I wake to sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows and an empty space beside me where Nikandr should be. The sheets are cold to the touch, which means he has been gone for hours. I roll over and check my phone. The screen displays 8:43 a.m. I listen for sounds of movement elsewhere in the house, but I hear nothing.
A knot of unease forms in my stomach as I pull on a robe and pad barefoot through the hallway. His office is empty, with the desk cleared except for the ultrasound photo that sits in its usual place of honor. The kitchen shows no signs of recent use. There is no coffee cup in the sink and no plate in the dishwasher.
It appears as though he vanished into thin air.
I find one of the guards stationed near the front entrance, a man whose name I have never learned despite weeks of seeing him around the estate. He straightens when he sees me approach.
“Where’s Nikandr?”
The guard maintains a neutral expression. “He left early this morning, ma’am. Business meeting.”
The vague answer does nothing to ease the growing anxiety clawing at my chest. “What kind of business meeting?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have those details.”
I study his face, looking for tells that might give me more information. He maintains eye contact, but there’s something carefully neutral about his expression that makes me think he knows more than he admits. “When did he leave?”
“Around five a.m.”
I nod and retreat to the kitchen, though my unease deepens with each passing minute. Five in the morning isn’t unusual for Nikandr because he’s an early riser, but something about this feels different. Wrong, somehow.
I make coffee and settle at the kitchen island with my phone, checking for missed calls or text messages. There are none. I try calling him directly, but the call goes straight to voicemail after a single ring. The sound of his recorded voice makes my chest tighten. “You’ve reached Nikandr Belov. Leave a message.”
“Hey, it’s me. Just wondering where you are and when you’ll be home. Call me back when you get this.” I hang up and stare at the phone, willing it to ring with his return call. Ten minutes pass, then twenty, then an hour passes without any response.
By noon, the bad feeling has evolved into something closer to panic. I’ve called three more times, with each call going directly to voicemail. I have texted twice with no response. I have even asked for Maksim’s contact information from the guard, only to be told he’s “unavailable” as well.
I pace the length of the sunroom with one hand pressed to my belly where our daughter moves restlessly, as if sensing my agitation. Every scenario my mind conjures is worse than the last. Car accidents, rival syndicates, police raids, and ambushes… Each possibility makes my heart race faster.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” I whisper, though I am not sure I believe it myself. “Daddy’s just busy with work.”
Work. A week ago, Nikandr told me he was stepping away from the organization permanently. This morning, he disappeared without a word. When my phone finally rings at 2:15 p.m., I lunge for it so quickly I nearly knock over my water glass. “Nikandr?”
Maksim’s voice is carefully controlled, which immediately sets off alarm bells in my head. “It’s Maksim.”
“Where is he? Is he okay?”
“He’s alive. He was injured during an operation this morning, but he’s going to be fine.”
The words stun me, stealing my breath and making the room spin around me. Injured. Operation. This morning. “What kind of operation?” I sound far more composed—and less angry—than I feel.
“He went after Vadim, but it was a trap. Vadim wasn’t there, but his people were waiting. Nikandr took a bullet to the side during the extraction.”
I sink onto the couch because my legs suddenly can’t support my weight. “How bad?”
“It was a through and through that missed vital organs. He’s getting stitched up at one of our medical facilities now and should be home in a few hours.”
The relief that washes over me is immediately followed by something much darker. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
Maksim is quiet for a long moment. “He asked me not to call you. He didn’t want you to worry about something you couldn’t control, but I figured you’d be wondering where he was.”
I close my eyes and try to process what this means. “I meant why didn’t he tell me about the plan to go after Vadim but thank you for telling me.”
He hesitates for a moment, and his tone gentles. “He loves you, Sabrina. Everything he did today was about protecting you and the baby.”
“Yes, everything but keeping a promise to me.” I end the call and set aside the phone with hands that shake slightly. For several minutes, I sit in perfect silence, processing what Maksim told me. Nikandr is alive. He’s injured but going to be okay. He went after Vadim without telling me, despite promising a week ago there would be no more secrets between us.
The numbness gives way to something much worse. A burning sense of betrayal starts in my chest and spreads through my entire body like poison.
He lied to me.
After everything we have shared, after all the promises and plans and declarations of love, he looked me in the eye and lied. Not directly, maybe, but through omission. He went after Vadim and chose not to tell me after swearing to me he’d let me know before he went to that final confrontation with Vadim, the one that was supposed to set us free and start our new future. Instead, it’s the demise of every fledgling dream.
