Chapter 7
VIKTOR
"This is a shit show."
This entire night has turned into a disaster. I wasn't even supposed to come tonight, but Iliya reminded me how good it looks when I give exorbitant amounts to charity.
I walk in and immediately look for the dogs.
They’re the only living beings I want to interact with tonight.
As I make my way to the area where I see the puppies, however, I stop in my tracks at the scene that unfolds before me.
I see my bitch of an ex-wife and my estranged son in his wheelchair.
I’m not surprised they’re here. What I can't believe is who I see with them.
Leah.
She’s as beautiful in person as she is in my memory, if not more so, and my heart picks up at the sight of her curves in that dress, of those eyes, of those lips, and that face I’ve dreamed about since the night we spent together.
Another woman's arm is wound tightly through hers, a strawberry blonde, slightly taller than Leah, wearing a Barbie-pink dress with sequins. The fierce, protective expression on her face doesn’t match the outfit and would scare almost anyone, save for my ex-wife.
Leah herself is glaring at my ex and my son, an edge of panic to her expression.
What the hell is happening? Does Clarissa know about my night with Leah?
Or is it the fact that Peter is Leah's deadbeat ex, the one paralyzed in the car accident that had killed his girlfriend when Leah was waiting at home for him?
When Leah first told the story of her doomed romance, I couldn't believe what she was saying, because the story matched that of my son's.
Then I grew angry, thinking she had left him because he was paralyzed.
I reserved my judgment for the full story—and got what I rightfully deserved for listening.
I received the complete picture of what a terrible person Clarissa raised our son to be. Enabled our son to be.
No one has noticed me yet, so I slip a few steps closer, listening as the conversation becomes clear enough to hear Clarissa’s dig.
I’m about ready to step in on Leah's behalf when Leah herself speaks up. She appears calm and collected, though by the way she clutches her friend’s arm, she's anything but.
As if the woman I fell for on that Brooklyn sidewalk isn’t perfect, isn’t beautiful enough with her curves that give me something to wrap my hands around, with her brilliant hazel eyes, with the way she loses herself with abandon in bed, she’s having a showdown with my ex-wife, who lives her life scaring others into submission.
I can see the effect it’s having on Clarissa by the way her eyes keep narrowing and red flashes up her neck.
Oh how well I know that look from all the arguments we’ve had over the years. Now I realize that's not what a relationship is about—winning or losing. We were young and stupid. She wanted the power, and I wanted arm candy and an heir.
And now I have neither, but I do have a substantial alimony payment.
I can tell Clarissa is about to go off by the way she gathers herself, the red spreading to color the skin of her chest and ears. I will not let Leah be on the other end of that shrieking harpy’s vitriol.
"Is something the matter?"
Clarissa's eyes, slightly glazed with alcohol, dart to me and fill with rage. My son’s attention moves to mine, and then away, because he can't hold my gaze.
It takes Leah a moment more for her eyes to register that it's me before they open wide, then wider, and wider still as Clarissa starts in on me.
Concern is my overarching feeling when I glance at Leah, whose skin is ashen. She's also clutching her friend’s arm so tightly she's leaving red marks.
Before I can ask her if she's okay, she darts away through the crowd, trailing words I can't make out, her blonde friend following.
"She just couldn't handle her shame," Clarissa sniffs.
"It looks like she handled you pretty well."
The statement isn’t from me—it’s from my brother, Andrei, who ambles up with his hands in his pockets as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
"Shut the fuck up," Clarissa hisses. "Why are you even here?"
"Our law firm is sponsoring this event." I gesture grandly to the animals and to the room full of people, some of whom are beginning to look our way with curious glances, some veiled and some not so veiled.
Clarissa places a hand on Peter’s wheelchair in an oddly protective gesture. "Aren’t you too old to still be following your older brother around?"
Andrei rolls his eyes at Clarissa, though I don’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw. "You've already scared all the puppies. Didn't you absorb enough fear tonight? You're drunk. Go home to your cave and feast on souls or something."
My nephew, Marius, tall with dark, curling hair, rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the smile at his father's words.
Clarissa doesn't miss the gesture, and her rage has nearly reached the point of steam coming out of her ears before she comically blows her top. Except with Clarissa, it's never funny. It ends with screaming, things breaking, and people getting kicked out.
People are looking now. Our family’s drama is on display because Clarissa is bitter and angry and can't hold her liquor. Peter is hanging around in the background as always, making sure he stays behind his mommy. And Andrei and Marius are having too much fun egging them both on.
So I excuse myself swiftly and silently, following the path Leah took a short time ago to the women’s restroom. I’m outside the door, ready to break it down to make sure she’s okay, when I hear voices inside. Excited voices. A screech of surprise. A shushing noise.
Which is how I hear Leah confesses to her friend that she thinks she might be pregnant. Most likely with my child.
My entire world has been turned upside down in the last ten seconds.
I wander back to the gala and see my son across the room.
I look at Clarissa. Thanks to who I am, my reputation, she got custody of Peter and proceeded to turn him against me, using every trick in the book.
She even changed his last name to hers, as if to completely erase me from his life.
Maybe if I’d had some say in the way he was raised, he wouldn’t have turned out to be such an asshole.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe he's my flesh and blood.
I tried to contact Peter after his accident, but he wouldn't speak to me.
A glass breaks, and Clarissa is screaming now. My brother, my nephew, and anyone unfortunate enough to be close are now subject to her rage. I shake my head and walk over to deal with the mess, wondering what the hell I’m going to do about Leah.