“I could have helped you find a way,” I insist. “You didn’t even give me the chance.”
Her shoulders rise and fall once. Her voice breaks, and she clamps down on it like she’s angry at herself for letting it happen.
“My mother is gone,” she whispers. “My father is gone. It’s just him. You know that.”
The sentence holds everything she isn’t saying. The fear. The loneliness. And the obligation that isn’t fair.
I sit back slightly, the chair creaking under me.
“When did Ivan come into it?” I prompt.
Lila’s fingers twist together in front of her chest. “He found me.”
“Found you how?”
“I don’t know,” she admits, and a shadow of humiliation darkens her eyes. “He just showed up. He knew my name. He knew mymother’s name. He knew things I hadn’t spoken out loud since I was a kid.”
My pulse kicks again.
“He told you he was your half-brother,” I mutter.
She nods, eyes fixed on my face like she’s searching for understanding.
“I didn’t believe him at first,” she continues quickly. “I thought it was a scam. I thought he was trying to get close to me for some other reason.” She drags in a breath. “He told me we had the same father.”
The distinction rearranges what I thought I understood.
“I grew up believing the man who raised us was my father, too,” she adds. “That he was both of ours. Ivan told me that wasn’t true. He had documents. Old photos. Dates that lined up with things my mom used to say when she thought I wasn’t listening.” Her eyes hold mine. “And I ran the tests myself.”
My stomach dips with that detail. Of course she did. Lila wouldn’t accept a claim like that on instinct. She would need proof she could hold in her hands, numbers she could verify, something clinical and indisputable.
“You ran a DNA test.”
She nods. “Twice.”
I press my lips together. The betrayal is still there, deep and raw, but now it has context wrapped around it like barbed wire.
“He’s your half-brother,” I repeat, because my brain keeps trying to reject it.
“Yes.” She releases a slow breath. “And he offered me a way out.”
“A way out,” I echo, and my voice goes quiet.
Lila’s shoulders hunch like she’s bracing for impact.
“He told me he needed help,” she continues. “He told me he needed information from you for a business deal. Nothing physical. Nothing violent. He acted like it was…” She shakes her head hard, angry now. “Like it was a business favor.”
My eyes narrow. “And the trade?”
Her voice turns hoarse. “He told me if he secured the deal, he’d give me the money to pay off Jonathan’s debt. Enough that the loan sharks would go away for good.”
Bile rises in my throat. “He tied your brother’s life to your cooperation?”
Her eyes snap up, fierce. “Yes. And I didn’t have another option.”
“You did,” I counter. “You always have options.”
Her laugh comes out ugly. “Not when the option is watching your brother get killed.”
