Page 87 of Ruthless Serenade

"And ten million buys your peace?" I spit.

"Careful with that tone." Ice crystallizes in her words. "One wrong move and your little girl vanishes. The clock’s ticking – you have forty-eight hours to make the right choice." She pauses. "And remember, Mr. Korolev, I died with Eva. I’ve got nothing left to lose."

The line goes dead, leaving me alone with my rage and one crystal-clear thought:

Rachel Anderson just signed her own death warrant.

Chapter Forty

Mindy

"...And we wish you the best in your future endeavors."

The words blur on my laptop screen as reality sinks in. Fired. Sure, I’d been bracing for this email since my nude-fiasco in the boardroom, but I hadn’t expected the Solomons to find my replacement this quickly. The truth stares back at me, cold and final, while my job search folder sits pathetically empty. I only have two interviews lined up for next week.

Panic surges in me. The numbers dance mockingly in my head – rent, groceries, Sharon’s needs. My daughter’s sweet face flashes in my mind, and my heart clenches. If I skip meals and direct every resource to keeping her fed, we might stretch it to six weeks. Then what?

And then, what about my career in accountancy? I doubt Christine is going to give me a glowing reference after my performance at the board meeting. Who would want to hire an accountant who flashes her vajayjay instead of the annual growth reports? How am I supposed to find a job with a stain on my career like this?

A laugh bubbles up from my throat, teetering on the edge of hysteria as I collapse onto the couch. I stretch my legs and stare at the ceiling, ticking off the cosmic joke my life has become.

Running into Maron after seven years, only to watch him toss me aside like yesterday’s trash? Check.

Accidentally projecting my nudes onto the boardroom screen at work. Check.

Albert Solomon’s creepy advances towards me. Check.

That terrifying night watching Sharon battle illness at the hospital? Check.

And Tania, the only constant and reliable person in our lives, moving away when I need her most? Check and mate.

I’m so lost in my spiral of self-pity that the doorbell’s ring barely registers. It takes a moment for the sound to pull me back to the present moment.

I get up and open the door. Alexis stands in the doorway with a suitcase lining the wall behind her.

"I’m so sorry I didn’t call, Mindy." She gives me an apologetic look. "I had to leave rehab early and... I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Could I crash here for a few nights while I sort out my living situation?"

Another plot twist in the saga of my life, but for once, it’s one I welcome. Despite everything that’s going on, I’m happy to see my sister.

"Come on in, Lex," I say, mustering a smile as she wheels her battered suitcase across the threshold. The healthy glow in her cheeks and clear eyes startle me – I haven’t seen her look this good in years.

"Thanks, sis," she says with a sheepish smile. "Sorry to be such a pest."

"Don’t even start, Lex." I wave off her apology.

We settle in the living room, and I busy myself with making coffee, grateful for the mundane task. The familiar routine of measuring grounds and watching steam rise helps quiet the storm of uncertainty still churning in my gut. When I return and sink into the couch beside Alexis, I really look at my sister for the first time. She looks fantastic.

"How are you getting on?" I ask softly.

A glimmer of pride crosses Alexis’s face. "Still in therapy," she says, her voice steady and sure. "This psychiatrist... Dr. Rachel Anderson. She’s incredible, Mindy. She’s helping me more than I ever thought possible."

I lean forward, a strange combination of curiosity and unease stirring in my gut. Something about that name tugs at my memory but I can’t place it. "What happens in these sessions?" I ask.

"Well," Alexis’s gaze drifts, as if seeing beyond the walls, "the most crucial thing is honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. Dr. Anderson always says that healing and honesty go hand in hand."

"And are you?" I study her face carefully. "Honest, I mean."

Her expression hardens. "I am now. God, it was excruciating at first. Facing yourself, your worst mistakes, your darkest thoughts..." She shudders. "It’s not for the faint-hearted." Her eyes lock onto mine, unflinching. "But it’s necessary. I’ve done a lot of shit, Mindy. As you well know."

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