Page 48 of Scarlet Chains
The one pure thing in this cesspit of a world, and he’s stuck in some bureaucratic nightmare while I sit here wallowing in self-pity like apizda.
I would do anything for him.Anything.I’ll bribe every single fucking bureaucrat in Boston if I have to. Hell, I’ll buy the entire adoption agency if that’s what it takes. Money talks louder than morals in this world, and I’ve got enough green to make even the most righteoussvolochsing a different tune.
It’s only a matter of time before we can reunite and make up for all the time we lost. All those months I didn’t even know he existed— his first steps, his first words, the nightmares I wasn’t there to chase away because I thought he’d died with his mother. The guilt gnaws at me, but I push it down.
Focus on the future.
Focus on getting him back.
The shrill ring of my phone snaps me back to reality. I snatch it up after glancing at the screen.
“Any news?” The words tear from my throat before fucking Simpson can even speak.
“There’s progress, Mr. Sidorov,” his voice grates through the speaker, “but I need to be upfront. It looks like the process can take months. It’s extremely bureaucratic. We need to verify your documents, review custody laws, and navigate the courts.”
Months?
The word leaves me reeling. My vision blurs red around the edges, and I have to grip the desk to keep from putting my fist through the wall. Months of my son in some sterile orphanage, thinking no one wants him. Months of him sleeping in a sterile crib surrounded by strangers while his real father sits in hotel rooms drinking himself into oblivion.
“I want my son!” The words explode from me, echoing off the walls of this suffocating room. A lamp rattles on the nightstand from the force of my voice.
Mr. Simpson’s tone remains maddeningly calm, though I can hear the faintest hint of irritation bleeding through his professional mask.
“Look, I understand your frustration. I assure you, I’m on your side. But the laws are in place to ensure the child’s best interests. This process isn’t designed for speed, Mr. Sidorov.”
Child’s best interests.
The phrase makes me want to reach through the phone and strangle thisdebil. As if anyone knows what’s best for Slava better than his own father. As if some pencil-pushing bureaucrat gives a shit about my boy beyond the paperwork on his desk.
“How can we speed it up then?” I grunt, fighting to keep my voice below a roar.
The pause stretches long enough that I wonder if the line went dead. Then Simpson clears his throat, and I can practically hear him choosing his words carefully.
“Well,” he starts, then stops. Another pause. “It would be a lot easier if—”
“If what?” I bark, my patience hanging by a thread so thin it’s practically transparent.
“If you were married.” He finishes his sentence with the tone of a man delivering a cancer diagnosis. “Single fathers don’t have strong standing in custody cases, especially when the child has been previously adopted and the situation involves international jurisdictions.”
Fuck!
Fuck bureaucracy.
Fuck this entire goddamn system.
“This is fucking bullshit,” I snarl, ending the call before he can respond. I pace the room like a caged wolf, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles crack. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the city lights outside mocking me with their indifference.
I need answers. I need solutions. I need someone who understands how this fucked-up world really works. Someone knows how to navigate bullshit bureaucracy.
Melor. He’ll know what to do. He always does.
My brother picks up on the second ring, because he usually does. It’s one of the things I’ve always respected about myvor—he’s reliable when it counts.
“Tell me,” I snap, skipping any pleasantries because pleasantries are for people who have time to waste. “I’m told it would be quicker for the adoption to go through if I was married. Is it true?”
“It’s common sense,mudak,” he says, and I can picture him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line. “It doesn’t take a legal genius to figure that out. I hope you didn’t lose your temper with some bureaucrat, Osip. Losing your cool doesn’t exactly help your case.”
The casual way he says it makes my teeth grind. Like this is just another business problem to be solved, not my entire fucking world hanging in the balance.
