Page 46 of Filthy Lies

Mom meets my eyes with quiet certainty. “No, sweetheart. I mean Grigor.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “You know about Grigor? But how?—”

“Oh, Rowan.” She reaches for my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “Of course I know. I’ve always known who your father is.”

“But— Wait. How? When? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The questions tumble out, each one louder than the last.

“I knew this day would come.” She sighs, pushing herself to sit straighter and ignoring my efforts to help. “I met Grigor Petrov in the summer of 1995. I was waitressing at a Russian restaurant in Brighton Beach to pay for grad school.”

I lean forward, hungry for every detail of this story I’ve never heard.

“He came in every Thursday. Always sat in my section and always, always left ridiculous tips.” A faint smile touches her lips. “He was charming. Almost too charming. The kind of man your grandmother warned me about.”

“Did you know who he was?” I ask. “Or what he was?”

“Not at first. By the time I figured it out, I was already in love with him.” Her voice grows wistful. “We had three months together.”

“What happened?”

“Reality intruded. There was an incident. A rival of his was found dead. The FBI started asking questions.” She looks away. “Grigorwanted to marry me, to bring me into his world. But I’d seen enough to know I couldn’t live that life.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. Here I am, married to a Bratvapakhan, living exactly the life my mother fled.

“So you left him?”

She nods. “I disappeared. Moved to Albany.” She meets my eyes again. “I was two months pregnant with you.”

“Did he know?” My voice barely rises above a whisper.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I never told him. I thought I was protecting you.”

My entire understanding of my past—of myself—wobbles beneath my feet.

“He knows now,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen. “How?”

I give her the abbreviated version—Vince’s investigation, the folder with my name, the revelation that I’m Grigor’s daughter.

“… and now, he wants to meet me,” I finish. “He’s given us an ultimatum.”

Mom closes her eyes briefly. “Be careful, Rowan. Grigor isn’t evil, but he’s complicated. He lives by a different code.”

“Did you love him?” I need to know, suddenly desperate to understand this piece of my history.

“With my whole heart.” No hesitation. “He’s the only man I ever truly loved.”

“Then why?—”

“Because love isn’t always enough.” She squeezes my hand again. “Sometimes, we have to choose between what we want and what is right.”

Then she falls back onto the pillows, too tired for more.

But my mind is reeling. All those years of wondering. All those unanswered questions. The whole time, my mother knew. She always knew.

And now, she’s leaving me, just as the puzzle pieces are finally falling into place.

I stand and leave a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Mom.”

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