Page 156 of Filthy Lies

“No. I think he’ll recognize an opportunity when he sees one.” I move toward the door, eager to get in and get out before my courage fails me. “Andrei Akopov has federal judges and senators in his pocket. He’s been bribing officials for decades.”

Natalie steps between me and the exit. “Row, listen to yourself. You’re talking about going after the head of the Akopov family. Vince’s father. A man who’s survived more assassination attempts than most people have had hot meals.”

“I know exactly who he is,” I snap. “He’s the man who tried to have my husband killed.”

“And you think you can take him down alone?”

“Who said I’m alone?”

The flash drive feels heavy in my pocket as I walk away.

For three days, I work in secret. While Vince divides his time between Arkady’s hospital room and meetings with his lieutenants, I build my case. The evidence is damning—emails between Andrei and Barkov outlining exactly how to sabotage the Costa Rica development. Bank transfers coinciding precisely with “accidents” at construction sites. Recorded conversations discussing how to redirect FBI attention back to Vince when the time was right.

I compile it methodically, creating copies, securing them in locations no one would think to look. When the file is complete, I add one final piece: my own testimony. A recorded statement detailing everything I’ve witnessed since marrying into the Akopov family.

Insurance, in case things go sideways.

On the fourth day, my phone rings. Vince’s name flashes on the screen. “Arkady’s awake,” he says without preamble when I answer.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I zip my laptop into my bag, mind racing. “How is he?”

“Weak. But alive.” A pause. “Where are you?”

“Running errands,” I lie smoothly. “Things for Sofiya. I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up before he can question me further, guilt coiling like a snake in my gut. More lies. More secrets. The very things I’ve condemned him for.

But some lies are necessary. Some secrets protect more than they harm.

I head to the hospital, my bag clutched tightly to my chest like the contraband it contains. The evidence against Andrei is in there, along with the beginning threads of my plan to save Vince from himself.

Arkady looks like death warmed over when I enter his room. Skin the color of old parchment stretched over bones that seem too prominent. Tubes and wires connect him to machines that beep and hum, the symphony of grim survival.

Vince sits beside him, bent forward with his elbows on his knees. When he looks up at me, the naked relief in his eyes makes my resolve waver.

“Hey,” I say, setting my bag down carefully by the door. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Arkady’s laugh is more of a wheeze. “Not sure I’m all the way back yet.”

I move to the opposite side of the bed from Vince, taking Arkady’s free hand in mine. It feels cold, frail, nothing like the strong grip I remember.

Vince stands, pressing a hand to Arkady’s shoulder. “I’ll be back tonight. Try not to die while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Arkady mumbles, already drifting off.

I follow Vince out. In the hallway, he pulls me against him without warning. His face buries in my neck, breath hot and ragged against my skin.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, words muffled.

I allow myself one moment of weakness, one moment to lean into his strength, before I pull back. “Of course I came.”

“Where were you really?” His eyes search mine. “And don’t say ‘errands.’ I have men watching the shopping centers.”

Of course he does. I should have known better.

“I was with Natalie,” I admit, offering a partial truth. “Getting some perspective.”

“Perspective.” He repeats the word like he’s testing it for poison. “On what?”

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