But something in her face makes me pause. The fear there isn’t imaginary. Whatever happened that night, I can tell it was bad, and that she believes it.
I’ve been dismissive of Sima before, and it almost cost me everything.
I’m not going to make the same mistake again.
“I’ll have the place swept again,” I say. “Every room, every camera. I’ll triple the guards if I have to. No one will come near you or the baby. Not ever again.”
She nods, but her expression doesn’t ease. “I just… I don’t want to feel trapped again.”
Guilt stabs at me. I was the one who made her feel trapped. If she really did imagine what happened that night, it was because of all the stress I put on her.
“You won’t.” I meet her gaze. “Not this time.”
She studies me for a long moment, then looks down at Lilia again. “Okay,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you say so.”
As we get ready to leave her hospital room, slow fury builds in me.
Pushed.Sima said she was pushed. If that’s true, then someone tried to kill her under my own fucking roof.
I can’t imagine anyone in that house being that stupid. Every man on my payroll knows what happens when someone crosses me.
Still, the thought is persistent. Someone put their hands on her, on my wife, in my house… The idea alone is enough to make my hands curl into fists.
“Could you have dreamed it?” I wonder. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. Maybe you walked in your sleep.”
She shakes her head, firm. “No. I was awake. I hadn’t even gone to sleep yet.” She looks at me with fear in her eyes. “It was real, Petyr. I know it was.”
I study her face, searching for any sign of doubt.
There isn’t any.
My jaw tightens until it hurts. I run through every possibility in my head: guards, staff, anyone who’s ever set foot in that house. None of them fit. They’d never fucking dare.
But if she’s right, then someone slipped past all of us. Someone on the inside.
My stomach turns cold.
The image of her falling belly-first down the stairs flashes behind my eyes. The slow burn of anger turns into something heavier, darker. A pulse of rage that feels almost physical.
I pace once across the room, then stop. “I’ll find out who did it.”
“Petyr—”
“They tried to hurt you,” I cut in. “They tried to hurt our child. I don’t care who it was or why. They won’t walk away from it.”
I force myself to take a breath, to stay in control. For both their sakes.
But inside, I’m already seeing red.
The moment Sima steps out to check in with her pediatrician, I call Luka into the room. He’s been waiting in the hallway, leaned against the wall like he’s trying not to hover. I must have marked my territory well enough that day in the delivery room. He’s barely come anywhere near Sima since.
But the second he steps in, I see the question in his face.
“You heard what she said,” I tell him.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Did you see anything that night?”
