Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Ivan
The traitor's body went cold. I ripped off my blood-soaked gloves and tossed them on a rotting cardboard box in the corner.
Sergei got away.
Didn't matter. We'd ID'd the traitor.
Dmitri stood beside me, holding out his phone. "New York confirmed. The owner's ready to sign."
I didn't respond.
I'd sent him to negotiate last week. Location, square footage, layout—I'd already signed off on it all.
"You're really going all in for her, huh? Nine out of ten girls from those places are just after the money."
I pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. The lighter flared.
Somehow, I didn't like him talking about Anna that way.
Even though I knew this bias was the default in our world—most girls who worked those clubs learned early to trade what they had for security.
Nobody's clean. Nobody's innocent.
But Anna wasn't like that.
I exhaled. Gray smoke drifted past my eyes, blurring the flickering light on the opposite wall.
"Shut it. Do your job."
Dmitri snorted, about to push it further, but my glare cut him off.
I threw him the phone. "Replace all the furniture. Everything new."
I headed out of the warehouse.
Evening air hit my face, carrying the smell of beer from the corner bar. Damp. Almost intoxicating.
I wanted to get home. Tell Anna the news.
She wouldn't be trapped in one house anymore.
I got home at dawn. A floor lamp glowed in the living room.
Victoria sat on the couch in a black silk nightgown, one strap slipping off her shoulder, hanging loose on her arm. Her legs crossed over the edge of the crystal coffee table like she was posing for a magazine cover.
"Ivan. You're back."
She shifted, leaning into the cushions. Her neckline dipped lower.
My stomach turned.
Back when Victoria and I weren't yet divorced, she'd pull this act every time she wanted something.
"Victoria. This isn't your place."
"What does that matter?"
Victoria stood, barefoot on the cold tile, her hem brushing my hand like a slippery snake.
She draped herself over my shoulder, fingers sliding down my shirt. "I'm better for you than that whore you bought, aren't I?"
Whore?
She was calling Anna a whore?
Rich. A woman who'd betrayed her marriage calling someone else a whore.
I turned my head and shoved her hand off my shoulder.
"Get out. This isn't your breeding ground."
Victoria froze.
The seduction cracked, twisted into something bitter. "Ivan, stop pretending. Those trashy mistresses can't know you better than I do."
"She's not a mistress!"
Rage exploded in my chest.
I was sick of people using degrading terms to insult Anna.
She wasn't a mistress. She wasn't some club girl trading dignity for cash. She was my woman.
Even if this thing between us started all wrong, no outsider had the right to trash her.
"She's not a mistress? Then she's vicious! You forget what she did to Nadia?" Victoria's voice rose. "Ivan, wake up. We're family—"
"Not anymore." I cut her off. "Victoria, I'm wide awake. We stopped being family the second you rolled into bed with my best friend."
I had no idea how she had the nerve to stand here and say "we're family."
She'd betrayed this family. Hurt both Nadia and me. While she was living it up on my dime, Nadia was curled in my arms, asking where Mommy went.
She had zero right to question me.
Victoria's face went pale. It took her a long time to choke out, "I just made a mistake. Why won't you forgive me?"
She covered her face and sobbed, shoulders shaking.
Watching her, I felt nothing.
I knew a girl who never used tears to buy pity. Who was afraid to let anyone see her cry. Who swallowed every ounce of hurt behind gritted teeth.
She was stubborn. Unbreakable. Like a branch that bent but refused to snap.
I didn't look at Victoria again. I turned toward the stairs.
"You're going to her? She's gone!" Victoria screamed behind me. "She cleaned out the room before she left—took everything she could carry. Ivan, don't you get it? She's greedy. A thief!"
I spun around. "What do you mean she's gone?"
Who was gone?
Anna?
No. She'd promised to follow my plan.
But a cold voice in my head answered—when has the kitten ever really obeyed? When she was cornered, she tried to jump off a balcony.
I bolted up the stairs toward her room.
The guest room door hung open.
I pushed it wider. The closet gaped empty. The few outfits Anna wore regularly—gone. The nightstand was bare. The novel she'd been reading, halfway through, vanished from the desk.
Everything tidy. Like she'd never been here at all.
She really left.
No message. Just disappeared.
I sat on the bed. The sheets still held a trace of laundry detergent, faint and fading into the air—the last shred of proof she'd existed here.
Anna.
Why did she leave?
