The correction warms me from the inside. Just saying it—claiming it—brings Aleksander back to me for a split second.
“Right,” Dahlia says, recovering. “My apologies, Lily. This is a police investigation, and I’d like your perspective on a rather important matter.”
I lean back in my chair, hands folded neatly in my lap. “Detective Toscani said something about being a suspect in a murder,” I say, widening my eyes just enough to look naive. “But, honestly? I have no idea why I’m here. I count my lucky stars that I’ve never been anywhere near something like that in my life.”
Her smile turns thin. “Interesting, seeing that you said you were bringing Chinese food for a non-existent group of lawyers .”
The word hits me like a knife, but I don’t even blink. “A partial truth,” I say, clear and unwavering. “I was bringing Chinese for my husband and his colleagues."
She chuckles lightly. “Is that what the Bratva call themselves and the Polish and Italian mafias? Colleagues?”
“Those are a lot of names and subliminal accusations you’re spewing, as a woman of the law,” I shake my head as if I am disappointed. “With no evidence? Absolutely crazy.”
“No evidence? Lily,” she leans forward, voice hardening, “do you know what he…what all of them do for a living?”
“Yes,” I say, innocent as a lamb. “Aleksandr runs numbers for Petrov Industries, CFO. Nadia is CEO, and Nik is COO.”
I rattle the titles off like they’re all true but in all reality I am pulling these titles out of my butt, but isn’t that how companies go? CEO, CFO, Chief of something?
Her laugh is cold. “Okay, so let's play the game that all those titles and you being in the dark about it is all true. Do you know about the ties between Petrov Industries and the Bratva?”
I twist my lip to the side, and smile. “They are both Russian.”
“You have a thick layer of wit, don’t you?” she comments, leaning forward on the tables. “Just like a lawyer.”
“Lawyer, right, how could I forget,” I interrupt again, smiling so sweetly it could rot teeth. “I’m such a silly goose. Speaking of which, I need my lawyer. You know, rich people problems.”
Dahlia’s eyes narrow. “Lily, I just want to ask you a few questions. Then you’ll be free to go. A lawyer will only elongate this process and?—”
“That’s okay,” I say, still smiling. “I just got back from my honeymoon. I have time to spare. Can I have my phone call, please?”
The sigh that comes out of her is heavy, frustrated. And for the first time since this all began, I feel like I’ve taken a piece off her side of the board.
Good.
If I can keep this up, they’ll get nothing. Alek will be safe, and I will be safe.
I just need to hold on long enough for Gwen to walk through that door.
The officers exchange a glance, silently weighing whether I’m bluffing. Dahlia lets out a low exhale and drags her hand down her face, smearing her frustration into her palm. “We have to give her the phone call,” she mutters, half to Toscani, half to herself.
Reluctantly, she jerks her head toward the hallway. “Come on.”
My legs feel like stone as I stand, the weight of the cuffs making every step feel slower than it is. Dahlia keeps close to me, her presence like a shadow breathing down my neck.
We stop in front of an old rotary phone mounted to the wall. She taps the wall twice, making me flinch. “Three minutes,” she says flatly. “Make it count.”
The dime wobbles in my fingers as I slide it into the slot. There’s only one number I know by heart—only one line that matters. The Petrov Industries landline.
I lift the receiver and dial. Each turn of the dial feels endless, like the world is slowing to match my panic.
The ringback tone buzzes three times. On the fourth, a familiar voice cuts through.
“Hello, Petrov Industries,” Nadia says, brisk and professional.
My throat closes up. For a second, no sound comes out. Then it bursts, cracked and uneven. “Nadi?”
There’s a beat of silence, then the sharp clatter of a chair, and Nadia’s voice shifts, loud and unrestrained. “It’s Lily!”
