22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aurora
Earlier that morning
Irush out of the building, moving as quickly as Misha’s little legs can manage without dragging him behind me. Once we’re outside, I scoop him up, determined to put as much distance as possible between us and Sergei.
What am I doing?
I’m making out with my boss. I’m cuddling with him. The evidence supporting my insanity is stacking up—so much that even the best defense attorney wouldn’t be able to exonerate me. I turn around, my eyes scanning the street, trying to focus on something, anything.
What am I doing?
“You’re playing house. That’s what you’re doing,” I mumble under my breath as I adjust Misha higher on my hip.
I remind myself that every playdate ends, and everyone goes back home.
This will end too. I’m a temporary solution.
I’m Misha’s nanny until the summer, then I’ll return to my own life—without Misha, without Sergei.
Alone. Like always.
With only five seconds left on the crossing signal, I run across the street.
The wind whistles in my ears. Four. My hair flaps in disarray against my eyes.
Three. It covers Misha’s face as he clings closer to my body, his left arm tucked inside the front of my shirt.
Two. His dinosaur backpack slips off my shoulder, weighing down on my arm. One.
We barely make it to the other side, my heart racing—but not just from the sprint.
I need to stop living in a fantasy where things with Sergei end well. My life doesn’t get a happily ever after. It’s filled with drama, and failure, rejection and heartbreak, and, and… I grab my head, trying to make it stop spinning.
Oh God. I’m helping Daniel with his investigation, talking to people and snooping around Sergei’s office like some wanna-be spy.
What am I doing?
Sergei needs to be there for his son. He’s said as much.
I’m just the nanny. He’s focused on his hotel and Misha, as he should be.
I shouldn’t be distracting him. I can’t be filling my head with fantasies that have no place in my mind.
And I should definitely not be crossing the physical lines like I have.
I. Am. The. Nanny.
So act like it.
I pause, take a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. “Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Okay.” Resignation washes over me. Setting Misha down, I take his little hand in mine. I’m just the nanny. And I’ll act like it.
We arrive at the park, where I spot Misha’s new friend holding a dinosaur toy.
I tug the zipper of his jacket up before he bolts toward the swings, his face lighting up with excitement.
The boy’s mom waves at me but doesn’t approach.
The other mothers know I’m Misha’s temporary nanny.
With their busy lives, they see no point in investing time in me.
No one ever does.
“Ankledun!” Misha runs up to me, clutching his toy.
“Yes, Ankledun,” I reply with a smile. I’m still amazed at how kids his age can pronounce these complicated dinosaur names but struggle with simpler words.
“Ankledun!” Misha points toward the street.
I turn my head, and something sharp clicks in my mind. The air stalls in my lungs as an invisible fist strikes my chest. Daniel leans against his car, watching me, his golden-brown eyes locked with mine.
No, it can’t be…
Gently, I tilt Misha’s chin upward until our eyes meet. My knees nearly buckle underneath the weight of the realization crashing over me.
Golden-brown eyes.
“Ankledun… Ankledun… Ankledun…” I mumble under my breath. No. No. The last hopeful strand of logic thrashes inside me, begging this not to be true. But a cold gust of wind tears through me, sweeping that hope away. “Uncle Dan.”
“Ankledun!” Misha bounces with excitement, tugging at my hand as he pulls me toward Daniel. When I don’t move fast enough, he lets go and dashes toward him instead. Daniel scoops him up effortlessly, pulling him into a tight embrace.
I walk toward them, or at least I think I do. My legs feel almost sentient, rebelling against every step. Because if it were up to me, I’d already be running in the opposite direction. Despite myself, my pace is slow, my feet dragging across the pavement.
“You’ve gotten so tall!” Daniel’s voice is tender in a way that I’ve never heard before.
“Come play!” Misha tugs on Daniel’s sleeve.
Daniel pets Misha’s head softly. “I can’t play right now, little man. Not today. But I got you this.” He pulls a small red T-Rex with striking black stripes from his pocket.
“Rex!” Misha squeaks before he runs back to the swing, eager to show his new toy to his friend.
I keep my eyes on Misha because it’s easier this way. “Daniel, who is Alessia?” The words come out trembling.
He lets out a long sigh before answering, “She was Sergei’s wife.”
