It was from my contact in New York—Kirill had raised the bounty to five million dollars and was personally searching for Harper across the country.
Five million dollars.
Looked like that Russian bastard had really lost it.
I laughed coldly and put the phone away.
Come on, Kirill Orlov.
Let's see if you can take her from me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kirill
"Found her."
Boris's voice carried a careful edge when he placed the file in front of me. Seven months of watching me waste away, watching me unravel—he'd learned to tread lightly.
"What did you say?" My voice came out raw, like someone had their hands around my throat.
"Harper. Goes by Luna now." He crossed to my desk and set down a manila envelope. "She's working as a caregiver in San Francisco."
I tore the envelope open. Documents and photos spilled out. When I saw the top photo, my heart damn near stopped.
Her.
My Harper.
The woman in the photo stood outside a care facility, California sun pouring down on her like liquid gold, bathing her in warmth. She was turned toward something outside the frame, smiling—a smile so bright it hurt to look at, an expression I'd never seen on her face.
Harper had her hair up, the ends curling playfully. She wore makeup. Her lips were painted a soft rose.
She had on a pale blue dress that hugged her waist just right,showing off curves I'd forgotten she had. She used to hide in oversized hand-me-downs, making herself invisible.
And now... she was breathtaking. So beautiful it made my chest ache.
Did that mean she was better off without me?
"The address?"
"All in there." Boris paused, choosing his words. "She's... there's a man."
"What?"
"According to our source, Mrs. Orlov is currently living with a man." Boris looked down, wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Who is he?" My voice came out too calm. Dangerously calm.
"Still digging. We don't have much—just that he's blonde."
I said nothing.
The office fell silent as a tomb.
I stared at the photo in my hands, at Harper's radiant smile.
Who was she smiling at?