I push myself up from the couch and begin pacing again, this time with purpose rather than aimless anxiety. Each step helps clarify the rage building inside me, sharpening it into something I can use.
The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound could. It’s not just that he lied. He obviously never intended to keep his promise in the first place. All those conversations about stepping away from the organization, about building a peaceful life together, and choosing our family over everything else… How much of it was real, and how much was just telling me what I wanted to hear?
I stop pacing and wrap my arms around my belly, trying to provide comfort to the daughter who has been kicking restlessly for the past hour. She can probably sense my emotional turmoil, and the thought makes me feel guilty on top of everything else.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy’s just figuring out some things.”
By the time I hear the front door open a little after four, I’ve been rehearsing this conversation for over two hours. I know exactly what I am going to say and how I am going to handle his explanations and excuses. I’m ready.
What I am not prepared for is the sight of him limping through the foyer. His face is pale with exhaustion, and his left side is carefully protected by the way he holds his arm. There’s dried blood on his shirt collar, and the careful way he moves tells me he’s in more pain than he wants to admit.
For a split second, every argument I’ve prepared dissolves into relief that he’s alive and home. Then I remember why he is injured in the first place, and the anger comes flooding back twice as strong. I cross my arms and study his face. “ How was your…business meeting?” I ask with heavy irony.
He stops in the doorway, and his expression shifts as he realizes I know exactly what happened. “Sabrina—”
I hold up a hand to stop whatever explanation he plans to offer. “Don’t lie to me again. I already know about Vadim, the trap, and you getting shot. Maksim called me.”
His jaw tightens with what might be frustration or anger. “I told him not to—”
I snap the words, “I’m glad he did. Otherwise, I would have spent the entire day wondering if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.” I glare at him. “He was a better partner to me than you were today, which means you should be ashamed of the choices you’ve made.”
He takes a careful step forward, wincing slightly. “I was going to tell you when I got home.”
“After the fact.” I throw up my hands in disgust. “After you’d already risked everything without giving me a chance to—” I stop myself before saying something I can’t take back. “You promised me no more secrets.”
“This wasn’t about keeping secrets. It was about protecting you from—”
I feel my voice rise with each word. “From what? From knowing the man I love is still choosing violence over safety? From understanding all those promises about stepping away from this life were complete bullshit?”
The accusation hangs between us. I watch his face cycle through several emotions, including guilt, frustration, and something that might be the shame he should be feeling.
He shifts his weight carefully. “I told you I had to deal with Vadim before we could be truly free.”
“You also promised you’d tell me when you were planning to go after him. You gave me your word we wouldn’t have any more secrets between us.”
“I knew you’d try to stop me.”
The admission is like a slap across the face. “So you decided to lie instead?”
He grunts. “I decided to handle it myself so you wouldn’t have to worry about something you couldn’t control.”
“I knew you had to go after him, but you were supposed to warn me.” I stare at him, trying to reconcile this man with the one who held me while promising me a future built on trust and honesty over the past few weeks. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
He moves closer, though I can see the effort it costs him. “Sabrina, please—”
I turn away from him because I can’t look at his face without feeling the urge to either scream or cry. “No. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” His voice trembles slightly.
I face him again, drawing strength from the anger burning in my chest. “I mean I can’t raise a child with a man who lies to me about the risks he’s taking and expects me to just accept it.”
“It was one mission,” he says with a hint of anger. “One final mission to eliminate the last threat to our family.”
I snort. “And the next time? When another enemy emerges or another crisis demands your attention? What happens then? Do you just disappear again and expect me to sit here without knowing what’s happening to you?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, which tells me everything I need to know.
“I want to go home.” The words come out steadier than I feel, but I mean them completely. I can’t stay here anymore, surrounded by reminders of promises that were apparently meaningless from the moment they were made.
He straightens despite the obvious pain. “This is your home.”
“No, it’s not. This is your fortress. My home is the apartment I share with Jessie, where no one lies to me about midnight raids or gets shot defending territory.”
His voice carries an edge of command that makes my spine stiffen with rebellion. “You can’t leave.”
I glare at him. “Watch me.” I move toward the staircase, intending to pack a bag and call Jessie to pick me up. He follows, clearly struggling with the injury but determined not to let me out of his sight.
