“Or killed him.”
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Final.
I should be crying. Should be screaming. Should be falling apart.
Instead, I’m just… numb.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“We wait,” Lev says. “Boris is working every angle. If Anton’s alive and can make contact, he will.”
“And if he can’t?”
Silence.
“If he can’t,” Dima says slowly, “then he’s either captured or dead. Either way, Boris will find out. Eventually.”
“How long do we wait?”
“As long as it takes.”
I stand. Start pacing. Hand on my stomach. Thinking. Processing.
Anton’s in Moscow. Possibly captured. Possibly dead. Possibly fighting for his life right now while I’m standing here in his penthouse doing absolutely nothing.
“There has to be something we can do,” I say.
“There isn’t,” Dima says. “This is Boris’s job. He’s the best we have. If anyone can find him, it’s Boris.”
“And if Boris can’t?”
Dima’s quiet for a beat. Then: “Then we proceed with contingencies.”
“Contingencies?”
“Plans Anton made. In case something happened to him.”
My blood runs cold. “What kind of plans?”
Dima and Lev exchange a look.
“Tell me,” I demand.
Dima sits. Finally. Across from me. Hands clasped. Voice steady.
“When he knew he was going to Moscow, when he realized he was going to be a father, Anton updated everything. His will. His accounts. His entire estate.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
“Because he’s not stupid. He knows what he does. He knows the risks.” Dima leans forward. “And he wanted to make sure you and the baby were protected. No matter what.”
“Protected how?”
“Financially, you’re set for life. Multiple accounts. Offshore. Untraceable. Enough money that you’d never have to work. Never have to worry.”
My throat closes.
“The penthouse is yours,” Dima continues. “Free and clear. Along with the properties in New York, Miami, and London. All transferred to a trust with you as the sole beneficiary.”
