"You hustled me into this."
"I did."
"And you think I'm just going to go along with it? I could go to jail for lying to immigration."
Luka's quiet for a moment. Then he says, "I know, but immigration is a last resort. You told me once that your family means everything to you. That you'd do anything for them."
"Yeah, but—"
"Katerina's my family. And I'm asking you to help her." He pauses. "You don't have to stay married. Just long enough for her to get her visa renewed with the ballet company or go through immigration. A year, maybe two. Then you can annul it quietly, and everyone moves on."
"A year?"
"Or two."
“Jesus…” I say, running my hands through my hair.
"I know it's a lot. But I wouldn't ask if I had another option."
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to think.
This is crazy. This is absolutely, certifiably insane.
But Luka's my teammate. My friend. And the look on his face right now—the desperation he's trying so hard to hide—tells me this isn't a joke.
I’ve never seen him like this.
This is real.
"I mean it, East. You help her, and I've got your back. No matter what happens with my sister down the road, I’m yourbrother… always. I’ll owe you my life for this. And you know I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option."
I stare out the window at the airfield, my mind racing.
This is a bad idea.
This is a terrible idea.
But when I think about my own family—about my dad in that wheelchair, about my mom's endless worry, about the way I'd do anything to protect them—I understand why Luka's asking.
And I know I'm going to say yes.
"Fine," I mutter. "But you owe me. Big time."
Luka exhales, and I swear I see relief flicker across his face. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. I haven't met her."
"You're about to.”
He nods toward the runway, and I follow his gaze.
A sleek private jet is descending, its landing gear already down.
My heart starts pounding.
"That's her?" I ask.
"That's her."
