Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Roman & Leah
Roman
The phone vibrated half an hour ago.
Photos from Sergei. One after another.
Leah standing in an alley, kissing Trent against the wall. Then Trent's hand, gently resting on her belly—caressing the child I knew damn well wasn't mine, but was still willing to accept.
I stared at that photo. Stared until the screen went dark.
I could hear it clearly—something in my chest, shattering.
Since Leah entered my world, I'd never stopped the surveillance. Never.
Even knowing everything about her, I'd chosen to believe. I knew about Trent's debts, knew he was working for Dmitri now, knew about all those dirty deals.
But I kept telling myself Leah was clueless. Just an innocent woman trapped by a bastard ex. She had no idea about Dmitri's schemes.
Today's secret meeting destroyed that delusion.
Why did she deliberately ditch security to "see Harper" when she was really meeting the ex she claimed to hate?
Why was she kissing him? Why were her hands on his shoulders? Why did she let him touch her belly?
Dmitri's hint from that phone call coiled through my brain like a viper, questioning me over and over.
Had she never gotten over Trent?
Or worse—had she been Dmitri's plant from the start? Just here on assignment. Never planning a future with me. Never intending to let me be that child's father.
At dusk, her silhouette appeared in the doorway. Hair messed up, expression panicked and exhausted in a way I couldn't quite read.
I didn't move.
Just sat there, waiting for her to approach. Waiting for her to lie. Waiting for that beautiful mouth to spin lie after lie.
Just like another woman had, five years ago.
"Roman?" Her voice came soft, tentative. "You're waiting for me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
I didn't answer right away. Just stood, walking toward her slowly.
Every step took restraint—restraint not to grab her throat and force out the truth, restraint not to pin her against the wall and demand whether she loved me at all.
"Where were you today?" My voice nearly trembled.
"I told you." She sighed, exhaustion crossing her face like I was some annoying pest. "I saw Harper."
"And?"
I stopped in front of her, looking down, watching her eyes start to dodge.
"What?"
I stood over her, watching the caught-in-the-act panic on her face, watching her desperately try to hide what she couldn't hide.
"Leah. Who else did you see today?"
"You don't need to interrogate me like a criminal." Defense and anger crept into her voice. She turned away, took a deep breath, like she'd finally made some decision. "Fine. Yes. I ran into Trent today."
"And what did you do?"
She drew a breath, like she was organizing her words. Like she was weaving the perfect lie.
"Nothing."
I looked at her.
Watched her lie for another man.
I'd been ready—if she just came clean, I'd force myself to let it go. Just once. Maybe Trent cornered her. Maybe she had a moment of weakness.
I was prepared to forgive her—if she'd just tell me the truth.
But she chose deception.
Just like Irina.
I turned, grabbed the stack of photos from the table, and slammed them down in front of her. They scattered like snow, each one evidence of her betrayal, each one mocking my stupidity.
"Then what the fuck," I heard myself roar, the sound bouncing off the empty hall, "are these?"
I grabbed the top photo, shoved it across the table toward her.
In it, Trent's hand rested on her belly. Intimate. Like a husband checking on his wife, on his unborn child.
That should've been my place.
Leah
I stared at the photos scattered across the table.
Me in the alley, wrapped up with Trent.
From that angle, you couldn't see him choking me, pinning me against the wall. Just two people pressed close, his arm around me—looked like lovers meeting in secret, him tenderly holding me, stroking my belly.
The problem was—how did Roman have these photos?
"You've had me followed this whole time?" I heard myself say.
"Yes." Roman didn't dodge it. Almost righteous about it.
"Why?"
"Because I need to know where you are. What you're doing. Who you're seeing." No guilt in his voice. Like he was stating the most normal fact in the world. "To prevent exactly this—you kissing other men."
"Who took these photos? You'd rather believe fake pictures than believe me?"
As the words left my mouth, something squeezed my heart so tight I couldn't breathe.
"I don't trust anyone."
Never trusted me either. I heard the unspoken second half loud and clear. I see.
I'd never had a special place in his heart. Not once.
"I didn't betray you! Trent forced me! He choked me! He threatened me! You can ask Sergei!"
