Chapter 160 Chapter 160 The One and Only Visit
They moved Ivan to a facility in California. It’s been months now—months of letters, phone calls, pictures. His case blew up in the media. His mugshot went everywhere. His words, his face—everywhere. Panties across the internet have been wet this entire time. Ivan has a fucking fan club now, which, honestly, isn’t surprising. That mugshot alone… him in that tennis polo, buttons undone just enough, tattoos from the neck down, that grin, those dimples, those dark eyes.
The holidays came and went without much meaning. Sergey has been trying harder than ever to get me to be with him, to move on. According to him, Ivan is bad news, a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe he’s right. But I haven’t been with anyone—not even Dimitri.
Dimitri went back to Italy. We talk, we try, but distance does what distance always does. It stretches things thin, pulls at the seams until everything feels fragile. We both feel it. He knows something is off between us, even if we don’t say it outright. We’re trying to hold onto something that exists across continents, across time zones, across lives that don’t quite align anymore. His job consumes him.
Being in Spain with the Pavlovs after New Year’s wasn’t the same either. Without Ivan, everything felt hollow, like something essential was missing from the air itself. I slept next to Dimitri, but we barely touched. The warmth was there, but the connection wasn’t. It felt like lying next to a stranger I used to know.
School and work keep me busy, at least on the surface. They fill the hours, give me structure, something to hold onto. And soon, the baby will be here. Just a few more weeks.
Vladimira assured me—Ivan is the father. There’s no doubt. Only a handful of people know. Petia. Yulia. That’s it. Petia and Vladimira are in France, handling everything quietly, efficiently. It’s a boy. I’ve seen the ultrasound pictures, even a short video of his heartbeat. I haven’t met him yet, haven’t held him, but I already feel something deep and undeniable. Love. It’s there, growing stronger with every passing day.
When we get back from this trip, I’ll have to prepare. For everything that comes next.
I’ll have to tell Ivan.
I’ll have to tell Dimitri.
But not yet.
I feel guilty keeping it from them, but what can Ivan even do? He’s in prison. Dimitri is across the Atlantic, living a life that barely overlaps with mine anymore. Right now, it feels easier to carry this alone.
Even now, sitting next to Dimitri in the car, it still feels like distance exists between us, like an invisible wall neither of us can break through. We’re driving to see Ivan. Dimitri didn’t tell him I’m coming—I’m a surprise.
The dress I’m wearing feels ridiculous. Too much. Too bold. I told Dimitri they wouldn’t let me in wearing it, but he just smirked and assured me he had it handled. Ivan gets certain privileges because of who he is. Of course he does.
I smooth the fabric over my thighs, suddenly self-conscious.
“You look great,” Dimitri says, bringing my hand to his lips.
I nod, forcing a small smile.
He parks the car, and we step out into the dry California heat. Before we reach the entrance, he stops me, his hand catching my arm gently.
“You can have a conjugal visit with him, if you want,” he says, studying my face carefully. “Do you want me to set it up?”
I step closer, gripping the front of his sweatshirt, my fingers brushing over the zipper.
“Will you be in there too?” I ask, a teasing smirk pulling at my lips.
Dimitri laughs softly, shaking his head. “I would love to,” he admits, his voice low, “but I think Ivan deserves that time alone with you.” His expression softens, something more serious slipping through. “I know things have been rough between us. Something’s off. I feel it.”
He hesitates, like he’s debating whether to continue.
“When you finish school,” he says finally, “we should go on vacation. Anywhere you want.”
“Okay,” I reply simply.
He leans down and kisses me, slow and familiar, but it doesn’t linger.
Walking inside the facility is unsettling. The air is sterile, heavy with something unspoken. The main room is large, with a circular counter in the center. Windowed rooms line the walls, all with closed blinds. Guards stand everywhere, watching, waiting. It’s overwhelming.
We approach the desk, sign in, hand over our IDs. The woman behind the counter types something into her computer, barely looking at us.
“You’ll have to wait in the main room,” she says. “He’s currently in a conjugal visit.”
“What?” The word slips out before I can stop it.
I heard her. I know exactly what she said. But part of me wants to believe I didn’t.
Maybe it’s his parents. Family visits count too, right? It doesn’t have to mean—
Something inside me snaps. Quiet, but sharp. A crack I can feel spreading through my chest.
Dimitri’s grip on my hand tightens, almost painfully so. Good. Because I want to run. Out of the building. Out of this entire situation.
She repeats herself, slower this time.
“His time is almost up.”
Her gaze shifts toward one of the doors. Three rooms down.
The door opens.
I try to swallow, but there’s something lodged in my throat, too big, too heavy.
Yulia.
She steps out first, wearing barely there clothes, her hair a mess, her expression unreadable. Ivan follows behind her, dressed in blue scrubs. A guard moves in immediately, cuffing him.
They both look up.
Their eyes meet ours.
And just like that, my chest splits open.
Again.
I let him do this to me again.
The pain is immediate, overwhelming, like something tearing straight through me. I feel it in my stomach, my chest, my throat. Regret crashes over me so hard it almost knocks me off my feet. For the first time in years, I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, like something is crawling beneath it, like I need to tear it off just to breathe.
I barely manage to speak.
“Give me your sweatshirt,” I tell Dimitri, my voice shaking. “And the car keys.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his sweatshirt around my shoulders, warm and grounding, and places the keys in my hand.
“Let’s go,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Go see your brother,” I reply, louder this time. Loud enough for the words to echo in the quiet hallway. “I never want to see him again. Never.”
Ivan doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. There’s no remorse in his eyes. Not even the decency to look ashamed for being caught.
That’s what hurts the most.
I feel the bile rise in my throat, my hand flying to my mouth as I try to keep it down. I focus on breathing, on putting one foot in front of the other, on getting out of that building.
Out of that moment.
Out of him.
I make it to the car before everything breaks.
And in the silence, with no one watching, no one listening—
I fall apart.
He broke me again.