Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Maksim

Lying in bed with my eyes closed before the sun comes up, it’s almost easy to forget I’m alone. How can I be alone when Abby has been the focus of my thoughts and dreams for the past few hours?

Longer than that, really. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I watched her walk out the door with our—her babies.

I’ve gone back and forth through all the stages of grief, but I keep getting hung up on denial. It’s easier to think this is all a bad dream. That I’ll wake up and everything will be fine. Abby will be sleeping beside me, and the babies will be tucked away in their cribs.

But that’s not how this is going to end. This is a nightmare, and the only thing to do is wake up. The sooner, the better.

I’m still so angry, so full of rage, that I’m not sure what to do with myself. What the hell am I supposed to do? Go about my life like nothing happened? Go back to pretending like everything is normal?

Nothing is normal anymore. My whole world has turned upside down. It feels like I’ve lost everything. My heart. My mind.

I just don’t understand how she could’ve lied about everything. The money, the foundation, Booker, the kids. Literally everything.

I’ve held those babies in my arms. I’ve changed their diapers and bathed them and looked into their tiny little faces. I convinced myself that they looked like me, had my father’s chin, my nose. I created an entire fantasy surrounding those babies, one that sunk its roots right into my heart.

And the sex, the heat and passion, the intensity of it all. That wasn’t fake. That wasn’t her just playing along, or at least it doesn’t feel like it. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s so good at this, so skilled at deception and manipulation.

How many times have I opened up to her, shared my thoughts and fears and desires with her? How many times have I poured out my soul, only to find out it was all a lie?

I just don’t understand.

Heaving an irritated sigh, I roll out of bed and head for the shower. I need to wake up. I need coffee. I need to pull myself together and get down to business.

Why does that all seem so fucking impossible right now? Why does it all feel like such a waste?

The hot water cascades over me and I rest my forehead against the cool tiles, trying to get my shit together.

“It’s okay,” I mutter, my voice sounding strange in the empty bathroom. “It’s going to be okay.”

But it’s not. I’m not. I’m never going to be the same again.

The pain is overwhelming, and for a moment, I think I might actually die. The sadness and despair are too much. It’s like being swallowed by a black hole, and there’s no way out. No light at the end of the tunnel. Just darkness.

All I wanted, for however brief a time it lasted, was for the hope and joy our little family represented.

I can’t breathe. My chest feels tight, my lungs burning. I can’t think.

“Fuck,” I growl, punching the wall and splitting the skin on my knuckles. “Fuck. Fuck.”

I don’t care about the pain. I deserve it for being so fucking gullible.

I keep punching until the blood is dripping down my arm, staining the floor of the shower. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t ease the pain.

I shut off the water and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. The mirror is fogged, but I can see my reflection clearly enough.

My eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and there are dark circles under them. My hair is a mess, and my skin is pale. I look like shit.

“Get it together,” I tell myself, but it’s easier said than done.

I need to go into the office. I need to face the music and figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to know if Alyosha found out anything else.

As I’m getting dressed, my phone starts to ring. I grab it, irrationally hoping for a split-second that it’s Abby.

But it’s not her. It’s Lev.

“Hello?” I answer, trying to sound more like a functioning human being and less like a complete train wreck.

“You awake, boss? I’m on my way over.”

I don’t ask why. I honestly don’t care. My hand is throbbing and my head is pounding and I just want some fucking coffee before I murder someone. “Whatever,” I grumble. “I’ll be here.”

***

I’ve just had time to sit down with a cup of coffee when Lev walks in. I glance up at him and he raises an eyebrow, no doubt picking up on my shitty mood.

“Coffee?” I ask.

“Sure.” He’s being unusually quiet, and I hate it.

I pour him a cup and hand it to him, then take a long sip of my own. We drink in silence for a moment, and then he speaks.

“You sent Abby away?”

This isn’t how I want to start the day. This definitely isn’t what I want to talk about. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

I glare at him, irritated by his line of questioning. “Because she’s a liar. A thief. And she doesn’t care about me. She’s not who we thought she was.”

Lev frowns, taking a sip of his coffee before answering. “You’re sure?”

I narrow my eyes. “There’s proof. Paperwork. A goddamn DNA test, for fuck’s sake. The kids aren’t mine. What else do I need to be sure?”

He nods, looking thoughtful. “What does your gut say, though?”

“Fuck my gut.”

Lev snorts, and then covers it up with a cough. “Sorry.”

“I’m serious,” I growl. “She’s a con artist. She’s good at it, too. But her game is over. She played me and she won, and now it’s done. Over. Finished.”

“Okay, boss.” Lev takes another sip of his coffee, but he’s obviously holding something back.

