Chapter 22 #2
"It's nothing. Just a scrape from last night." Igor brushed it off, not explaining more. "Right now, we've got bigger things to deal with."
I looked up at him, and his eyes had gone cold again—deadly cold.
He made sure his jacket was wrapped tight around me, then stood up and strode over to Marco, who was struggling to his feet, swaying like a drunk.
Marco wiped the blood from his forehead, steadying himself.
When he saw Igor coming, fear flashed in his eyes, but it twisted quickly into this manic grin.
"You're too late, Russian." He spat out a glob of blood. "One more minute, and I'd have already—"
His words cut off with a brutal punch. Igor's fist smashed into his face, and I heard the clear crack of bone. Marco flew back, but Igor didn't let up. He grabbed Marco's collar, hauled him up, and slammed another fist right into his mouth. The sound made my teeth ache.
"You dared to touch my woman," Igor growled, each word like a hammer, landing a punch with every one.
A hit to the gut—Marco doubled over, retching. A blow to the ribs—Marco let out this agonized scream.
"What gives you the right?" Marco coughed up more blood, but he was still laughing like a maniac. "You coward who ditched her! These past five years, I was the one with her! I took care of her when she was pregnant, and I was there when she gave birth. That was me! Not you!"
"So what?" Igor's voice was like a blade of ice. He smashed a fist into Marco's temple. "That means you get to rape her?"
"She's been mine for years!" Marco roared, his eyes wild. "I've taken care of her that long, given so much—this is what she owes me!"
Igor's hand clamped around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground and pinning him to the wall.
"She's mine forever. Everything about her belongs to me." His words came out like they were dragged straight from the pits of hell. "From the beginning, to the end—only mine."
Marco's face started turning blue. He thrashed like crazy, clawing at Igor's wrists, trying to pry off that iron grip. I saw Igor's fingers tightening, saw Marco's eyes starting to roll back white.
"I'm not anyone's property!"
My shout froze them both. I clutched the jacket around me and stood up, legs still wobbling, but I had to say it.
"I'm not yours, Igor." My voice shook, but I held it steady. "And I'm not Marco's. I'm my own person."
Igor turned to look at me, his hand still locked on Marco's neck.
"Igor, he's gonna die—let him go, now!"
I screamed it because Marco's face was already purple, his lungs clearly running out of air. But Igor didn't budge.
"No!" I lunged forward, grabbing his arm. "You can't kill him!"
"Why not? He just tried to rape you!" His eyes were full of confusion and fury. "I can see you don't love him. You had a kid with a guy you don't even love—I'm making sure he dies for that!"
I froze. I hadn't expected that reason. Yeah... I'd almost forgotten—Igor still thought Stella was Marco's!
"No. It's not like that, Igor." My voice trembled. "Stella's not Marco's daughter. These past five years, I never hooked up with him. Not once."
His hand stilled. His eyes went wide. "What?"
I took a deep breath and spilled the secret. "Stella's your daughter."
"What did you say?" His voice was barely a whisper, like he couldn't wrap his head around it.
"Stella's your daughter," I repeated, tears streaming down. "She's our kid, Igor."
His grip loosened, and Marco hit the floor in a heap, gasping for air like a busted bellows.
"My daughter?" Igor's voice cracked. "Stella's our daughter?"
"Yeah." I nodded, saying it again to make it real.
His face went through this whirlwind—shock, confusion, disbelief, and then pure, wild joy.
"These five years, Marco's been helping me take care of Stella. As her dad, you owe him his life for that. It's the least you can do." I turned to Marco. "I've always been grateful to you, Marco. But that doesn't give you the right to pull this shit on me like it's owed."
I stepped closer, looking down at this guy who'd once been the gentle doctor I knew, now a total stranger.
"Don't think I'm your property. All these years, while your grandma was sick and in the hospital, that was me taking care of her.
I treated her like my own grandma—cooking for her, chatting with her, getting up in the middle of the night to give her meds.
After that first year, I never took another dime from you.
I carried your load, just like you helped with Stella.
We're square, Marco. I don't owe you jack. "
Marco lay there on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth, his eyes empty.
