There it is. The real issue.
“That was business,” I say.
“That was murder.”
“That was eliminating a threat to my operations. Mikhailov tried to renegotiate terms and then threatened me. I responded appropriately.”
“You shot him in the head!”
“Yes. And I’d do it again if someone else tries the same thing. That’s the world I operate in. That’s the world you married into. You don’t get to act shocked now.”
She’s shaking. Anger or fear, I can’t tell which. “I don’t want my children anywhere near that world.”
“They’re already in it. They live in my house. They eat my food. They’re protected by my security. They’re part of this whether you accept it or not.”
“They don’t need to know you. They don’t need your gifts or your attention or anything from you except a roof over their heads.”
“That’s not how families work.”
“We’re not a family. This is a transaction. You said so yourself.”
“I said the marriage was a transaction. The children are different.”
“No, they’re not. They’re part of the package you acquired. That’s all.”
I take a step closer. She holds her ground. “You think I can’t see what you’re doing? You’re keeping them away from me because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been terrified since the warehouse. You jump every time I walk into a room. You watch me like you think I’m going to snap and hurt you.”
“Can you blame me? I watched you execute someone!”
“For trying to cheat me. For threatening me in my own warehouse. Not for existing. Not for crossing some arbitrary line you invented in your head.”
“There’s nothing arbitrary about not wanting a killer around my children!”
“I’m not around your children! You make sure of that every single day!” My voice is getting louder. I don’t care. “I live in the same house as two four-year-olds I’ve barely spoken to because their mother treats me like I’m going to hurt them. Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”
“I don’t care if it’s insulting. I care about keeping them safe.”
“Safe from what? From having a stable home? From having resources and security? From having someone who actually gives a damn about their well-being?”
“You don’t give a damn about them. You give a damn about control.”
“If I only cared about control, I wouldn’t waste money on custom toys. I’d ignore them completely. But I don’t. I pay attention. I notice what they like. I try to give them things that make them happy. And you throw it all away because you’re so busy hating me that you can’t see I’m actually trying.”
“Trying to do what? Be their father?”
The words hang in the air between us.
“I’m trying not to be a stranger in my own house,” I say. “That’s all.”
“Well, you are a stranger. You’ll always be a stranger. Because I’m never letting you near them.”
“You don’t have that power.”
“Watch me.”