I'd felt it. She had feelings for me. Every night together, we'd fit. Her responses didn't lie.
But she still left. Without even saying goodbye.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then forced them open.
Footsteps outside the door.
"Daddy."
I turned. Nadia stood in the doorframe. Barefoot. Eyes red. She'd been crying.
I waved her over. She came, her small body pressed against my leg, head down, voice muffled. "Daddy, I'm sorry. I couldn't stop Anna from leaving."
I kissed her forehead. "Not your fault, baby."
"Yes, it is—" Tears spilled down Nadia's face. "It's my fault because I helped Mommy lie..."
"Hey! Nadia!"
Victoria's footsteps hammered up the stairs, sharp and frantic.
She burst into the room and grabbed Nadia's arm. "Stop talking nonsense. Don't bother your father!"
Nadia stumbled forward, chin knocking into my knee with a dull thud.
I caught Victoria's wrist and squeezed. She winced, tried to pull away. Couldn't.
"What lie did you make Nadia tell?"
Victoria forced a smile. It clung to her face like a cracked mask.
Her eyes trembled.
She was guilty as hell.
"Ivan, are you crazy? The kid doesn't know what she's saying. You're taking it seriously?"
She let go of Nadia and snapped at her. "See? Because you're running your mouth, Daddy and Mommy are fighting again!"
Nadia burst into tears, her whole body shaking.
I released Victoria's wrist and pulled Nadia behind me. Her fingers clutched my shirt, sobs wracking her small frame. It tore at me.
I crouched down and cupped her wet face, wiping away the tears.
"Baby, don't be scared. Daddy's here. No one's going to hurt you."
But I already knew.
Anna's situation—Victoria was behind it. Even Nadia had been used as a tool.
"Victoria. I'm giving you time to leave. Don't make me do something in front of my daughter."
Victoria stepped back.
She bit her lip, twisting her dress, voice shaking. "Ivan, you're kicking me out for that woman? We've known each other for years, I'm still your—"
"One."
I didn't want to hear it. I started counting.
"Oh no! Ivan! Nadia is our daughter. She needs a complete—"
"Two."
Victoria knew me. She knew better than anyone that when I hit three, all bets were off. Her lips quivered. Finally she shot Nadia a vicious glare, turned, and stormed out.
The door slammed downstairs.
Nadia's sobs quieted to hiccups.
I carried her to the couch and poured her warm milk.
She held it, fingers still trembling.
"Take your time," I sat beside her, didn't push. "If you don't want to talk today, you don't have to."
Nadia clutched the warm cup and looked up, choking on her words. "Mommy hit me. She made me lie about Anna. Made me drive her away. She said Anna would ruin our family."
My heart clenched.
Anna's hurt. The fingerprints on Nadia's arm. Victoria crying to me with red eyes.
Every frame played back in slow motion.
I was such an idiot for doubting Anna.
Remembering the warmth dying in her eyes made my throat tighten.
"Daddy, did I do something wrong? But I was scared Mommy would hit me. I was so scared."
I pulled my daughter into my arms. "No, baby. You didn't do anything wrong. I did. Victoria did. Daddy didn't protect you. Or Anna."
Nadia buried her face in my chest. Fresh tears soaked my shirt.
My stomach felt like someone had punched it. Twisting. Sinking.
Anna... Anna...
When Nadia finally cried herself out, she fell asleep against me. Looking at her tear-stained face, the regret only got heavier. If I'd caught Victoria's hostility sooner, maybe no one would've gotten hurt.
But there were no do-overs.
I carried Nadia back to her bedroom.
She rolled over, cheek nuzzling the pillow, mumbling something in her sleep. I didn't catch it.
I closed the door and went to my study.
The call rang a long time before Dmitri picked up. "Boss? What's up?"
"Find someone for me."
"Boss, we just dealt with the traitor. It's rest time."
"I need to find this person."
Silence for two seconds. Then a knowing laugh. "Don't tell me—the sweetheart from the auction?"
I didn't answer.
Dmitri was fully awake now. "She actually ran?"
"Search. Every station. Airport. Highway exit. All of them."
I hung up and set the phone on the desk. My palm was sweating.
I looked down and noticed a Post-it note under the edge of the desk.
Outside, pale morning light swept past the corner of my eye.
My heart twisted.
What was she feeling when she left?
I couldn't guess.
But I knew one thing—she probably wasn't coming back.