Igor pulled out his phone and dialed. "Artyom, bring two guys over. Got some trash that needs handling."
Ten minutes later, Artyom showed up with his crew.
"Get him to the hospital," Igor said, cold as ice. "Make sure he lives."
He walked over to Marco, who was barely hanging on, and crouched down. I saw fresh fear flood Marco's eyes.
"Remember this. If you ever show your face near Elena again, if you so much as breathe near my daughter, next time you won't walk out alive."
Once they hauled Marco off, it was just me and Igor in the apartment. He turned to me, his eyes a mess of emotions—excitement, guilt, heartache. Then he strode over like he wanted to pull me into another hug. I stepped back on instinct.
He stopped short, hurt flashing in his eyes.
"You said everything about me belongs to you. But that's not right, Igor. I'm not your property." I said it calmly, even if my heart was pounding.
"You're right. I'm sorry, Elena. I fell back into old habits.
" His voice had this raw pain in it. "They drilled it into me growing up—the boss owns everything, controls everything.
But you're your own person, with your own thoughts, your own choices.
I've got no right to say you belong to me. But I'll change, Elena. I swear it."
I looked at him—this big, powerful mafia don, fumbling through an apology, begging like he was on his knees.
"Give me time." He pleaded. "Give me a shot to prove I can be better. Let me make it up to you, let me court you all over again. Please?"
"I'm wiped out. I just wanna go home and crash." I finally said, bone-tired.
He nodded, disappointment in his eyes, but understanding too. "Of course. I'll drive you."
In the car, we didn't say a word. I stared out at the blurring city lights, my head a total mess. Marco's betrayal and that crazy side of him—it shocked me, gutted me. And Igor's promises? They stirred something up, made my heart race, but left me spinning too.
When the car pulled up to my building, he grabbed my hand.
"Elena. Thank you for telling me about Stella." He said softly. "Now I wanna see her—as her dad. But I know I don't deserve it. I missed so much. And hell, I shouldn't have bulldozed my way into your apartment before—"
"Tomorrow." I cut him off. "Come over tomorrow night. You said last time you'd learn to cook, right? You can take care of her."
His eyes lit up like he'd won the lottery. "For real?"
"Yeah," I said. "But Igor, if you wanna be part of her life, you gotta respect her too. Spend real time with her, not just show up."
"I will. I swear, Elena." He rushed out the words. "I'll be a good dad. I'll learn, I'll change, I'll be the father she can brag about."
I looked into his eyes, and I saw the honesty there, the fire. It warmed me up, just a little.
"See you tomorrow." I popped the door and stepped out.
"Wait." He called after me.
I turned, and he was pulling a pharmacy bag from the back seat.
"Your cuts need ointment, regular applications," he said.
I took the bag—full of anti-inflammatory stuff and swelling creams, probably what he'd had his guys grab on the way.
"Thanks," I murmured.
Back in the apartment, Stella had just woken from her nap, rubbing her eyes as she climbed into my lap.
"Mommy, where'd you go? Why's your face all red?"
I touched my cheek—the slap mark from Marco was still there.
"Mommy took a tumble." I lied, hugging her tight. "Sweetie, tomorrow night's gonna be special. Someone's coming for dinner."
"Who?" She tilted her little head.
"Your daddy." My voice wobbled. "Igor—he's your real dad."
Her eyes went huge, then she broke into this big grin. "For real? I like Igor!"
I stared at my five-year-old, stunned at how quickly she rolled with it.
"Are you mad?" I asked. "That Mommy didn't tell you sooner?"
"Nope. Not mad at all. I'm just happy I got a daddy now." She threw her arms around my neck, all sweet and giggly. "Now we're a real family with Igor, right?"
I squeezed her tight, tears spilling over again.
"Yeah, baby," I whispered. "We'll be a family."
If Igor could really show he'd changed. If he could learn respect instead of possession. If he could step up as a solid dad, a partner I could trust. Then maybe... we'd actually make it as a happy little family.
But this time, I wasn't jumping at promises. I'd make damn sure Stella didn't get hurt. She's the priority—my whole world. And anyone wanting in on our life? They'd have to earn her love first. Even if that's her own dad.