Page 73 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Viktor

Crying.

So much crying.

I didn’t know it was possible for a human being to shed this many tears without shriveling into a raisin, but Theo is still chubby and alive and … crying.

“I cut the crusts off,” I say helplessly. This is the third peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve made in ten minutes, and if I have to make another one, I might start crying.

Ask me to cut off a man’s hand for stealing from my stash house? Done.

Ask me to cut off the crust of a four-year-old’s sandwich for the third time, knowing he will only cry harder and ask for a new sandwich entirely? No way. I’m out. I can’t handle it.

How did Molly handle it?

For the thousandth time since she left a day ago, I wonder how in the hell Molly did this on her own. Without a house or any help, even. It’s unfathomable.

“There is shrimp stir-fry in the fridge,” I say, snagging the plate before Theo can shove it onto the floor, adding it to the pile of food he has refused. “I can heat that up.”

Do kids like shrimp? Or stir-fry? I need to ask the chef to make more kid-friendly meals. Molly never mentioned it being an issue before, but maybe she was handling Theo’s meals on her own. Or, more likely, she was able to manage Theo. He probably ate fine when she was here.

“No!” he screams, testing the upper reaches of the sound barrier and making my splitting headache even worse.

When the nanny brought Theo home the morning after Molly and I were married, Theo went tearing through the house to find his mom. He ran in and out of nearly every room in the house calling her name. After I finally broke the news to him that I didn’t know where his mother was, Theo plopped down in the middle of the floor, threw his head back, and wailed. I swear he hasn’t stopped crying since. By the time I went in search of the nanny to ask for her help, she’d ducked out. If I hadn’t felt so guilty about Molly disappearing in the middle of the night, I would have fired the nanny simply for running out on her charge before I’d given her permission to leave.

I toss the plate on the counter, letting it clatter into the sink, and drop my face into my hands.

Waking up in the morning to find Molly gone—to find her closet empty and her phone and purse missing—was one of the worst days of my life. That night, we’d been so close. Not just physically, but emotionally. At least, I thought so.

It felt like finally the walls between us were coming down, and I could imagine a future in which Molly and Theo were both safe. Safe from Fedor and the many obstacles she’d overcome in the last four years. We would be a family. Dysfunctional and untraditional and messy, but a family, nonetheless.

Theo crawls down from the table and runs into the living room. He flops onto the sofa and cries into the cushion, and I don’t even have the energy to chase after him. Nothing I can say will make him feel better, anyway. He misses his mom.

I miss her too.

I’m not entirely sure when the idea of Molly actually being my wife became a hope of mine rather than a pragmatic solution to a problem, but there it is, regardless, burning a hole through the center of my chest.

I wanted her to stay and be happy and safe with me, but instead, she’s gone. She chose to leave her son behind and run rather than be married to me.

I asked the guard on duty that night whether Molly said anything when she left, and he said no. In fact, he didn’t ask her a single question. As soon as he realized she didn’t have Theo with her, she was free to leave.

“But she left with luggage in the middle of the night. You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?” I asked through clenched teeth.

He shrugged but had the good sense to look nervous. “You just said not to let Theo leave the house.”

I nearly killed him for being the world’s biggest idiot, but he was right. My command was to keep Theo from escaping because I never in a million years would have guessed Molly would leave without her son.

She probably knew the entire Bratva would be after her if she took Theo with her. Now that Fedor knows about Theo, he can’t just disappear. It would raise too many questions. Questions I’m not prepared to answer. Molly also probably knew Theo would be safer with me. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to understand how she could leave. Theo was Molly’s world. Her everything. How could she just give him up?

Theo kicks his feet and thrashes through his tenth temper tantrum of the day, knocking over an end table. He sends a stack of Molly’s design books flying across the floor.

She gave up everything—her son and her dreams—and left. And for the first time, I let myself consider that I won’t ever see her again.

Theo screams into the cushion, crying and raging, and I wish I could do the same. Instead, I run a hand down my face and walk over to the couch to try and comfort him. He is my responsibility now, and I have no idea what I’m doing.

* * *

I talkto Theo until he finally falls asleep for his nap. The minute he does, I stumble across the hallway and collapse behind my desk.

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