Chapter Forty-seven
Dmitri Konstantinov
At some point, the therapist started making sense. The first half of the call felt like being interrogated by an overly polite civilian who charged for repeating obvious things. But after nearly an hour, she finally said something useful.
Inna wasn’t creating distance because she stopped caring.
She was building the wall before the damage arrived.
People have been leaving her since she was young, disappearing without warning, explanation, or even the decency to say goodbye first. Years of not knowing whether her parents were dead or alive trained her to expect abandonment.
Meeting her mother ripped the wound open again.
The therapist said people only reacted that way around someone whose loss would destroy them. According to her, the walls appeared around the people Inna loved most.
I leaned back in my chair.
So that was the problem.
Inna was protecting herself from me. She expected me to leave the way everyone else in her life eventually did. And according to the therapist, the only way through it was to make her certain I wasn’t going anywhere.
Where exactly would I go?
The woman walked into my life carrying stolen money, a little brother, and enough chaos to destabilize an organized crime syndicate.
Somewhere between threatening me, insulting me, and rearranging every room she entered, she turned my house into a place I actually wanted to return to.
I looked forward to hearing whatever reckless thing would come out of her mouth next.
Her brain never stopped moving. She attacked problems from angles most people didn’t even notice existed.
And somehow, in the middle of all that noise, she occupied every available space in my head.
Now I was canceling operations, calling therapists, and spending nights awake in a hammock like a man losing a war privately.
She was here. I was here. The idea of anywhere else barely made sense.
But the therapist was right about one thing. Words weren’t enough. People always used words before they disappeared. Promises meant nothing to someone whose entire life proved otherwise. It had to be something she could feel repeatedly until her brain stopped preparing for loss every second.
I checked my watch. I had been in the office for nearly two hours. Had she eaten breakfast?
I stood to go find her, but Akim entered after knocking once. He walked straight to my desk and carefully placed two photographs down.
“This man has been circling the hotel for two days.” He tapped the first picture. “The trail leads back to Iker.”
I looked at the photograph. “I bought that hotel specifically to control movement through it. How does the same man appear twice?”
“I’ve already dealt with the reception staff,” Akim said. “My suggestion is to move Mr. Anderson to a safe house.”
“Iker thinks Luigi hid him there. If the father stays where he is, Iker reads it as bait. That means he’s nervous enough to test the perimeter himself.” I moved around the desk. “Leave it. He isn’t awake yet?” I asked.
“I texted you last night. He woke up.”
I stopped walking and looked at him. “You text me information like that?”
Akim straightened. “I apologize, boss.”
“That is my wife’s father.” Irritation settled low in my voice. “You call me when there is information about him.”
“Yes, boss.”
I exhaled. Would Inna even agree to see him after everything? “I arranged the meeting with Iker. Before that, we move on to Zachary. I sent the next approach to your email.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Make sure—” The office door swung open before I finished.
A maid stepped inside with her head lowered. Her breathing came too fast, her hands pressed tightly together as if she expected punishment for interrupting.
“Sir.” She swallowed hard. “Your wife. She passed out. I didn’t know she was drinking. I found her and I—”
I was already moving. “Where?”
“Upstairs, sir.”
I took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor and pushed through the crowd gathered in the sitting area. Caitlin immediately got up from the floor where she had been holding Inna. Four empty whiskey bottles were scattered nearby.
Shit.
I dropped to my knees beside her and lifted her head carefully. “Inna.” Her face had gone pale beneath the sweat clinging to her skin. Dried tear tracks marked both cheeks. “Inna.”
“I’ve called the doctor,” Grandma said somewhere behind me.
I slid my arms under Inna and carried her to the bedroom. Her body felt limp against my chest. I laid her on the bed and pushed the damp strands of hair away from her face.
“Tell the doctor to hurry.” I didn’t look toward the doorway when I said it.
I went into the bathroom, soaked a towel in cold water, and returned. She was burning. I pressed the towel against her forehead, then moved down her face and neck.
The doctor arrived minutes later and moved straight to the bed.
I stepped aside enough to let him work while keeping my eyes on Inna. Grandma entered quietly after him and stayed near the foot of the bed, watching everything in silence for once.
I should have stayed with her. The thought kept circling through my head like a punishment. While I sat downstairs building plans and discussing operations, she was up here drinking herself unconscious alone. Two hours away from her were enough for disaster.
The doctor reached for the oxygen mask, and something cold settled low in my chest. I moved closer.
“So?” I asked.
He continued working while he spoke. “She drank heavily on an empty stomach. The alcohol irritated the stomach lining, and combined with the quantity consumed, it suppressed the central nervous system. The pain likely triggered the collapse. Right now, the alcohol is what’s keeping her unconscious. ”
“How bad is it?”
“Her vitals should stabilize.” He adjusted the IV line carefully.
“The immediate concern is metabolism. With the amount she consumed, I’d expect deep sedation for at least six to ten hours, possibly longer depending on her metabolism.
I’ve managed the dehydration and pain response.
We monitor from here and watch for complications like vomiting, blood sugar drops, respiratory issues, anything secondary that develops. ”
I looked back at Inna while he spoke. I already knew this. Her body couldn’t tolerate alcohol because of the gastritis. She knew it too. Which meant she drank because whatever was in her head felt worse than what the alcohol would do to her body.