"Then why the fuck didn't you just tell me he threatened you? Who leans gently into their attacker's arms?" Roman cut me off.
He swept his arm across the side table—the glass, the half-empty bottle—everything crashed to the floor.
The sharp crack of breaking glass exploded through the hall, dark red wine splashing across the floor like a pool of blood.
"If you were really forced, why not tell me? Why say nothing happened?"
His explosion froze me.
I stared at him, speechless.
I'd never seen Roman like this.
But now—this man with violence rolling in his eyes, danger radiating from every inch of him—I suddenly understood.
Maybe this was who he really was.
"Because..." My voice stuck in my throat.
"Because what?" He kept coming, step by step, like a hunting predator.
"Because I was scared!" I finally shouted, tears spilling uncontrollably.
I was scared to bring up that woman again. That dead Irina.
Whether Trent was telling the truth or not—I didn't want to pour salt into that wound Roman had barely opened to me.
I didn't want to face this when my mind was such a mess.
"Because I didn't want you hurt even a little bit!" I screamed in anguish.
"Scared?" Roman laughed coldly, mockery and pain twisted together. "Scared of what? That I'd find out you rekindled things with your ex? Or that I'd realize you're Dmitri's plant?"
"What are you talking about?" I couldn't believe my ears. "You think I'm a spy?"
"You think I don't know?" Roman's voice went colder. "Trent works for Dmitri. And you—you just happen to have history with Trent. That's not a coincidence?"
"Of course it's a coincidence!" My voice cracked. "You think I'm a spy? You think getting close to you was premeditated? Roman, listen to yourself!"
"Then tell the truth!" Roman roared, the sound reverberating through the empty hall, making the crystal chandelier shake. "Tell me what Trent said! Tell me what you two talked about in that alley! Tell me why you looked so fucking intimate in those photos!"
I looked at him—at the rage compressed to its limit in his eyes, at the deep distrust, at that face I'd once found handsome but now looked strange and terrifying.
Watching him scream at me like this. Watching him trample everything between us into worthless dust—
Would I always be stuck by Roman's side? The moment this tyrant suspected anything, I'd be interrogated like a criminal? Slapped with every vicious accusation?
Something that had been strung tight inside me finally snapped.
"Fine. I'll tell you the truth."
I didn't care anymore. If he wanted to know, let's lay it all out.
I couldn't take being suspected like this by the man I loved.
"Trent told me you killed Irina. He said you'd kill me too, eventually."
Roman's expression froze instantly, like someone hit pause.
"That's what you wanted to know. What I didn't want to say." I kept going, tears streaming nonstop. "He said the whole New York underworld knows. Said I'm an idiot, kept in the dark, stupidly in love with a murderer."
The air solidified. Time seemed to stop.
"So you believed him, didn't you?" Roman finally spoke, his voice ice-cold, cold enough to make me shiver.
"I..."
"You believed him." He moved closer. I retreated instinctively, my back hitting the wall. "You believed the bastard who lied to you, sold you out, nearly got you killed—instead of believing me."
"Then tell me the truth!" I exploded, all my hurt and fear turning to fury. "Tell me how Irina really died!"
"You want to know? Fine. I'll tell you."
Roman paused, those dark eyes locked on mine—eyes that once held such tenderness, now dangerous enough to tear me apart.
Then Roman said, "Irina betrayed me. And she paid the price she deserved."
The air froze. My heart stopped.
"You... you really killed her?" My voice trembled, my whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
"If I had to do it again, I wouldn't hesitate." His voice went colder, like wind from hell. "I will never allow betrayal to happen to me twice. Not even if it's you."
Cold seeped through me, head to toe, like I'd been thrown into an ice cellar.
Only now did I truly understand what kind of man I'd fallen for.
This suffocating pressure made me think of Trent—that sick control, that relationship I'd fought desperately to escape. Why was it repeating itself in a more terrifying, more lethal form with Roman?
"What am I to you?" I asked, tears falling harder, voice full of despair and rage. "Your property? Your pet? You can surveil me when you want, suspect me when you want, threaten me when you want? You think you have the right to decide if I live or die?"
"I have that right. And that power." He said. "From the day you walked through that door, you should've accepted all of me."