His grip loosened, and Marco hit the floor in a heap, gasping for air like a busted bellows.
"My daughter?" Igor's voice cracked. "Stella's our daughter?"
"Yeah." I nodded, saying it again to make it real.
His face went through this whirlwind—shock, confusion, disbelief, and then pure, wild joy.
"These five years, Marco's been helping me take care of Stella. As her dad, you owe him his life for that. It's the least you can do." I turned to Marco. "I've always been grateful to you, Marco. But that doesn't give you the right to pull this shit on me like it's owed."
I stepped closer, looking down at this guy who'd once been the gentle doctor I knew, now a total stranger.
"Don't think I'm your property. All these years, while your grandma was sick and in the hospital, that was me taking care of her. I treated her like my own grandma—cooking for her, chatting with her, getting up in the middle of the night to give her meds. After that firstyear, I never took another dime from you. I carried your load, just like you helped with Stella. We're square, Marco. I don't owe you jack."
Marco lay there on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth, his eyes empty.
Igor pulled out his phone and dialed. "Artyom, bring two guys over. Got some trash that needs handling."
Ten minutes later, Artyom showed up with his crew.
"Get him to the hospital," Igor said, cold as ice. "Make sure he lives."
He walked over to Marco, who was barely hanging on, and crouched down. I saw fresh fear flood Marco's eyes.
"Remember this. If you ever show your face near Elena again, if you so much as breathe near my daughter, next time you won't walk out alive."
Once they hauled Marco off, it was just me and Igor in the apartment. He turned to me, his eyes a mess of emotions—excitement, guilt, heartache. Then he strode over like he wanted to pull me into another hug. I stepped back on instinct.
He stopped short, hurt flashing in his eyes.
"You said everything about me belongs to you. But that's not right, Igor. I'm not your property." I said it calmly, even if my heart was pounding.
"You're right. I'm sorry, Elena. I fell back into old habits." His voice had this raw pain in it. "They drilled it into me growing up—the boss owns everything, controls everything. But you're your own person, with your own thoughts, your own choices. I've got no right to say you belong to me. But I'll change, Elena. I swear it."
I looked at him—this big, powerful mafia don, fumbling through an apology, begging like he was on his knees.
"Give me time." He pleaded. "Give me a shot to prove I can be better. Let me make it up to you, let me court you all over again. Please?"
"I'm wiped out. I just wanna go home and crash." I finally said, bone-tired.
He nodded, disappointment in his eyes, but understanding too. "Of course. I'll drive you."
In the car, we didn't say a word. I stared out at the blurring city lights, my head a total mess. Marco's betrayal and that crazy side of him—it shocked me, gutted me. And Igor's promises? They stirred something up, made my heart race, but left me spinning too.
When the car pulled up to my building, he grabbed my hand.
"Elena. Thank you for telling me about Stella." He said softly. "Now I wanna see her—as her dad. But I know I don't deserve it. I missed so much. And hell, I shouldn't have bulldozed my way into your apartment before—"
"Tomorrow." I cut him off. "Come over tomorrow night. You said last time you'd learn to cook, right? You can take care of her."
His eyes lit up like he'd won the lottery. "For real?"
"Yeah," I said. "But Igor, if you wanna be part of her life, you gotta respect her too. Spend real time with her, not just show up."
"I will. I swear, Elena." He rushed out the words. "I'll be a good dad. I'll learn, I'll change, I'll be the father she can brag about."
I looked into his eyes, and I saw the honesty there, the fire. It warmed me up, just a little.
"See you tomorrow." I popped the door and stepped out.
