Page 61 of Filthy Lies

“I find it pretty fucking ironic, actually.” Vince leans forward. “You stayed away to protect her, yet here she is anyway—married to me, mother to my child, directly in the line of fire.”

“Yes.” Grigor’s eyes narrow. “Here she is. Perhaps ifyouhad stayed away as well, she would be safe now.”

My hand shoots out, grabbing Vince’s wrist before he can respond. “Stop. Both of you.”

To my surprise, they do.

I take a deep breath. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? After all these years of watching from the shadows, why step into the light?”

Grigor’s eyes drop to Sofiya. “Because now, there is more at stake than just you. Now, there is a child. My blood. The next generation. And family must be protected—especially in our world.”

“Ourworld?” I repeat. “You claimed you wanted me far from your world.”

“That time has passed.” Grigor gestures to Vince, to the guards at the door. “You have chosen your path, whether I wished it for you or not. And now, you need every protection available.”

I feel Sofiya stir again, making those little snuffling sounds that precede waking. On instinct, I rock gently, soothing her.

“May I?” Grigor asks, his eyes on Sofiya.

Vince’s entire body coils with tension. “Not a fucking chance.”

But something in me—some reckless curiosity—overrides caution. “It’s okay,” I tell Vince.

Carefully, I adjust the blanket so Grigor can see Sofiya’s face. I don’t hand her over—I’m notthattrusting—but I allow him this glimpse of his granddaughter.

Grigor’s expression transforms again. The last of the hardness melts away. In place of the mob boss is simply an old grandfather admiring his kin for the first time.

“She’s perfect,” he murmurs.

“Yes. She is.”

Grigor reaches slowly into his jacket pocket. Vince’s hand immediately goes to his hip, where I know his gun rests.

But Grigor only pulls out a small velvet box. “For her,” he explains, placing it on the table. “A reminder of where she comes from.”

I make no move to take it. “And where is that, exactly?”

“From people who protect what is theirs.”

I stare at the box for a long moment before finally reaching for it. Inside rests a delicate gold bracelet sized for an infant’s wrist. A small charm hangs from it—a green emerald set in gold.

I close the box and set it aside, neither accepting nor rejecting the gift. “I didn’t come here for presents.”

“No.” Grigor sits back. “You came for answers.”

“I came because my mother asked me to.” I meet his gaze directly. “Before she dies, she wanted me to understand where I come from.”

“And do you?”

I look at this man—this stranger with my eyes, this criminal who sent anonymous gifts, this shadow who watched over me from a distance he deemed safe.

“I’m starting to.” I look at Vince, who’s still wary, then back to Grigor, whose posture is exactly the same as my husband’s.

Both men are doing what they think is right to protect the people they loved. Two chips from the same block of ice.

“I have to ask,” I say. “You knew I was working at Akopov Industries. You knew I was near Vince. Why not warn me? Why let me walk into that world blind?”

Grigor considers the question. “Would you have believed me? A stranger claiming to be your father, warning you away from a job opportunity?”

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