Chapter 22: Filthy Lies: Chapter 22

“She’s coming to live with us, and that’s final.”

I stand in the middle of Vince’s study, arms crossed, feet planted. My voice doesn’t waver. It’s the same tone I used when I told that blonde Solovyov bitch she couldn’t take my newborn daughter.

It says, I’m not asking permission.

Vince looks up from his laptop. “Rowan, the security concerns⁠—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about security concerns. My mother is dying, Vince. She won’t last much longer in that hospital.”

He closes his laptop. “The compound is a target right now. With Grigor’s men still patrolling our perimeter, with whoever killed Peterson still out there⁠—”

“All the more reason to have her here, where I can see her. Where I can spend whatever time she has left with her.”

Something in my face must show just how serious I am, because Vince’s shoulders drop.

“The east wing,” he says after a moment. “We can convert the guest suite. It has separate access for medical staff, and it’s far enough from Sofiya’s nursery that your mother won’t be disturbed by crying.”

Relief floods through me, loosening the knot that’s been sitting in my chest since Dr. Patel’s call.

“Thank you.”

Vince rises from his desk and crosses to me. His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“I can’t fix this for you,” he says softly. “I wish I could.”

I lean into his touch. “Just help me make her comfortable. That’s all I ask.”

“Consider it done.”

Three days later, the east wing has been transformed. Hospital bed, medical monitors, oxygen tanks—everything Margaret might need. I’ve added personal touches, too. Her favorite quilt at the foot of the bed. Family photos on the nightstand. Yellow daisies—fresh ones every day—in the bluest vase I could find.

When the medical transport brings her from the hospital, I’m shocked by how much she’s declined in just a few days. Her once-vibrant eyes are sunken, cloudy.

But she smiles when she sees the room I’ve prepared.

“You’ve been busy,” she remarks as the nurses help her settle into the bed.

“I wanted it to feel like home.”

Once the nurses leave, promising to return in a few hours to check her vitals, I perch carefully on the edge of her bed.

“How are you feeling, Ma? Really?”

Mom’s laugh turns into a cough. “Like I’m dying, sweetheart. No point sugarcoating it.”

I swallow hard. “Mom⁠—”

“It’s okay, Row. I’ve made my peace with it.” She reaches for my hand with fingers like winter twigs. “But before I go, there are things we need to discuss.”

Something in her tone makes my stomach clench. “What things?”

“Grigor, for one.”

Just the name sends a chill down my spine. “What about him?”

“You need to meet him, Rowan.”

I shake my head. “Mom, that’s not⁠—”

“Listen to me.” Her grip tightens with surprising strength. “I’ve spent your entire life protecting you from that world. And here you are anyway, married to a Bratva captain⁠—”

“Pakhan,” I correct automatically.

She smiles sadly. “See? You’re in it now, whether I wanted that for you or not. And if you’re going to survive, you need to understand all sides of it. Including Grigor’s.”

“Vince thinks it’s too dangerous.”

“Of course he does. Grigor is his enemy.”

“And you think I should just… what? Have a father-daughter reunion? Pretend we’re normal?”

Margaret’s gaze grows distant. “There was nothing normal about Grigor. But he wasn’t evil, Rowan. Despite what Vincent has probably told you.”

“You loved him,” I say softly, remembering our conversation at the hospital.

“With my whole heart. He was…” She sighs. “Complicated. Dangerous, yes. Capable of terrible things. But also capable of surprising tenderness.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because that little girl of yours—” She nods toward the baby monitor where Sofiya’s soft breathing can be heard. “She’s Grigor’s flesh and blood, too. And someday, she might need his protection.”

The thought sends a tremor rumbling through me. “She has Vince.”

“And what if something happens to Vincent, hm?”

I flinch. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m dying, Rowan. I don’t have time for niceties.” She squeezes my hand again. “In this world you’ve chosen, you need all the allies you can get. Even unlikely ones.”

I stand and pace to the window, wrapping my arms around myself. Outside, armed guards patrol the grounds. Beyond them, somewhere in the trees, Grigor’s men wait.

