Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maron
"Don’t worry Pakhan ," Igor says. "We’ll handle this,"
He’s slouched in my office on the couch with a cigar between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily up to the ceiling. His hand shakes slightly as he lifts it to his lips and he taps the ash off a little too often. I can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his foot bounces lightly against the floor. I am making him tense and I can’t really blame him. He should be anxious after a shitshow like this.
"Just how the fuck do you plan to handle this, Igor?" I snap. I’m pacing like a caged animal, clenching and unclenching my fists as I walk. "She’s on fucking national TV, Igor. Morning shows, CNN, Fox. The whole fucking country is watching her!"
Igor shakes his head and leans forward. "With all due respect, pakhan ... you’re Maron Korolev. You can hire the best lawyers in the country. And I’m confident that my team and I are close to finding a legal replacement for astoasium."
"Then fucking find it, Igor!" I roar.
By the time Igor leaves my office, I regain a sense of control. Maybe he’s got a point. With the best lawyers on our side, we can keep the press at bay until we adjust the formula. Then we can resume business without a having herd of journalists knocking on our door, fishing for the next headline like hungry vultures.
I sink back into my chair, taking a slow swig of the scotch in my hand, letting its warm burn anchor me. Just as I finish the glass, I hear a sharp knock at the door.
"Enter," I call out. Pavel pokes his head through the doorway and moves into the room with a crumpled newspaper clutched under one arm.
"Morning, boss."
"Morning, Pavel. Before you tell me why you’re darkening my doorstep, have a drink with me."
Pavel’s face brightens. He loves his booze. "What’s the occasion?"
"No occasion." I pour us both a glass and we clink them together. " Na zdarovye. "How is your wife doing?" I inquire.
Pavel drains the last of his scotch in one swift gulp, then sets the empty glass down. "Getting there, boss. She’ll be on steroids for a while." He looks at me. "The bonus you gave me helped a lot."
"Good," I tell him. "That’s what money is for. And now, tell me why you came and what’s that paper doing in your armpit."
Pavel mutters something under his breath, tossing the newspaper onto my desk with a thud. He glances at me, expectant, as if he’s bracing himself. "Hate to be the one to break it to you, boss," he says.
I sit up straight, my eyes locking onto the headline on the front page. My goddamn heart almost stops.
"Tramoxine Claims Another Victim: 27-Year-Old New York Woman Found Dead
In a tragic development, Eva Anderson, 27, the twin sister of renowned psychiatrist Dr. Rachel Anderson, was discovered dead at her sister’s home. Initial reports confirm that the cause of death was Tramoxine, an over-the-counter medicine that has already claimed multiple lives across the nation.
Tramoxine, frequently purchased to treat common mental health conditions, has become a growing concern for law enforcement and public health officials. Despite efforts to curb its distribution, it continues to wreak havoc, leaving a trail of fatalities in its wake. Miss Anderson’s death underscores the urgent need for more aggressive action towards substance regulation…
I raise my gaze to meet Pavel’s. "Shit," is all I say.
His expression is somber. "Sorry, boss. Eva was a good woman."
I release a heavy breath and give a slight nod. "Thanks for telling me, Pavel. I'll take it from here."
After Pavel leaves, I quickly down another glass of scotch and squint at the article again. My ex is dead. Which is not good. Guilt begins to gnaw at me. I know exactly where she had those pills from. Maybe if I hid the keys to my safe more carefully…
Blyad!
It doesn’t matter now. She was an adult woman and she made her own choices. I’m not her babysitter and I never was. But what concerns me is who wrote this garbage? Maybe Alexis Williams? Maybe this has something to do with the fact that Mindy is back in my life?
I scan the small print, but the name doesn’t ring a bell. Alright, it’s not Alexis Williams. But that doesn’t make this fiasco any less frustrating.
Thinking about Alexis makes me remember Mindy.
Stop it, Korolev.
But the memories are flooding back. The sound of her laughter, the way she’d cling to me in bed on lazy mornings, her sharp tongue. Damn it, I still ache for her. It’s like a knife being constantly twisted in my chest.
Stop this bullshit, dolboyob!
She betrayed you twice in one lifetime!
I shake my head, trying to push these toxic thoughts away. The sting of her betrayal blends with the yearning, creating a dangerous concoction of emotions I can't afford to feel.
I can’t allow her to plague my mind like she did before.
Not again.