Page 41 of Mile High Daddy

“Lila,” she says slowly, like she can’t believe she’s even saying the words, “what do you meanyour husband?”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I clutch the phone tighter, my body shaking. “Mom…I got married.”

The silence is deafening.

Then my mother’s voice drops, and I hear the raw edge of fury behind it.

“Tell me everything. Now.”

“Mom—” I start. I don’t want to cause unnecessary distress. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” she says. “You’re twenty-four. You werenotmarried two weeks ago. What the hell happened?”

I wipe at my face, trying to breathe, but my chest is tight. I knew she would react like this. I knew she would be angry, confused. I just don’t know how to explain something that doesn’t even make sense to me.

“I—I didn’t have a choice,” I say finally.

My mother inhales sharply, and I can almostfeelher fury through the phone.

“Yourfatherdid this, didn’t he?” she spits, her voice turning sharp. “I swear to God, if he?—”

“Mom, stop,” I plead, my fingers gripping the phone. “Please. It’s done.”

“Done?” she echoes, like I just told her I decided to jump off a cliff. “Lila, this isn’t done. You’re my daughter! If he forced you into this, I’ll?—”

“He didn’tforceme,” I lie, though my voice trembles too much to be convincing.

There’s a pause. “So youchosethis?”

I shut my eyes, my stomach twisting painfully.

I don’t answer.

“Lila,” my mother presses, her voice cracking. “Tell me the truth.”

I grip the sheets beneath me, trying to steady myself, but the words just won’t come. Because what truth am I supposed to tell her? That my father sold me like a bargaining chip? That I was tricked into thinking I was getting on a plane, only to wake up in this world where I no longer have control over my own life? That the man I married is both my captor and the only person who’s shown me any kindness in weeks?

That despite everything, I still feelsomethingevery time he touches me?

No. I can’t tell her any of that.

“Lila.” My mother’s voice wavers, but there’s a steel edge to it. “Tell me his name.”

I stare at the door, as if saying it out loud will make him appear. I swallow hard.

“Mikhail Ivanov.”

The line goes deathly quiet.

Then, in a voice so full of horror that it makes my blood run cold, she whispers, “No.”

A chill races down my spine. My fingers tighten around the phone. “Mom?”

“No, no, no,” she mutters, her voice breaking. “Nothim.Lila, listen to me. You need to get out of there. Do you hear me? Youneedto leave.”

Her panic is instant, visceral, like she’s just heard I married the devil himself.

My heart pounds against my ribs. “Mom, what?—”

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