“I wouldn’t even know what to say to him,” I admit.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Margaret’s voice softens. “Just listen. Learn. Understand where you come from.”

I turn back to face her. “You spent my entire life keeping me away from him. Why the change of heart?”

“Because I was trying to keep you out of the Bratva world altogether.” She gestures weakly at our surroundings. “That ship has sailed, sweetheart. Now, I just want you to have every possible advantage in it.”

The intercom beside her bed buzzes. It’s time for her medication.

“Think about it,” she urges as I move to help her with the pills. “That’s all I ask.”

Later, after she’s drifted to sleep, I sit in the rocking chair beside her bed watching her breathe. Each rise and fall of her chest terrifies me, because how can I know when it might be the last?

I think about what she said. About Grigor. About Sofiya potentially needing his protection someday.

The idea alone makes my skin crawl. But haven’t I learned that survival sometimes requires difficult choices? Uncomfortable alliances?

A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. Vince enters quietly, his eyes immediately assessing Margaret’s sleeping form.

“How is she?” he asks.

“Weaker every hour,” I whisper. “But comfortable, at least.”

He nods, then holds out his hand to me. “Can we talk? In private?”

Something in his expression makes my heart stutter. I follow him to the small sitting area adjacent to Margaret’s room, close enough that I’ll hear if she wakes.

“What’s wrong?”

Vince runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. “Agent Carver served papers today. He’s formally requesting your testimony in their ongoing investigation of Akopov Industries.”

My blood runs cold. “He can’t just ‘request’ my testimony. I’m your wife.”

“He can and he did. This isn’t a casual chat over coffee like before. This is formal, Rowan. Federal agents. Sworn statements. Potential charges if they think you’re lying.”

“Charges? What charges? I haven’t done anything!”

Vince’s voice turns gentle. “In their eyes, you’re married to the head of what they believe is a criminal organization. That makes you complicit.”

I sink onto the sofa, mind racing. “If I refuse?”

“Then they’ll issue a summons. And if you ignore that…” His voice trails off.

“They’ll arrest me.”

“I won’t let that happen.” The steel in his voice would be comforting if I didn’t know firsthand that even Vince Akopov can’t control everything.

“When?”

“Next week. Tuesday.”

I nod slowly, processing. “Okay. We have time to prepare.”

Vince sits beside me, taking my hand. “I’ve already called the lawyers. We’ll have a strategy session tomorrow. They’ll coach you on what to say, what not to say.”

“I know how to handle Carver,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

“This isn’t just Carver anymore. It’s his superiors. The whole fucking Justice Department.” His grip tightens. “They’re using you to get to me, Rowan. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that.” I pull my hand from his and stand. “I’m not naive, Vince. Not anymore.”

His eyes follow me as I pace the small room. “I’m sorry,” he says finally.

“For what? You didn’t do this.”

“For all of it. Your mother. Carver. Grigor.” He gestures broadly. “This isn’t the life you signed up for.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Isn’t it? I knew who you were when I married you.”

“Not all of it.”

“No,” I concede. “Not all of it.”

We sit in silence for a moment, surrounded by all the things we cannot say.

“She thinks I should meet him,” I blurt suddenly.

Vince doesn’t need to ask who I’m talking about. “And what do you think?”

I sit beside him again, closer this time. “I think she might be right. If only to understand what we’re dealing with.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t immediately reject the idea. Progress.

“If—and I mean if—we were to consider this, it would be on our terms. Neutral ground. Security protocols in place.”

“Of course.”

“I would be present the entire time.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He studies my face. “You’re serious about this.”

“I’m serious about keeping Sofiya safe. If understanding Grigor helps with that, then yes, I’m serious.”

Vince is quiet for so long that I think he’s going to refuse. Finally, he nods once.

“I’ll make arrangements. But Rowan—” His eyes lock with mine. “If at any point I say we leave, we leave. No questions, no arguments.”

“Agreed.”

From the next room, Margaret’s voice calls weakly. I rise immediately. “I should get back to her.”

Vince catches my hand. “We’ll figure this out. All of it. Together.”

I lean down and kiss his tattooed knuckles. “Yeah,” I whisper into his palm. “I know.”