My teeth grind, nails digging hard into my palms. Does he think I’m stupid? “Daniel.”
He moves closer, still hesitating. “Misha’s mom.”
“Daniel.” I push through the tight knot of emotion, louder this time. He closes the distance between us. I finally turn to face him, already knowing what comes next.
His expression crumples, his eyes turning glossy. When his lips part, the words I already know are coming break into the air. And once they’re spoken, there’s no taking them back. Once I hear them, everything changes.
“My sister.”
If Daniel hadn’t wrapped his arms around me, I might have collapsed. I close my eyes, dizziness flooding through me. My hands tremble as I grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat. The leather is unnervingly cold against my skin.
Alessia was his sister.
“You are…” I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. “She was… Misha is…” My mind races as I struggle to find the right words. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally shove him away, stumbling on the pavement.
He reaches out to help me, but I push him away again.
“Would you have agreed to help me?” he asks.
“Yes. No. Yes. I don’t know.” I clutch my head. Every conversation, every interaction replays in my mind.
“See? That’s why,” he says, his gaze meeting mine.
“Of course they took you off the case,” I say, realization dawning on me.
“You can’t investigate this!” My eyes widen in disbelief because how can he not see the colossal conflict of interest?
“Even if you find something—some evidence against Sergei or anyone else—it’ll be questioned.
It won’t be admissible.” Now I’m shouting in his face.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s admissible.” His words slice through the air, nearly catching me in the process.
I stagger backward, wrapping my arms around my body. He lied to me. He used me. I was just a means to an end. I’m speechless for several drawn-out seconds before I finally say, “You have no plan to let this go through the legal system, do you?”
He says nothing. A slight breeze rustles the leaves of the trees around us, as if urging him to speak.
“Answer me! You owe me that much!” I demand.
“I don’t know!” he screams. His nostrils flare as he drags out a long, shaky breath before his shoulders finally sag. “I don’t know...” This time, the words come out desperate. Exhausted. Broken.
I turn around to make sure Misha is still safely playing with his friend. “Why haven’t you been around?” I ask, my heart aching at the thought that Misha didn’t only lose his mother, but also his uncle, who all but disappeared from his life.
“Sergei filed a restraining order after an incident.” Daniel rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “To protect Misha, he claims.”
I take a step away from him, as if sobering up. “Then you shouldn’t have come here,” I say.
“You think I would hurt Misha?” The pain in his eyes is unmistakable.
“No. But Sergei is his father, and if he believes you shouldn’t be near him, I trust his decision.”
Daniel doesn’t respond. He just turns, walks to his car, and opens the back door. A moment later, he pulls out a folder and hands it to me. “Read it.” The door slams shut behind him, the sound echoing with finality.
I don’t know why I’m still heeding his instructions, but my mind is numb, and my hands decide to rebel, reaching for the file and opening it. It’s another stack of financial statements, like the one he showed me before.
“What am I looking at now?” I mumble just as a child screams in the distance. I glance toward the playground, tempted to run away. But I know how relentless Daniel is. He would chase me down and force my eyes open, shoving the documents in my face until I couldn’t ignore the truth. His truth.
“I’ve been going through his finances again.” He leans in. “This is a statement from May. Check the line on the third page.”
I flip to the page he mentioned and notice a withdrawal of thirty thousand dollars.
“And the withdrawals have continued every month since then. I’m still trying to figure out where the money is going, but it’s a substantial amount.”
“And you think this is for what?” My shoulders rise and fall in a slow, uneven breath. “To pay the person he hired to kill his wife—your sister,” I add quickly. If I repeat it enough, maybe my brain will finally accept the reality of my words.
“That’s what I’m thinking. But cash is hard to track.
I’m trying to get access to the bank’s video footage from the time of the withdrawals to confirm that it was Sergei who took out the money.
But it can’t be anyone else. I doubt Sergei would give many people access to his financial accounts.
If I could see where he goes after he makes those withdrawals, then I can see who he’s meeting with. ”
“Sure, you do that,” I murmur, handing the folder back to him and turning away.
Daniel grabs my arm. “Wait. Where are you going?”
I spin to face him. “You got in. The device I connected got you these documents. You have a plan. What do you need me for? I’m going back to my actual job—being Misha’s, your nephew”—I pause for a second and force myself to say it—“your nephew’s nanny.”