“It’s good Anita found her sooner,” Grandma said quietly beside me. “I kept wondering why she wasn’t downstairs for breakfast.”
She drank up here deliberately. On a floor with limited access. Somewhere hidden enough that nobody would easily interrupt her.
And I kept a fully stocked bar in the same space. The drinks sat there, inviting enough that one couldn’t resist.
I walked back into the sitting area. The maids moved aside immediately when they saw my face. I looked at the bar, then at the nearest maid.
“Clear this bar.” I moved toward the shelves, grabbed one of the whiskey bottles, and hurled it across the room. “Get rid of everything. Now!”
Everyone moved faster. “Yes, sir.”
I picked up another empty bottle from the floor and stared at it. Most men couldn’t handle more than two glasses of that whiskey without feeling it. Inna drank four fucking bottles on an empty stomach.
My jaw tightened.
I got up from the sofa and crossed to the bed the moment I noticed Inna shift beneath the blankets. She turned her face toward me slowly as consciousness returned in pieces. She has been out for twelve fucking hours.
“Hey.” I reached out and touched her face.
She looked present but not fully assembled yet, her eyes drifting around the room, settling nowhere for long. I sat beside her on the bed as she pushed herself upright, her back resting against the headboard. I covered her hands with mine where they lay on her lap.
“You’re finally awake,” I said. “Didn’t we agree you weren’t allowed to drink?”
“I’m fine.”
“Of course you are. I don’t keep a doctor here for decoration.” I studied her face carefully, watching the color slowly return beneath the exhaustion. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.”
She was fine. She must have fallen in love with those two words. I nodded once and stood, moving toward the door.
The doctor stayed in the sitting area most of the day, checking on Inna every hour. At some point, he removed the oxygen mask and disconnected the IV. Caitlin was there too. She looked up immediately when I appeared.
“Examine her again,” I told the doctor. He nodded and headed inside. I turned to the maid. “Bring her food. Something light.”
“Yes, sir.” The maid bowed and left.
Caitlin stood quickly before I walked back to the room. “Can I see her?”
“Go ahead.”
She entered first, and I followed behind her. The doctor was already checking Inna’s pulse when I stopped near the bed. Caitlin sat beside her. “You scared me,” she said. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.”
I was beginning to hate those two words. Apparently, she had decided they could replace actual conversation entirely.
The doctor finished and turned toward me. “She’s stable. She’ll need medication, fluids, and light meals for the next day or two. Weakness is expected, but medically everything looks good.”
I nodded and dismissed him. He left just as the maid returned, carrying a tray.
I moved toward the window and stayed there while Inna forced herself through a few bites of food. Caitlin helped by talking constantly in a low, careful voice about meaningless things.
Nearly an hour passed before the room was ours.
Inna took her medicine, pulled the blankets higher, and lay back down. I dragged a chair closer to the bed and sat beside her.
My hand moved to her hair, brushing the strands away from her face before tucking them behind her ear. My thumb stroked slowly across her cheek.
“You won’t be doing that again,” I said. “From now on, it’s water, milk, or fresh juice. Nothing else. I’m not negotiating on that.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that.” My thumb continued moving against her skin. “Where does it hurt?”
Her fingers tightened around the blanket, but she remained quiet.
“You aren’t supposed to put your husband through something like this.” My voice stayed low. “We need to discuss that.” I watched her carefully. “Is this what you do to the people you consider special?”
“Let’s end it.” The words came out barely above a breath, but they landed with enough weight to stop my hand mid-stroke against her cheek. She looked me in the eye this time and said it again. “Let’s end the marriage.”
I slowly pulled my hand away from her face and dragged it through my hair once. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” Her voice remained firm. “It was fake. It was always going to end.”
I didn’t answer.
The therapist warned me this could happen. At some point, Inna would decide that leaving first hurt less than waiting to be left behind. I dismissed that part because I thought I already understood Inna. Apparently, I didn’t.
“Cole and I will leave.” She began sliding the ring off her finger. “If you aren’t satisfied with the services I gave, I will pay you back eventually. Let’s just end it.” She held the ring out to me. “Let’s not do this anymore.”
Something cold moved through my chest. “You are sick.”
“I’m—”
“Fine?” I finished for her.
My eyes dropped to the ring resting between her fingers. A normal man probably would have pulled her into his arms and said something reassuring. Instead, a quiet laugh left me because apparently my mind processed emotional damage the same way it processed violence.
“Okay.” I took the ring from her fingers. “Let’s end it. But you’ll complete your treatment first,” I continued. “You stay here until the doctor clears you fully.”
The relief that crossed her face came too quickly, and her reaction irritated me.
I stood before I did something reckless, like drag her into my lap and kiss her until she remembered exactly who she belonged to.
“We won’t discuss this while you’re sick.” I stepped back from the bed. “Get some rest.”
I walked out before she answered, with no clear destination in mind.
The balcony doors slid open beneath my hand while my head replayed the way she handed me the ring. Reaching the railing overlooking the backyard below, I opened my fist.
The ring sat in my palm beneath the dim light. Such a small object. And somehow it made me feel like Inna shot me straight to my heart.
A scoff left my mouth before I threw it. The ring disappeared into the darkness below without a sound.
I gripped the balcony railing hard enough for the metal to bite into my palms as pressure built slowly beneath my ribs.
Inna offered to leave me so easily, as if I wasn’t already ruined enough.