guys. Never seen that on TV before, have you?”