Chapter 16Damir
16
Damir
I sit at my desk, flipping through the fifty-page dossier Anton’s team compiled on Casey Harris. The leather of my chair creaks as I lean back, scanning the juvenile records that should have remained sealed. Nothing stays hidden from me when I want information.
“Petty theft at fourteen,” I mutter, tracing my finger down the page. “Shoplifting electronics. Stealing from classmates.”
The pattern is clear even in his youth. Casey takes what doesn’t belong to him. I trace my finger over a particularly telling incident, where he stole a laptop from the school computer lab. He served three months in juvie for that one. My people managed to acquire the sealed records confirming it.
I turn to the next section, spreading the academic records across my mahogany desk. The paper feels crisp beneath my fingertips as I examine his college transcript. Red ink highlights a sea of poor grades.
“Mediocrity at best,” I say, scanning the columns. “C-minus in organic chemistry, D in calculus, barely passing his core classes.”
His medical school performance makes me shake my head in disbelief. The contrast between him and Elena couldn’t be starker. “Failed anatomy,” I read aloud, tapping the damning F on his transcript. The corner of my mouth curls into a sneer. “Barely passed biochemistry with a D-plus.”
The final note catches my attention. It’s a withdrawal form dated halfway through his first semester, with a single line explaining he “wasn’t meeting academic standards.” I can almost picture him, shoulders slumped, slinking away from the challenge rather than fighting harder.
I close the file with a decisive snap. The man Elena once loved wasn’t just a thief. He was a fraud, who couldn’t even maintain the illusion of competence.
Anton strides into the office, shoulders relaxed beneath his fitted black Henley, two steaming cups balanced in his grip. The sling is gone now, and he’s well on the mend. The aroma of dark-roast coffee precedes him, cutting through the musty scent of old paperwork. He sets one cup on my desk, careful to avoid the scattered files.
“Anything interesting?” He nods at Casey’s transcript, the hint of a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Everything is interesting.” I tap my finger against the damning file, the paper crackling beneath my touch. “He’s a parasite. Always has been.”
Anton settles into the chair across from me with a nod. His eyes narrow with predatory focus, like a wolf who’s caught a scent. “Wait until you get to the financial section.”
Curiosity piqued, I flip forward through the file, pages whispering against each other. My gaze sweeps over meticulously organized bank statements, credit reports splashed with red flags, and a detailed timeline that makes my stomach twist.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, scanning the list of women—five before Elena—with each name accompanied by dates, initial net worth, and final financial status. All financially stable when they met him. All left with significantly less money after he vanished.
“His first mark…he was barely eighteen to her fifty, and she was his foster mother’s best friend?” Anton nods as I grimace. If I couldn’t see what a swindler he is, I’d wonder at the woman’s lack of discernment and common sense, but a con artist can con just about anyone.
I trace a pattern of destruction across years, a predator’s hunting ground mapped in numbers and names. “He didn’t just stumble into Elena’s life. This was calculated. A professional con, just like we suspected.”
“He has a type,” says Anton, sipping his coffee. “Independent women with money and no family to interfere.”
I nod, continuing through the file until I reach the text message transcripts. These make my blood run cold.
Elena: I don’t think adding you to my account is necessary. We can keep finances separate.
Casey: Don’t you trust me? We’re living together. It’s what couples do.
Elena: I just prefer keeping things separate. My mom always taught me to maintain financial independence.
Casey: Your mom isn’t here anymore, and I’m not her. I thought we were building something together.
I flip through more exchanges, watching the manipulation unfold over months. Casey never directly asked for money. He was smarter than that. Instead, he worked on her insecurities, made her feel guilty for not trusting him, and positioned himself as the victim.
Elena: I’m sorry for being difficult about the bank account. You’re right, we’re partners.
Casey: It’s okay, babe. I just want what’s best for us. This way I can help with bills when you’re busy with rotations.
“He knew exactly what he was doing,” I say, looking up at Anton.
“Keep reading.” Anton leans forward. “The timeline shows he researched her mother’s death and the inheritance before they even started dating. It started right after she treated him in the ER following his ‘mugging.’ He targeted her deliberately after that. We knew it, but now, there’s proof.”
I turn to the surveillance photos. Casey with another woman at a hotel, dated just two weeks before he cleaned out Elena’s accounts. The woman is blonde, flashy, and wearing expensive clothes Elena could never afford on a student budget that she maintained to ensure her inheritance covered her education without resorting to loans.
“Who’s she?” I ask.
“Tiffany Mendez. Cocktail waitress at The Royal Flush Casino. One of Nikolai’s places. They’ve been seeing each other for months. She thought Casey was single.”
