Chapter 30: Filthy Lies: Chapter 30

I’m sitting cross-legged on our bed, watching Vince wear a path in the carpet. Sofiya is finally asleep in her nursery after the chaos of the day. I wish I could join her. My body is tired, but my mind is wide awake. The fear that has become our normal shows no signs of letting go of me anytime soon.

“We need to end this shit,” mutters Vince.

“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” I ask.

Vince stops pacing long enough to glare at me. “We eliminate the threat.”

“Which threat? Your father? Mine? The Solovyovs? The FBI? The list keeps growing, Vince. Honestly, I’m losing track.”

He runs his hands through his silver-streaked hair, leaving it standing in disarray. “My father first. He’s working with the Solovyovs. He orchestrated an attack at our daughter’s christening.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know what I saw.” His voice rises, then he catches himself, glancing toward the door. Toward Sofiya’s room. “He was communicating with them. Right there in the fucking church.”

I take a deep breath. “Let’s say you’re right. What happens after you ‘eliminate’ your father? Another enemy will just take his place. And another after that.”

“So we do nothing?” Vince throws his hands up. “We just wait for the next attack?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Rowan? Because I’m running out of patience.”

I stand up, facing him directly. “I’m saying we have more than two options. This isn’t just about choosing between killing your father or continuing this endless war.”

“Enlighten me.” His tone drips with sarcasm, but I can see the desperation hiding beneath it.

“We build our own power base,” I state firmly. “Not aligned with your father. Not aligned with mine. Something entirely new.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Why not?” I step closer to him. “Why do we have to play by their rules? My father stayed away for years. Your father is losing control. The old alliances are shifting—Marat said it himself.”

“You don’t understand⁠—”

“No, you don’t understand!” I’m shouting now, months of fear and frustration boiling over. “We can’t keep living like this, Vince! Bulletproof glass and security teams and tracking devices disguised as jewelry? Fuck that! Our daughter deserves better.”

He grabs my shoulders, his fingers digging in, just shy of painful. “You think I don’t know that? You think I want this for her? For you?”

“Then help me find another way.” I reach up to cup his face between my palms. “We’re caught between these old men fighting old wars. But we have something they don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Each other.” I hold his gaze. “And more importantly, we have something worth fighting for that goes beyond pride or power.”

His eyes flicker toward the nursery again.

“So we double down on what we’ve been doing. The Costa Rica development,” I continue. “The shipping contracts. The real estate ventures. We accelerate all of it. We build legitimate power that can’t be taken away by a bullet or a betrayal.”

“My father will never allow it.”

“So we don’t ask for permission.” I release his face and step back. “We use the FBI investigation to our advantage. We give them just enough to redirect their attention to the Solovyovs.”

“And Grigor?”

I pause, considering. “We leverage his desire to know his granddaughter. We don’t align with him, but we don’t make him an enemy, either.”

Vince shakes his head, but I can see him turning the idea over. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth having ever is.” I sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. “I’m just tired of reacting, Vince. We’re always sitting around and waiting for the next disaster, the next kidnapping, the next knife in our backs. Aren’t you sick of that?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, staring at nothing. Then he looks at me, and his entire aura shifts.

He comes to sit beside me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand finds mine. The touch feels electric, awakening something in me that’s been dormant since Sofiya’s birth and the trauma of her delivery.

“You make a terrifying pakhansha, you know that?” A smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

“I learned from the best.”

He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Is that a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” I whisper back.

The electric current between us morphs from frustration into raw need, a darker kind of intensity that makes my blood sing. His fingers trail up my arm, marking my skin with shivers that brand me as his.

“Careful,” I warn halfheartedly. “I just had a baby six weeks ago.”

“We don’t have to⁠—”

I silence him with a kiss, slow and deliberate. “I’m just saying be gentle. For now.”

His eyes darken. “I can be gentle.”

And he is. His hands explore my body with reverent care, rediscovering familiar curves now changed by motherhood. When he cups my breast, I can’t help but gasp—they’re tender still, sensitive in new ways.

“Too much?” he asks immediately.

“No.” I guide his hand, showing him what feels good. “Just… just different.”

We undress each other slowly, almost cautiously. For all the passion that’s always burned between us, this feels like something new.

Our naked bodies align, his much larger frame hovering above mine. I’m nervous suddenly, remembering the last time something was inside me—Sofiya clawing her way into the world while I lay on that filthy mattress.

Vince must see the flash of fear in my eyes, because he stops. “We can wait,” he offers. “There’s no rush.”

“No,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I need this. I need you.”

He takes his time, preparing me with gentle fingers until I’m arching against him, silently begging for more. When he finally pushes inside, the stretch is uncomfortable but welcome—a reclaiming of my body after all it’s been through.

“Okay?” he checks, holding perfectly still.

I nod, unable to form words. He begins to move. It’s nothing like our usual encounters—no dirty talk, no hair pulling, none of the rough passion that defined us before.

But somehow, this gentleness is exactly what I need. What we both need.

His forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling as we move together. I feel tears prick behind my eyelids.

“I love you,” I whisper. “So much it terrifies me sometimes.”

“I know.” His voice is rough as he grunts and grinds. “Me, too.”

We find our rhythm, two bodies speaking a language beyond words. When I come, it’s like a heat wave washing over me rather than the usual explosion. Not that it’s any less powerful—it still leaves me gasping against his shoulder.

He comes and then lies on top of me. I like the pressure of him, his scent, his hair, his bulk, his hand still cupping my hip.

Eventually, he rolls over to settle beside me, one arm draped possessively across my waist. “I’ll think about your proposal,” he says into my hair. “About building our own path.”

“That’s all I ask.” I leave a kiss on his chest, right over his heart.

His breathing gradually deepens as exhaustion claims him. I listen to the steady rhythm, counting each inhale and exhale like a prayer of gratitude.

But sleep still eludes me.

As I lie in the darkness, Vince’s heavy arm belted across my body, I can’t stop thinking about the impossible situation we’re in. Caught between my father and his. Between the law and the lawless. Between past and future.

But the longer I dwell on it, the more something else emerges. I wouldn’t call it certainty, but it’s something like that.

I am the daughter of Grigor Petrov. The wife of Vincent Akopov. I carry blood from one family and have pledged loyalty to another. My existence itself is a bridge between warring kingdoms.

Maybe that’s not just a liability.

Maybe it’s power.

I carefully extract myself from Vince’s embrace and slide out of bed. He doesn’t stir. I pull on a silk robe and move to the window, gazing out at the compound’s security lights cutting through the darkness.

I’ve spent so long reacting to the men in my life. Following their lead. Accepting their protection. Even my proposal tonight was framed around Vince’s actions, Vince’s decisions.

But I’m not just an accessory in this story. Not anymore.

In the glass, my reflection stares back at me. I make my decision then. I won’t wait for Vince to consider my proposal. I won’t stand by while my father and his square off, using Sofiya and me as pawns.

I’ll reach out to Agent Carver myself. Offer selective cooperation in exchange for immunity and protection. I’ll contact Grigor, not as a daughter seeking approval but as a partner offering alliance. I’ll speak with the Costa Rica investors directly, without Vince’s looming presence intimidating them.

I’ll build bridges while the men in my life are busy burning them.

Vince murmurs something in his sleep, his hand searching the empty space where I should be. I return to bed. His arm wraps around me automatically, pulling me close.

“Everything okay?” he mumbles, not fully awake.

“Everything’s fine,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.”

He does. He trusts me.

I want to prove him right.