2. Maksim #2
“Mama, I’m scared.” Daniel burrows closer to her, and I see his small hand clutching the fabric of her sweater. “I don’t like this.”
“I know, baby. I know. But it’s going to be okay. I’ll keep you safe.”
Will she?
Will she keep him safe the way she has been?
Letting him go hungry?
Letting him wear clothes with holes in them?
Letting him live in poverty when his father could have given him everything?
I bite my tongue before I say something I’ll regret.
The drive to the airfield takes forty minutes.
Neither of them speak again.
Aria keeps her arms around Daniel, and he keeps his face hidden against her shoulder.
Every few minutes, I catch her looking out the window like she’s memorizing the route and planning an escape.
I let her plan. It won’t do her any good.
The private jet is waiting on the tarmac, fueled and ready. Len pulls the SUV right up to the stairs, and I get out first. The night air is cold, even though it’s summer.
I open their door. “Let’s go.”
Aria doesn’t move. She’s staring at the plane like it’s a guillotine.
“Now, Aria.” I keep my voice controlled. “Don’t make me carry you.”
That gets her moving even though she shoots a glare at me. She climbs out with Daniel, who’s looking around with wide eyes. He’s never seen a private plane before. Hell, he’s probably never been on any plane before.
“This way.” I gesture toward the stairs.
Aria walks like she’s heading toward her execution, each step slow and deliberate. Daniel is clutching her hand, his other hand holding something—a stuffed rabbit, I realize. It’s brown and threadbare, one ear hanging by threads, patches sewn over spots where the fur has worn through.
My son’s beloved toy is falling apart.
I follow them up the stairs and into the cabin. The interior is exactly as I requested with leather seats and soft lighting. There’s food laid out on the table: sandwiches, fruit, pastries, juice boxes. My staff knows how to prepare for children, even if I don’t.
Daniel stops just inside the door, his mouth falling open.
He’s staring at everything like he’s stepped into another world.
The space. The luxury. The food.
Especially the food.
His eyes lock on the sandwiches, and I see his throat work as he swallows. Hungry. My son is hungry, and his mother has been starving him.
“Sit.” I gesture to the seats in the back. “We’ll be taking off soon.”
Aria guides Daniel to a seat and buckles him in with trembling hands. She sits beside him, her body angled toward his like she’s trying to block me from view.
I take a seat across from them, separated by the aisle to give them space. I’m not a complete monster.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our departure. The engines whine to life, and the plane starts to move. Daniel grips the armrests, eyes wide.
“It’s okay,” Aria murmurs. “It’s just the plane moving. We’re going to fly, like a bird.”
“I’ve never been on a plane before,” Daniel whispers.
“I know, baby.” She smooths his hair back. “It’s going to be okay. Just hold my hand.”
He does, his small fingers gripping hers like a lifeline.
The plane accelerates, then lifts off smoothly.
Daniel gasps, pressing his face to the window.
For a moment, his fear is forgotten in wonder.
He watches the ground fall away, the lights of Philadelphia growing smaller and smaller.
“We’re flying,” he breathes. “Mama, we’re really flying.”
“Yes, Danny boy.” Aria’s voice is thick with tears. “We are.”
Once we’re at cruising altitude, the seatbelt sign goes off.
Daniel immediately unbuckles and climbs into Aria’s lap, his rabbit clutched to his chest.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him directly.
He looks at me, then at his mother as if waiting for permission. It’s like he’s been trained not to speak to strangers.
Or maybe not to accept anything from them.
Good. Aria has taught him to be wary.
“You can eat if you want to,” Aria tells him softly. “It’s okay.”
Daniel slides off her lap and approaches the table like it might bite him. His hand hovers over a turkey sandwich then pulls back.
“Go ahead,” I say gently. “It’s for you.”
He takes the sandwich with both hands and bites into it. His eyes close and he chews slowly, savoring it like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
It probably is.
He finishes it in less than a minute, barely pausing to breathe. Then he reaches for another one. And another. He’s eating so fast he’s going to choke.
“Slow down,” I tell him, worried he’s going to get sick. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”
He freezes, sandwich halfway to his mouth, eyes wide with fear.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to scare him.
“I mean take your time,” I say, softening my voice. “There’s plenty. You can eat as much as you want. No one will take it from you.”