I close the file, my jaw tight. “And now he wants Elena back.”
“Maybe, or maybe, he’s doing what Nikolai tells him. Either way, he’s desperate,” says Anton. “He blew through her money in three months. Gambling debts, luxury purchases, and trips with Tiffany in addition to paying off our casino and some of what he owed Nikolai. Now Nikolai’s people are pressuring him to earn his keep. I haven’t found proof yet, but I’m sure what we think is true is the case. He’s noticed the former connection between your wife and the piece of shit, so he’s putting him in position to get information or whatever from or about Elena to get to you.”
“So, he comes crawling back to Elena, hoping she’ll take him back, but she doesn’t. Or, he projects that as his intent to get close to her again to do Nikolai’s bidding?” I don’t like either option and intend to put a stop to this immediately.
“Because she’s with you.” Anton studies me. “What are you planning to do with him?”
“Nothing yet. I want Elena to see him for what he is first. She knows, but now, she can see the proof.” I give him a crooked smile. “She’s already asked me to destroy him, up to the point of death. I can’t kill him, but that’s her only limit.”
“Then we have our work ahead of us. Good times destroying garbage like that one.”
I nod at his grin while walking to the safe hidden behind a moderately priced painting on my office wall, chosen so it doesn’t stand out or garner attention. Moving it aside, I enter the combination. “I have something for her.”
The safe clicks open, and I remove a small velvet box. Inside rests a necklace with a delicate platinum chain and emeralds surrounded by diamonds in a vintage setting.
Anton’s eyes widen. “Is that?—”
“My mother’s. One of the last things she sold before selling me.”
Anton knows the story. Everyone in my inner circle does. My parents sold everything of value to cover my father’s gambling debts, including me, eventually. This necklace was one of the first things to go.
“How did you find it?” asks Anton.
“Fifteen years of searching. It passed through seven owners before I tracked it down in Paris.” I slip the box into my pocket. “I bought it back five years ago.”
“And you’re giving it to Elena?”
“Not giving. Marking.” I meet his gaze. “She needs to understand what protection means.”
Anton nods slowly. “She’s not property, Damir.”
“No.” I look out at the city again. “She’s more valuable than property.” I look up at him again. “That’s why this necklace has a tracking chip in it.”
He frowns. “I understand your position, but will she? Tagging her seems like something you’d do to a pet.”
I shake my head, dismissing his concerns, though part of me thinks he’s probably right in some regard. A bittersweet memory of Sasha flashes through my mind, and I force it away. Dwelling on having to say goodbye to my beautiful husky always brings unwelcome emotions to the surface, along with bitter resentment toward my parents, who sold her shortly before they sold me. “We protect pets because we cherish them. It’s the same with wives.”
He snorts softly but doesn’t continue arguing. “You’re going to tell her about the chip, right?”
I don’t bother to answer, which is an answer on its own. He snorts again. “Allergies?” I ask coldly.
“Yeah, to bullshit.” With that, he takes his coffee and leaves me to my silence and grim contemplation as I continue digging through Casey’s file. There’s nothing else too shocking, but it paints a picture of a loser who never takes responsibility. That’s about to change.
That evening, I wait in our penthouse. The velvet box sits on the coffee table, centered perfectly. I hear the elevator doors open, then Elena’s footsteps. She drops her bag by the door and kicks off her shoes.
“Damir?” she calls, spotting me in the living room.
“How was your day?” I ask, watching her closely.
“Exhausting. Twelve-hour rounds and two emergency surgeries I got to observe. Dr. Patel let me close on the second one.” She notices the box on the table. “What’s that?”
I gesture toward it. “Open it.”
Elena approaches cautiously, picking up the box. She opens it and inhales sharply at the sight of the emeralds and diamonds. “I can’t accept this,” she says immediately, closing the box and setting it back down. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not a gift,” I say, standing.
“Then what is it?” She crosses her arms.
“Insurance.” I move behind her, taking the box and removing the necklace. “My mother wore this before I was born.”
Elena stiffens. “Your mother? The one who?—”
“Sold me to the bratva . Yes.” I unclasp the necklace. “She sold this first, to cover my father’s debts. Then she sold other things. Eventually, she sold me.”
Elena turns to face me. “Why would you want me to wear something with such painful memories?”
“Turn around,” I say softly.
She hesitates, then turns. I brush aside her hair, grazing her neck as I place the necklace against her throat. The clasp clicks shut. “I spent fifteen years tracking this down.” I rest my hands on her shoulders. “I found it in Paris, owned by a jeweler who had no idea of its history.”
I guide her to the mirror on the wall, standing behind her as she sees herself wearing the emeralds. They complement her dark hair and eyes perfectly.
