But maybe Izzy’s right, too. Maybe the violence isn’t the problem—it’s the target. Point me at someone threatening my daughter or my wife, and I’m a weapon. Point me at a wall, and I’m just broken.
Izzy returns, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Thursday morning, Judge Galeotti will be presiding over your emergency hearing instead of Judge Leroy.”
“I don’t know a Judge Galeotti.”
“Exactly.” She settles beside me, her thigh pressing against mine. “Leroy is Elena’s tennis partner. Galeotti is Tallulah’s goddaughter and owes her approximately a million favors. She’s also fair, which is all we need.”
I stare at her. “You just rigged my custody hearing.”
“I didn’t rig anything. I simply ensured you’d get an impartial judge, instead of one in your ex-wife’s pocket. Elena’s been gaming the system for months. I’m leveling the playing field.”
“By using your connections.”
“By using everything I have.” She takes my bandaged hand, threading her fingers through mine carefully. “We married each other for protection, remember? This is what that looks like in my world. No guns, no interrogations. Just phone calls and favors and making sure the right people are in the right rooms.”
My cock twitches in my pants. She’s in my shirt, hair messy from sleep, no makeup, and she’s never looked more deadly. This is the woman who helped me hide a body without flinching. Who watched her uncle try to kill her and didn’t break. Who’s sitting here strategizing my custody battle like she’s planning a weekly menu.
“You’re terrifying,” I tell her.
“Good.” She leans closer. “So are you. We match.”
I laugh despite everything, despite the destroyed wall in my office and the custody hearing looming Thursday. She makes me laugh when nothing’s funny, makes me feel human when The Wolf’s too close to the surface.
“Come on.” She tugs on my hand. “Let’s order takeaway and plot Elena’s downfall. I’m thinking Thai food and character assassination.”
“Sounds perfect.”
She leads me to the couch, and we curl up together. My phone buzzes—probably Elena’s lawyer with more threats—but I ignore it
Thursday will come. The judge will decide. But now, I’m taking a moment to be present.
To just be.
16
Izzy
"Back the fuck off."
Elena's perfectly manicured hand tightens on the doorframe. She's dressed like she's about to have brunch at The Plaza, instead of facing off with her ex-husband's wife at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday. Cashmere that screams "I have a personal shopper"; pearls that scream "I have family money"; and an expression that screams "I will destroy you and enjoy it."
Her face does this interesting thing, where surprise tries to register but can't quite make it past the Botox. Settles on hostile instead. "Excuse me?"
"The custody battle. The emergency hearing." My heart's doing its best impression of a jackhammer, but I keep my voice level, because showing weakness to women like Elena is like showing your throat to a predator. "Drop it."
"You came all the way to my house—uninvited—to tell me how to parent my daughter?" Her laugh could cut glass. "That's bold. Stupid, but bold."
"I came because Sergei's a good father, and you weaponizing Mila makes you a shit mother."
The Botox cracks. Actual emotion flickers across her face—fury mixed with something that might be guilt, if she were capable of it. "How dare you?—"
"How dare I tell the truth?" I step closer into her personal space because I've learned that sometimes you have to crowd a predator to make them blink. "This custody grab isn't about safety. It's about punishing Sergei for moving on. For being happy. For finding someone who doesn't treat him like a trained dog."
"You've known my daughter for two weeks." Each word is a small explosion. "You know nothing about her needs, her fears, what's actually best for?—"
"I know she wakes up from nightmares about you taking her away from her dad." The lie comes out smooth because I'm betting it's true. "I know she pretends to be asleep when you call, so Sergei will say she can't come to the phone. I know she asked me if there's a way to stay with Papa forever."
Elena's face goes sheet-white beneath the foundation. "That's—she wouldn't?—"
