Chapter 158

I lean back and let this news settle into my bones. When Rowan first told me about her meeting with Carver, I’d been furious. When she explained her strategy—offering the Solovyovs as sacrifice to redirect FBI attention— I’d been skeptical at best.

But now…

Well, fuck. She was right.

“There’s more,” Arkady continues. He taps something on his phone before sliding it across the desk to me. “The Barkov family—what’s left of them— has reached out. They want to meet. The Yershovs, too. Even the fucking Kozlovs are making noise about a potential alliance.”

“Opportunistic fucks,” I mutter in disgust.

“They’re rats fleeing a sinking ship,” Arkady corrects. “Afraid they’re next on the FBI’s hit list. They want our protection—and they’re willing to pay top fuckin’ dollar for it, man. This shit is a gold mine.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. For months, we’ve been fighting a multifront war—Solovyovs, my father’s loyalists, the FBI, various disgruntled Bratva families who saw us as vulnerable.

Now, those same enemies are crawling on their bellies to our door, begging for sanctuary.

“My wife,” I say slowly, a vicious pride spreading through my chest like blood in water, “is a fucking genius.”

Arkady snorts. “Don’t tell her that. Her ego’s already big enough.”

“Schedule the meetings. One by one, not all at once. We negotiate from a position of strength.” I stand, gathering the files. “And double the security detail on the compound. Just because they’re asking for alliance doesn’t mean they won’t try to eliminate competition if the opportunity presents itself.”

“As always, it is already done, because I’m the best.” Arkady rises, then pauses halfway to his feet. “You going to tell her?”

“Tell who what?”

“Rowan, dumbass.” He gives me a look that suggests I’m being deliberately dense. “That her crazy plan actually worked.”

I look toward the open door and the yawning hallway beyond it. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m going to tell her.”

I find Rowan in our bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed with a book open in her lap. She’s not reading it. The pages haven’t turned in the three minutes I’ve been standing in the doorway watching her stare at nothing.

“You were right,” I say, finally stepping into the room.

Her head jerks up, startled. Those green eyes—Grigor’s eyes, not that I’ll ever say that out loud—widen with something that looks dangerously like fear.

“About…?”

“The FBI.” I close the door behind me. “Your plan worked. Better than we could have imagined. They’re dismantling the Solovyovs as we speak.”

For a split second, triumph flashes across her face—a glimpse of the fierce woman I married. Then it’s gone, replaced by the same guarded wariness that’s been shadowing her eyes since I came home.

“That’s good,” she says at last.

“Good?” I laugh as I join her on the edge of the bed. “It’s fucking brilliant, Rowan. The Bratva families that have been gunning for us are now begging for protection. The FBI is so focused on the Solovyovs they’ve forgotten we exist. You turned our worst enemies into our biggest opportunity.”

She nods, eyes averted. “I’m glad.”

“Glad? That’s all you have to say?” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it back. I frown. “Talk to me, Rowan. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.” She closes her book with a snap. “I’m tired, Vince. It’s been a long few days.”

“Bullshit.” I stand. Frustration crackles through me like lightning seeking ground. “You’ve been looking at me like I’m a stranger since I got back from Costa Rica. Like you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she says, but there’s no conviction in it.

“Then what? The pregnancy test? I told you, we can try again when —”

“The Cayman Islands,” she blurts out, looking immediately like she wishes she could stuff the words back down her throat. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Understanding dawns cold and sharp. It’s absurd that I didn’t see it before, but all she had to say was those three little words and the whole piece swims into resolution.

“You think I’m planning… You found the offshore accounts in my name and thought—what? That I’m building myself an escape hatch without you and Sofiya?”

Her silence is answer enough.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“You actually believe I could do that,” I say flatly.

“I didn’t know what to think, Vince.” She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly small and vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache. “All those accounts in your name only. Properties I’ve never heard of. Money I didn’t know existed. Two plus two is four, you know?”

I scrub a hand down my face, marveling at how spectacularly I’ve failed to communicate with the one person who matters most.

“Those accounts are a decoy, Rowan.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “What?”

“A red herring. Breadcrumbs.” I sit beside her again, close enough to touch but not reaching for her yet. “The FBI, the Bratva, our enemies—they’re all looking for my assets. For leverage they can use against us.” I gesture toward the door, where somewhere beyond it, Sofiya sleeps in her crib. “For ways to hurt the people I love.”

Her lips part in shock as I keep talking.

“So I built a convincing trap. Accounts that look like hidden assets but are actually monitored by the FBI. Properties that appear to be secret hideaways but are under surveillance. Money trails designed specifically to be found and followed—leading everyone away from where the real assets are kept.”

“And where are the real assets kept?” she asks, still not entirely convinced.

I hold her gaze steadily. “In trusts under shell companies—registered to you and Sofiya. All that stuff is protected by lawyers who don’t know they’re working for me, and it’s accessible to you—and only to you—in the event of my death or imprisonment.”

Her jaw falls all the way open. “You… you put everything in our names?”

“Everything that matters.” I reach for her hand again, and this time, she doesn’t wrench away. “I’m not building an escape route for myself, Rowan. I’m building a safety net for my girls.”

Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “I thought you were planning to leave us behind.”

“Never.” I cup her face in my hands, willing her to believe me. “You and Sofiya are the only things in this world I wouldn’t leave behind.”

A tear slips down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’m an idiot.”

“No.” I brush the tear away with my thumb. “I’m sorry for not telling you. For letting you think, even for a moment, that I’d abandon my family.”

“It’s not just that.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been so unstable since the pregnancy test. The way I went from dreading it to wanting it to mourning it… I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

I pull her to me, tucking her head under my chin. She burrows there with a grateful sigh like it’s the exact medicine she needed. “You’ve been through hell, Rowan. We both have. You’re allowed to want things, even if they scare you. You’re allowed to grieve for things that never were.”

Her arms wind around me, holding on as if I’m the only solid thing in a world gone liquid with uncertainty.

“I want to try again,” she whispers against my throat. “For another baby, I mean. When things are more stable.”

“When things are more stable,” I agree, running my hand down the slender curve of her spine. “I promise you, we’re getting there.”