He nods, but I can see he doesn’t believe me. He takes another bite then glances at the food still on the table. Calculating. Planning.
Then I see him do it.
He takes two more sandwiches and stuffs them in the pockets of his hoodie with quick, furtive movements like he’s stealing.
It’s as if he expects someone to stop him.
Food hoarding. I’ve seen it before in children who’ve gone hungry and learned that food is scarce.
My son has been starving.
My son has been living like a street urchin while his mother worked herself to death in a failing gallery.
My son has been going without while I’ve been searching for him.
I’ve had wealth and everything he needed right here waiting for him.
The rage is a red tide behind my eyes.
I want to grab Aria and demand to know how she could let this happen.
How she could watch our son go hungry and not come to me.
Not ask for help.
Not give him the life he deserved.
But I don’t. I sit perfectly still and watch Daniel hoard food in his pockets.
He’s calculating how much he can take without being noticed. He’s learned to survive in ways a seven-year-old should never have to learn.
Aria is crying silently, tears streaming down her face as she watches him. She knows what this means.
She knows I’m seeing exactly what kind of life she’s given our son.
Good. Let her see it through my eyes. Let her understand what she’s done.
“Daniel,” I say quietly. “You don’t have to hide the food. If you’re still hungry later, there will be more. I promise.”
He looks at me with those gray Sokolov eyes and I see the distrust there. The wariness of a child who’s learned that promises mean nothing.
“Okay,” he says but he doesn’t take the sandwiches out of his pockets.
The flight to the Hamptons takes less than two hours. Daniel eventually curls up in his seat, the rabbit tucked under his chin, and falls asleep. The sandwiches are still in his pockets.
Aria sits rigid beside him, one hand on his shoulder like she’s making sure he’s still there. Her face is pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She looks destroyed.
It brings me joy.
“We need to talk,” I say when I’m sure Daniel is deeply asleep. “About why you ran.”
She doesn’t look at me and she stiffens. “I have nothing to say to you.”
I scowl. “That’s not acceptable.”
“I don’t care what’s acceptable to you.” Her voice is cold and harder than I’ve ever heard it. “You’ve taken everything from me. You don’t get my secrets too.”
“I’ve taken everything?” I lean forward, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake Daniel. “You’re the one who stole eight years from me. You’re the one who kept my son hidden. You’re the one who let him go hungry rather than ask for help.”
She scowls. “I was protecting him,” she whispers fiercely.
“From what?” I demand. “From having a father who would have given him everything? From being safe and warm and fed? From having a family?”
“From your world.” She finally looks at me, and there’s fire in her eyes despite the tears. “From the stuff of nightmares and—” She cuts herself off.
“And what, Aria? Say it.”
She presses her lips together and looks away.
I shake my head. “You really think I’d hurt him,” I say flatly. “You really think I’d hurt you.”
“Wouldn’t you have?” She meets my eyes again. “If I’d stayed? If I’d questioned you about things I shouldn’t have seen? Would you have let me walk away?”
I open my mouth to answer then close it. The truth is complicated. Would I have hurt her to protect the organization? To keep her quiet?
No. I never would have hurt her. I loved her too much. I would have done anything to keep her safe. To keep Daniel safe, if I had known about him.
My internal struggle must show on my face because Aria nods, vindicated.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispers.
“Things are different now,” I counter.
“Are they?” She looks down at Daniel and smooths his hair back with gentle fingers. I itch to do the same. “You forced us onto a plane in the middle of the night. You threatened to take my son by force. You’ve been stalking us for months. How exactly are things different?”
“You’re the mother of my child,” I say through gritted teeth. “That changes everything.”
“Does it?” Her laugh is bitter. “Or does it just mean I’m trapped now? That I can never escape because you’ll always use Daniel as leverage?”
She’s not wrong. I would use him. I am using him, because he’s mine and I’m not letting either of them go.
“We’re landing in ten minutes,” I say instead of answering. “Wake him up. I want him to see his new home.”
“This isn’t his home,” Aria says fiercely. “This is a prison.”
“Call it whatever you want.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand. “But get used to it. You’re never leaving.”
I walk to the cockpit to give them privacy, but I can hear her soft, broken sobs that she’s trying to muffle so she doesn’t wake our son.
Let her cry. Let her grieve her old life. That life is over.
They’re mine now. Both of them.
And I’m never letting them go.