“Sabrina, stop. You’re not thinking clearly.”
I whirl around at the top of the stairs. “I’m thinking more clearly than I have in weeks. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I fell for a man who says all the right things but can’t actually change who he is.”
He looks torn between anger and frustration, and it bleeds through his voice. “I am changing. I told you about the succession plans, about stepping away from the organization, and warned you I had to deal with Vadim.”
“You also told me you’d be honest about when that happened, but then you sneaked out at dawn to get into a gunfight. Do you see the contradiction there?”
He reaches for me, but I step back despite the many steps between us. The gesture feels too much like manipulation, like he’s trying to use our physical connection to distract me from the very real betrayal that brought us to this point. “Don’t touch me right now.”
He drops his hand. “Please just calm down and think about this rationally.”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady and suppress the creeping anger. “I am being rational. I’m protecting myself and our daughter from a man who apparently can’t keep his word about the most basic requirements for our relationship.”
He grimaces with pain, though I don’t know if it’s physical or emotional. “I kept my word about everything that matters.”
I snort softly. “Honesty matters. Trust matters. You just proved I can’t rely on you for either one.” I continue toward the bedroom, with him following slowly behind. Each step feels like progress toward reclaiming some control over my life and my future. I speak without turning around. “You can’t control me, and I won’t stay somewhere I don’t feel safe.”
“You’re safe here.”
I hesitate at the bedroom doorway, turning to face him. “I’m safe from outside threats, but I’m not safe from you making unilateral decisions about our lives and expecting me to just accept whatever consequences follow.”
I move deeper into the room as he lingers in the hallway to pull a suitcase from the closet and begin throwing clothes into it without much regard for organization. The physical activity helps channel some of the emotional energy burning through my system.
He leans against the doorframe, watching me pack with an expression I can’t quite read. “Where will you go?”
“Back to my apartment. Back to my life.” I toss in a handful of maternity underwear. “I’ll see if Jessie is ready to come home too.”
“What about the baby?” His voice breaks slightly.
The question stops me cold as I turn to face him with one hand instinctively moving to my belly. “What about her?”
“She’s my daughter too.”
I nod. “Of course, and you can see her per whatever schedule we work out, as long as you can guarantee her safety, but I won’t raise her in a world where violence is always lurking around the corner.”
“This was the last of it. With Vadim gone—”
“Vadim isn’t gone. You said it was a trap, and he wasn’t there. So now what? Another mission? Another secret operation you’ll lie to me about?”
He does not have an answer for that, which confirms my worst fears about what our future would actually look like. I zip the suitcase closed and set it on the floor. “I need you to arrange transportation back to my apartment.”
He studies my face for a long moment. “Sabrina—”
The word comes out softer than I intended, but I don’t have the energy for more fighting. “Please. I need some time to think, and I can’t do that here.”
I think I see something break behind his eyes. “If you leave now, I might lose you forever.”
I keep my expression as impassive as I can. “You lost me the moment you decided to lie to me about something this important.”
“I never meant to hurt you.” Hurt bleeds through every word.
It makes it hard to breathe as I share that pain with him for a moment, though for different reasons. “I believe you, but you did. The worst part is you chose to hurt me instead of trusting me with the truth.”
He nods slowly, and defeat settles over his features like a heavy blanket. “I’ll have Maksim drive you.”
“Thank you.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m seated in the back of an armored SUV with my suitcase beside me and two guards following in a separate vehicle. As we pull away from the estate, I refuse to look back even though I’m certain Nikandr is watching from one of the windows.
The image of him limping through the foyer keeps replaying in my mind. Pale, injured, and trying to minimize his pain while explaining why he had risked everything without bothering to include me in the decision. Each time I remember the blood on his shirt or the careful way he moved, my resolve wavers slightly.
Until I remind myself one day, he might not come home at all, and I refuse to raise our daughter in a world where that possibility hangs over us like a constant threat, especially when I can’t be sure he’ll tell me what he’s doing before it happens.
I press my hand to my belly and whisper, “It’s going to be okay, baby girl. Mommy’s going to figure this out.”
I call Jessie and ask her to meet me at the apartment before falling into silence. As the familiar streets of my old neighborhood come into view, I’m not sure I believe that promise any more than I believed his desperate attempts to placate me this afternoon.