“Why give it to me?” she asks, meeting my gaze in the reflection.
“Because you need to understand something.” I touch the necklace, my fingers brushing her collarbone. “What was taken from me, I reclaim. What belongs to me, I protect.”
Her eyes flash with defiance. “I don’t belong to you.”
“No?” I smile slightly. “Then take it off.”
She raises her hand to the clasp, hesitates, then drops it again. Her gaze never leaves mine in the mirror.
“I read Casey’s file today. Every message he sent you. Every lie he told. Every time he manipulated you into giving him what he wanted.”
Her shoulders tense. “That’s private.”
“Nothing about you is private to me anymore.” I turn her to face me. “He knew about your inheritance before you accepted the first date with him. Did you know that? He researched your mother’s death, and the trust she set up for you, after you tended to him in the ER.”
Elena’s face pales. “I suspected it after the events that happened, but you have proof?”
“Yes. You officially met in a class he deliberately enrolled in to meet you, where he recognized you as the physician who treated him after he was ‘mugged.’” I take the file from the side table, opening it to the section on their first meeting. “He approached three other wealthy female students before you, but none of them were interested.”
She takes the file, scanning the pages. “This is thorough.”
“Keep reading.”
She flips through pages, stopping at the photos of Casey with Tiffany. Her hand trembles slightly. “Who is she?”
“His girlfriend. They were together while he was living with you.”
Elena’s expression hardens. “When were these taken?”
“Two weeks before he emptied your accounts.”
She closes the file, handing it back to me. “Why show me this now?”
“Because you need to understand what he is.” I touch the necklace at her throat again. “And what I am.”
“I know what he is, and I want you to make him suffer…but what are you?” she challenges.
“Someone who protects what’s mine.” I step closer. “Someone who doesn’t lie about who they are or what they want.”
Her hand rises to the necklace, fingers tracing the emeralds. “This isn’t protection. It’s possession.”
“Is there a difference?” I ask.
“Yes.” She looks fierce and unafraid. “Protection is given freely. Possession is taken.”
“And which do you prefer, Elena?”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Her fingers still rest on the necklace, but she makes no move to remove it. “I prefer honesty,” she finally says. “Which you’ve given me. Casey never did.”
I nod, satisfied with her answer. “The necklace stays.”
“For now,” she concedes.
I smile slightly. “For as long as you’re mine.”
Her defiance flashes again. “And if I decide I’m not yours?”
“Then you’ll take it off and walk away.” I step back, giving her space. “But we both know you won’t.”
She turns back to the mirror, studying her reflection with the emeralds at her throat. “It is beautiful.”
“It was meant for you.” I watch her in the mirror. “Keep the file. Read it all. Know exactly who he is, and what he wanted from you.”
“And what do you want from me, Damir?” she asks, still looking at her reflection.
“Everything,” I answer honestly. “But unlike Casey, I’ll give you everything in return.”
She turns to face me, her expression unreadable. “Including the truth?”
“Always the truth.” I touch her face gently. “Even when it’s ugly.”
Elena nods, her hand rising once more to the necklace. This time, she doesn’t try to remove it. Instead, she straightens it, accepting its weight against her skin. “I’ll read the file,” she says, her voice steady despite the emotional weight of what she’s just learned. “All of it.” Her fingers tighten around the manila folder’s edge, creasing it slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind about you destroying him.”
“I didn’t think you had, but maybe you’ll decide to remove your own limitation.”
She gives me a ghost of a smile. “I can’t condone murdering him.”
“Maybe not. Either way, he’ll suffer.”
She smiles in satisfaction. “Good.”
I step away, giving her the space she needs. The wooden floor creaks beneath my shoes when I move toward the doorway. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. Just pasta, nothing fancy.”
I leave her standing there, the emeralds catching the light at her throat with every breath she takes. The file rests in her hands. It’s Casey’s betrayal documented in black and white. Through the doorway, I glance back once. She hasn’t moved, tried to remove the necklace again, or rushed to follow me.
I’m not worried. The kitchen calls to me, and I let her have this moment alone with her thoughts. Some decisions can’t be rushed. Some truths need time to settle. I doubt she’ll agree to let me kill Casey. There’s no long-term value in that, but after seeing the facts laid out before me, I’d like nothing more than to end his miserable life. If she won’t relent, I’ll have to settle for giving him a long, painful lesson.
Either way, she’ll never consider going back to him, especially once she knows everything about him. She’s with me and will stay that way, because unlike Casey, I’ve given her the one thing she values most, which is the truth. Ugly and unvarnished, but honest. In a world built on lies, honesty is the rarest currency of all.