That was a threat. A clear, undeniable threat against that man’s family. This is how Ledger does business—through fear and intimidation and knowing exactly where people are vulnerable.
I sink into my chair and stare at my laptop screen without seeing it.
I knew he was dangerous. Knew he’d killed Viktor Kozlov and burned his body. Knew he ran operations that weren’t entirely legal. But hearing it firsthand, hearing him threaten someone’s children, makes it real in a way it wasn’t before.
This is who I married. This is the father of my baby. And I don’t know how to feel about it.
After another month, my routine has become comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe.
I wake up in Ledger’s arms. Work in my office while he handles business in his. Marie brings lunch. Sometimes Alexi stops by with Elena. In the evenings, we have dinner together and talk about our days like a normal couple.
Except we’re not a normal couple. And I’m starting to understand exactly how not-normal we are.
It starts with the flowers.
I’m on a call with Jenna, discussing the Q4 campaign rollout, when my phone pings with a text from Pedro:Someone sent flowers to the main office. Security intercepted them. They were addressed to you.
My stomach tightens.
Who sent them?
No name on the card. Just said “I’m sorry. Please talk to me.”
I know exactly who sent them. There’s only one person who would do that.
Mason.
Throw them away. Don’t tell Mr. Volkov.
But even as I send the text, I know Pedro will tell him anyway. He reports everything to Ledger.
Two days later, my work phone rings. It’s an unknown number. I let it go to voicemail.
It rings again an hour later. Same number. I ignore it.
By the end of the week, there have been six calls from unknown numbers. I block them all, but new numbers keep calling. Then I make the mistake of checking Instagram.
I barely use social media anymore. Haven’t posted since before the wedding. But when I open the app, I have dozens of notifications.
Mason has been commenting on my old photos. Pictures from a year ago, two years ago. Photos of me and my mom.
Remember when things were simple?
Your mom wouldn’t want you with him.
You’ve changed. This isn’t you.
I still love you. I always will.
I delete the comments and block him, but the damage is done. He’s found a way to reach me, even from Chicago. And he’s not going to stop.
Three days later, I’m in Ledger’s office using his laptop. Mine is updating, and I need to review a contract before a meeting. He said I could use his anytime, that we don’t have secrets.
Except we do. We both do.
I’m scrolling through my email when I accidentally click on his inbox instead of mine. The folders look similar, and I don’t realize my mistake until I see the subject lines.
RE: Shipment arrival - Containers 447-451
