Filthy Promises: Chapter 68

My fingers fly over the keyboard, piecing together the puzzle that’s been nagging at me for weeks. Spreadsheets, bank statements, acquisition reports—they all tell the same story now that I know what to look for.

It’s like seeing a Magic Eye picture suddenly snap into focus.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, rubbing my lower back as I lean away from my laptop.

At almost forty weeks pregnant, I shouldn’t be hunched over financial records at midnight. I should be sleeping, or at least trying to sleep through the gymnastics routine happening inside my uterus.

But something about the Costa Rica deal collapse didn’t sit right with me.

Vince has been different since that morning when he got the call. Tighter. More controlled. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

At first, I thought it was just pre-baby jitters. God knows I’ve had enough of those myself. But then I overheard him talking with Arkady about “containment strategies” and “damage control,” and my snooping instincts kicked in.

So I started digging.

The Costa Rica development wasn’t the first casualty. Not by a long shot.

I print out the reports I’ve compiled and organize them in a folder. The baby kicks furiously, as if sensing my agitation.

“I know, little one,” I whisper, rubbing my belly. “Grandpa’s been very naughty.”

The clock reads 1:38 A.M. when I finally hear Vince’s footsteps in the hallway. He’s been working late every night this week, coming to bed long after I’ve pretended to fall asleep.

Not tonight, though.

I straighten in my chair as the bedroom door opens.

“You’re still up,” he says in surprise. “Everything okay?”

“No,” I reply simply. “Everything is not okay.”

He’s instantly alert, crossing to me in three quick strides. “The baby⁠—”

“The baby’s fine,” I assure him. “Feel for yourself.”

He does, touching my belly softly until the telltale thump of our healthy little one reassures him. Then his eyes drift to the papers spread across the desk, and his expression goes dark once more.

“What’s all this?” he asks.

I don’t know why he bothers. I suspect he already knows.

“Evidence,” I say, handing him the folder. “Of your father’s systematic sabotage of our legitimization efforts.”

Vince’s face gives nothing away as he takes the folder and begins flipping through the pages. But I know him well enough now to see the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw.

He knew.

He definitely knew.

“It’s not just Costa Rica,” I continue. “The Seattle shipping contract that mysteriously fell through? Andrei met with the port commissioner two days before they rescinded. The pharmaceutical acquisition that suddenly faced regulatory hurdles? Your father’s got an old buddy on the review board.”

I point to the relevant documents as I keep going, watching Vince’s expression carefully.

“The construction delays at the Manhattan project? Turns out the union leader who called the strike received a very generous ‘donation’ from an anonymous source. But the banking trail leads back to one of your father’s shell companies.”

Vince sets the folder down slowly. His face is a perfect mask of control.

Too perfect.

“You already knew, though,” I say aloud, my voice dropping. “You knew all of this.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t try to soften the blow.

“Yes,” he says simply. “I’ve known since Costa Rica.”

I can’t stop my face from twisting into a pained grimace. I push myself up from the chair, one hand supporting my belly as I move away from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand. “After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built together, you still shut me out?”

“I was protecting you from⁠—”

“Goddammit!” I whirl around to face him. “I’m your wife, Vince. Your partner. We made vows. We made promises about honesty and trust.”

“You’re also nine months pregnant,” he counters, his own frustration rising to meet mine. “You’re about to give birth to our child. The last thing you needed was more stress.”

“So you decided for me? You decided what I could and couldn’t handle?” I shake my head in disbelief. “That’s not protection, Vince. That’s a fetish for control.”

He runs both hands through his hair. “What would you have done with the information, Rowan? What could you have done?”

“Exactly what I did anyway!” I gesture to the folder. “Research. Analysis. Strategy. You know, the things you supposedly value me for?”

We stare at each other across the room. The distance between us suddenly feels vast. This is our first real fight since the wedding, and the timing couldn’t be worse.

“I confronted him, you know,” Vince says after a long moment. “The day we found out about Costa Rica. I told him to back off or face the consequences.”

Something in his tone makes me pause. “What consequences?”

“I cut him off,” he says flatly. “From Bratva operations. From our business dealings. From everything.”

I sink onto the edge of the bed, processing this. “You confronted your father—your mentor, the head of your family—and essentially declared war on him. Alone.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?”

He crosses to kneel in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Because he is my father, Rowan. My blood. My burden to bear.”

The raw pain in his voice cuts through my anger. I see now what I missed before: the cost of this confrontation. The toll it’s taken on him to sever this last tie to his past, to stand against the man who shaped him into who he is.

“Oh, Vince,” I whisper, cupping his face in my hands. “You stubborn, stupid, wonderful man.”

A flicker of confusion crosses his features. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m furious,” I correct. “But I also understand. This isn’t just business for you. It’s… it’s everything. And yet…” I cup his face and make him look at me. “My whole point is that you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. That’s the whole point of this—of us. We face things together.”

“You’re too wise for your own good, moya zhena.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have.” I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “But I forgive you. This time.”

His arms encircle me as best they can with my enormous belly between us. For a long moment, we just hold each other. It’s the peace we’ve been missing.

“So what do we do now?” I murmur into his chest eventually. “About Andrei?”

“‘We’ don’t do anything. I will⁠—”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t fucking think so, Mister.” I point at my stacks of papers. “I didn’t compile all this just for my health, you know. I have ideas.”

Vince shakes his head with a dry chuckle. “Of course you do.”

“Your father is operating from the shadows,” I explain as I sink back into my desk chair. “Using his old connections, his influence in places we can’t see. But that’s also his weakness.”

“How so?”

“He’s playing by the old rules. But we’re writing new ones. If we bring everything into the light—make our operations so transparent that there’s nowhere for his sabotage to hide—we neutralize his advantage.”

Vince’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Total transparency would be risky while we still have… less legitimate interests.”

“So we accelerate the transition,” I counter. “Push harder, faster on the legitimate ventures. Create a corporate structure so clean and visible that any interference becomes immediately apparent.”

“That would mean sacrificing some of our more profitable operations.”

“Short-term loss for long-term gain,” I remind him. “Isn’t that what business is all about?”

He studies me for a long moment, something like wonder in his eyes. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You knocked me up and had to marry me,” I deadpan.

His laugh is startled and genuine. “I’m serious, Rowan. Most women would run screaming from this mess.”

“I’m not most women,” I say. “And this mess is our mess now. I’m all in, Vince. For better or worse, remember?”

“For better or worse,” he echoes, leaning in to kiss me softly.

When we break apart, I reach for the folder again. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. We start with the shipping contracts. If we consolidate our East Coast operations under a new corporate entity—completely separate from anything Andrei has connections to—we can rebuild what was lost in Costa Rica.”

Vince listens intently as I outline my strategy. We work together seamlessly, our minds in perfect sync as we craft a plan to counter Andrei’s sabotage.

It’s nearly dawn when we finally finish. I’m exhausted, like any pregnant woman would be.

But I’ve never felt more alive.