“What? Just fucking say it, whatever it is.”

“I just don’t think it makes any sense. Abby seems like a good girl. She’s a hard worker, she loves her sister and those kids, and she’s not the type to screw someone over.”

“Not the type?” I echo. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? People are always the type. Everyone’s got a dark side. We’ve seen plenty of that shit firsthand. It’s not like this should be a shock.”

“No, but…it doesn’t seem like her at all,” he points out. “There are usually hints of a person’s darker side, but there haven’t been any with Abby. And we’ve been watching her for a while. No hints. No outbursts. No red flags. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me,”

I glare at him, irritated by the truth in his words. “Are you really going to stand there and defend her?”

“I’m not defending her,” he says. “I’m just saying it doesn’t add up. I’m having a hard time believing she’s a criminal mastermind or whatever the hell you’re accusing her of being.”

“And I’m telling you there’s proof. Hard, undeniable proof. You want to see the papers? I can show you the papers. Want to look at the fucking DNA test? Look at it. I’ve got it all right here.”

Lev raises his hands. “I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Well, I’m not looking for your understanding,” I snap. “And if you’re going to spend all your time trying to play detective, maybe you should go and work for the goddamn cops.”

“All right,” he says quietly. “I get it. Sorry for overstepping.”

“Forget it,” I mutter. I want to change the subject, but now he has my mind racing. Have I made a mistake? A huge, colossal fucking mistake? “You saw it too, didn’t you? The way she was with the kids? The way the kids were with me?”

“Yes,” he insists, nodding and leaning in a little. “That’s what I’m talking about, boss. Those kids are your spitting image. You can’t fake that shit.” He’s starting to get so animated that his coffee sloshes in his cup before he sets it aside. He saw their resemblance to me, too? It wasn’t just in my head? “And what about the attacks? The Irish ransacking her foundation? It’s looking more and more like they’re the ones who put that hit out on her, too. Like they might be involved in the same bullshit mess of drama that these scammers are a part of. Are you really going to tell me that was all for show? That she nearly died, just to prove a point?”

“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Okay, but the foundation. The scamming and the money. That’s real. That’s undeniable. The facts are right there in black and white.”

“Is it? How do we know what’s real and what isn’t anymore?”

If that’s not the question of the fucking century, I don’t know what is. “And the DNA test. Is that made up, too? Why didn’t anyone tell me my father was running fucking tests on my—on Abby’s kids?”

“I didn’t know about any fucking DNA test,” he says with a frown. “I didn’t hear shit about it from anyone.”

“So, what, Alyosha was directly ordered to work alone on this shit?”

Before he can answer, I pick up my phone. “Never mind. I’ll ask him myself.”

Lev’s eyes widen and he starts shaking his head, but I ignore him. I’m already punching the number into the phone and waiting for the call to connect.

“Maks,” my father answers, sounding a bit surprised. “It’s good to hear from you. Everything okay over there?”

“No, it’s not fucking okay,” I snap. “Why did you have my girlfriend’s kids tested without telling me?”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds. “You found the paperwork.”

“You have a lot of nerve,” I growl.

“I did what needed to be done.”

“The fuck you did.”

“Calm down, Maksim. It was a necessary precaution. You weren’t thinking with your head, son. Not the right head, anyway.”

I can’t believe my ears. “You didn’t trust me?” That’s the part that hurts the most. “You could have told me. Christ, you could’ve given me a fucking heads-up, Papa.”

“And risk letting some shlyukha, who swoops in out of nowhere with four child-support checks on the line, get in under your skin and manipulate the situation to her favor? Please, I’ve protected this family from much worse. I know how women work.”

“You really think,” I growl quietly, “that I’m so easily swayed that I wouldn’t take my own father’s advice into consideration? That I couldn’t have handled this myself?”

“Bah,” he snorts through the phone. “You’re too soft when it comes to women. You’re lucky enough Alyosha thought to tell me about her at all, and offered to organize the paternity test himself.”

“Father…” I begin angrily, but he cuts me off.

“Please, I’m a busy man. Is this really why you called me, Maksim?”

I hang up with an angry scowl. I’ve already heard enough. Too much.

“So the DNA test was Alyosha’s idea?” I ask Lev as I set my phone down.

“That’s news to me,” he answers. “Doesn’t surprise me, though.”

“Of course not,” I snort. “He’s the one who brought all the shit to me in the first place. The one who convinced me Abby was a con artist. The one who convinced me I needed to send her away.”

“He did what?”

I wave a hand. “It doesn’t matter. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? What the fuck am I supposed to believe?”

“Believe what you know to be true.”

Except I’m starting to feel like I don’t know anything anymore. That’s the problem.