Chapter 158 Chapter 158 Prep Work
I am utterly uncomfortable sitting in the office of John Marigold, one of the best criminal defense attorneys money can buy. The space is too polished, too quiet, too controlled. Everything smells faintly of leather and expensive cologne. I shift in the large leather chair, trying to compose myself, but there’s no position that feels right. My nerves are crawling under my skin. Illia Sr. and Dimitri sit across from me, both silent, both watching everything without saying a word.
John laces his fingers together at the head of the conference table and clears his throat, the sound cutting through the tension.
“They will be asking you questions about that night,” he says calmly. “Can we go over it together? Tell me how you remember the last forty-eight hours. We can decide what sounds good and what we might want to skip over.”
I offer him a small smile, though it feels forced. I already know what we need to skip—the fight Ivan and I had outside the Green Door, the other incident at Vortex. There’s a lot that doesn’t need to see the light of day.
Still, I start talking.
I explain what happened at my birthday party, every detail I can recall. Watching John try to keep a straight face is almost laughable. His professionalism is hanging on by a thread, and I can see the exact moment it starts slipping. Then I tell him who I spent the night with, and from there it only gets worse. The soccer game. Mason. The party at my place. The Green Door. Some of the activities that happened there.
John loses that battle completely. A flush creeps across his cheeks, red spreading up to his ears. He tries to hide it, but it’s impossible.
I haven’t even turned to look at Illia Sr. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking right now. I don’t want to see the judgment—or worse, the disappointment. Instead, I keep going. I tell John about the fight I had with Ivan, how Dimitri stepped in, the restaurant, and then… how both Dimitri and Ivan ended up at my place after.
“Okay… well,” John exhales, leaning back slightly. “That was a lot.”
“Yes,” I reply, my tone light but deliberate. “I imagine there’s quite a bit we might want to skip.”
I turn my head slightly, glancing at Dimitri.
Both he and his father look deadly serious. Not a flicker of amusement, not even discomfort—just cold focus. I understand this is serious, but Dimitri should have thought about that before he and Ivan went and did something so fucking stupid. The only reason Dimitri isn’t sitting in a cell right now is because he wasn’t caught on camera, and Dragon told the police only Ivan hit him. Which is technically true, I guess—but they were both there.
“They still haven’t found the weapon?” Illia Sr. asks.
Before John can answer, I cut in. “They won’t. That will never be found.”
The room stills for half a second.
“I did not hear any of that,” John says smoothly, not missing a beat.
Illia Sr. gives me a small nod, and for a brief moment I see it—approval. I guess I really am my father’s daughter.
“The DA is saying they have a pattern of violence toward the victim,” John continues, shifting back into his role. “There was an incident when you separated. Ivan threatened him with a gun.”
“He what?” Illia Sr.’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and loud. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him raise it like that, and it’s terrifying.
I stay calm. I have to.
“I came home to find my then fiancé nude, with a girl in his lap,” I say evenly. “All his friends were in similar positions. Before that, he asked me to let his friends violate me.” The words taste bitter, but I don’t stop. “So when I needed to leave his house to collect my things, Ivan, Alek, and Gemma came with me. And yes, Ivan had his gun. But he didn’t threaten them. He showed it. That’s all. All of my ex’s friends were still there.”
I pause, letting it settle.
“I am a victim of sexual assault and domestic abuse,” I continue, my voice steady. “He was protecting me from further violence.”
“Have you ever feared the victim in this case?” John asks.
“Not until he told me he wanted his friends to gang bang me,” I reply. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, realizing how much I’m giving away. I don’t want all of this used, but it’s already out there.
Dimitri is fuming. I can feel it without even looking at him. No one knew all of this—not like this, not in detail. I’m not looking forward to it becoming public, to it being picked apart and twisted.
“Yes,” I add, before anyone else can speak. “Before you ask, you can use any and all of that. Whatever will help Ivan.”
John nods slowly. “Thank you, Miss Dimitrova. That is all we needed from you. I will give you a heads-up if there is any footage of your fight with my client. Other than that, answer the questions truthfully. I believe we have a strong chance.”
Strong chance.
The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.
Dimitri walks me out to my car afterward. The hallway feels too narrow, the air too thick. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches for my hand and holds it tighter than he ever has before. It’s almost uncomfortable.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks finally.
I stop walking and pull my hand away from his.
“When exactly was I supposed to tell you?” I shoot back. “What are you even saying? We weren’t talking, remember? Or did you forget—you never gave me your number.”
He doesn’t respond right away, and that only irritates me more.
“It was between me and my fiancé,” I continue, my voice sharper now. “It had nothing to do with you. I regret not leaving him then, but that’s on me.”
I shake my head, frustration bubbling over.
What the fuck am I even doing with these two?
They act like out-of-control teenagers, like consequences don’t exist for them. But they do. We’re not kids. There are real, adult consequences to the shit they pull.
“You guys can’t just go around beating every ex I’ve ever had,” I snap, stepping closer to him. “Who the fuck cares what he said? You walk the fuck away.”
My hands press against Dimitri’s chest, firm, grounding, but also pushing back.
Because someone has to.