49. Daphne
49
I stare at the burner phone laying on Pasha’s desk.
It’s got a full charge. It’s on. Now, I’m just waiting to see if anyone actually calls it.
The thing arrived last night, but it was several hours of Lev and Sofi running it through checks and scanning the package for any signs of danger before she brought it up to me.
Today marks the fifth day of the raids. Pasha’s still gone. Asya is still struggling to stay afloat mentally, and Sofi is our dedicated smuggler of all things news and noteworthy.
As for me?
I’m in my husband’s office while our daughter naps, enveloping myself in his warm leather and sandalwood scent. Waiting for this thing to?—
Bzzt. Bzzt.
“Hello?” I pick it up on the first ring. My heart is pounding so loud, I pray I’m able to hear the person on the other end.
“Daphne.”
I’m gonna throw up.
“Daphne, I need you to listen to me very carefully?—”
“It was you.” I swallow back the surge of bile. As much as I want to chew out the man I once called “Father,” I’m too stunned. “Everything. This is all your doing.”
“No, Daphne. This is all your doing.”
“The hell it is!”
“Shut! The fuck! Up!” Stewart booms into the phone. “Shut your goddamn mouth for once and listen to me! I am your father!”
I could hang up. I could hang up on his abuse and throw the phone out the window.
But if he has information that will end this chaos, I need to get it.
“Okay.”
I hate myself so much. I hate how my voice sounds.
Whatever it takes.
“See? Now, was that so hard? If you’d only been this obedient from the start, none of this would be happening. But no, you had to go and make an embarrassment out of our whole family. You, young lady… you humiliated us!”
I have to bite my tongue painfully hard just so I don’t cut in to correct him. To remind him that they’ve been the ones humiliating themselves for years.
“Honestly, had you just remembered your place and kept your mouth shut, I think your mother and I could have eventually grown to adjust to your new… situation.”
That’s a boldfaced lie. We both know it. I say nothing.
“But after that stunt you pulled, I had to do something. I can’t let Chekhov or his people think they’ve won just because he’s fucking my daughter. Do you hear me, Daphne?”
There’s a part of me that wants to cower to him just so he’ll stop being so heartless and cruel. It’s quickly shut down by the much bigger part of me.
The new Daphne Chekhov who is now, officially, pissed the hell off.
“I hear you, Stewart.” I spit his name with disgust. “How could I not? You’re always so afraid people will forget you exist. You’re like a fucking lap dog. You don’t know when or how to stop barking.”
He starts to say something more, but I cut him off.
“No. Now, it’s time for you to listen to me. If you think for one second that my husband is going to believe I’m behind all this, you’re dead fucking wrong.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about?—”
“Oh, I would. Pasha knows—hell, his whole family knows—about the kind of abuse you and Ophelia put me through. The nightmares you forced Melanie to suffer. Why do you think you’re such a stranger to your own grandchildren?”
“Listen here?—”
“I’m done listening to you. I really am. I’m done. I’m done bowing to you, I’m done listening to you, and I’m done being afraid of you. You’ve got nothing over me. You’ve got nothing!”
Stewart goes quiet. And then, after a long pause…
“I have your brother-in-law.”
Something about the way he says it makes my blood run cold. I don’t want to believe him because I know he’s desperate enough to do—and say—anything.
“What about him?”
“I know all about your little ‘replacement family.’ As if your insolence wasn’t a slap in the face enough.” He chuckles through his disdain. “And now, I know what happened to him in prison last night.”
“What?” My lungs constrict.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he croons with sickly sweetness dripping off every syllable, “didn’t you hear? Makari Chekhov was stabbed last night. Shanked by his inmate. Pity.”
I sink deeper into Pasha’s leather office chair. I’m glad I wasn’t standing, because my limbs feel weak. Even my fingers go numb. I let the phone drop to the desktop and press the speakerphone button. “Explain.”
“Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are. I know Pasha is shit at protecting his own, but one would have thought at least his brother would fare better.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And that’s your problem, Daphne. You never believe the people who love you. I am your father. Why would I lie?”
I suck in a deep breath. And then, loud and clear so there’s no misunderstanding, I say, “Go to hell.”
Something shuffles in his background. Ophelia’s voice suddenly comes through.
“You heard our terms, young lady. You’ve given us no choice but to continue to show you why we are your best chance at a good life. For you and our granddaughter.”
My hands grip the armrests. “Stay the fuck away from my daughter.”
“We can’t?—”
“You’ll pry her from my cold, dead hands—or I’ll kill you before you get the chance.”
Ophelia simply sighs. “You were always so dramatic. You should take notes from your sister; at least she had the dignity to accept defeat quietly. In any case, you know where to find us.”
“We’re done.”
“But this isn’t. Everything you’re going through? That will never be done. You will never find relief from the hell your so-called husband is putting you through. But, should you decide you’ve had enough of that… well, we’re only a phone call away.”
The line goes dead.
Everything feels so heavy, so dull, so muted.
Maybe it’s my body’s way of handling the news. Without that numbness, I don’t know if I would’ve been strong enough to catch Asya when she collapsed after I told her the news about Mak.
But as numb as I am, my mind still races.
Wondering how much blood he’s lost.
Who did this.
If he’ll pull through.
We cling to each other, her tears dampening my shoulder as I rock her on the couch. As my mind races, and races, and races.
You did this.
You’re the one who got Makari hurt.
If he dies, his blood is on your hands.
I don’t know how long we sit together. Long enough that her sobs fade into hiccups and then into silence. To be honest, I’ve lost track of time. It all just kind of melts together.
I already tried calling Pasha. Even now, with Asya curled up under a throw and her head in my lap, I pressed his name in my speed dial and prayed he’d actually answer this time.
He didn’t.
So I texted him everything. Every last vile word my parents spat at me.
Well, maybe not every word. My thumbs pause over the keyboard… and then I delete. And delete. And delete.
Until one crucial ultimatum is left out.
This is for the best, I tell myself. This is what I have to do. Despite my heart slamming inside my ribcage, I feel like I’m doing the right thing.
Or at least, I hope I’m doing the right thing.
Asya doesn’t stir when I coax her from my lap to the couch. It’s perfectly timed, too, because when I check on Tatyanna, my sweet baby girl is also snoozing away in her crib.
I tap out another text, this time to Hazel.
ME: Are you busy?
HAZEL: I’m already on my way over
HAZEL: Got a feeling you might need me
HAZEL: You don’t have to explain. Just know I’ll be there in like, 10 minutes
I don’t deserve her.
When she arrives, she doesn’t pester me with questions she knows I can’t give the answers to. She just gives me a hug, tells me to be careful, and beelines for the nursery to watch over her goddaughter.
I meet a very apprehensive Lev in the elevator. “Are you sure about this?” he grumbles.
“As sure as I’ll ever be.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it, either. But this needs to stop.”
“The Boss will be pissed.”
“The Boss will take it up with me.” I glance at my guard-turned-friend. “And I think he’ll be more understanding, since I’m not going alone.”
Lev tries to hide the upturn tick in the corner of his mouth.
“Plus, I may have left him a note already. So it’s not like he doesn’t know.”
He sighs. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. But can you blame me for trying?”
The elevator doors ding open. Lev holds them for me, but he grabs my sleeve before I fully step off.
“It’s my job to protect you, Daphne,” he says. “I’m not doing my job if I’m helping you do something dangerous.”
I touch his forearm and give him the biggest, most reassuring smile I can muster up. It’s not much, but it’s something. “Think of it as… you’re protecting me from worse things. You can’t stop me from doing something stupid, but you can make sure I don’t die from it.”
“I can certainly try,” he says with a weary sigh. “I can certainly try.”