Page 110 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

I step fully into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me. “I’m right here, Agents. No need to harass the staff.”

Both men turn toward me. Miller’s expression hardens, while Torres offers what I suppose is meant to be a reassuring smile.

“Mrs. Antonova,” says Torres, extending his hand. “We’d like to speak with your husband.”

I don’t take his hand. “My husband is recovering from a serious stab wound and surgery. He’s not receiving visitors.”

“This isn’t a social call,” snaps Miller. “We have questions regarding the incident at Nikolai Sokolov’s property.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “My husband nearly died. He’s under doctor’s orders to rest and avoid stress. Whatever questions you have can wait until he’s recovered.”

Miller steps closer, invading my personal space. “Eight men are dead, including your ex and Sokolov. Your husband was there. We need his statement now, not when it’s convenient.”

“You need a warrant,” I counter, not backing down. “And even with one, his doctor would advise against any interrogation in his current condition.”

Over Miller’s shoulder, I spot Anton at the nurses’ station, phone pressed to his ear. Our gazes meet briefly before he turns away, speaking rapidly into the receiver.

“Mrs. Antonova,” says Torres, his voice softening, “We understand this is a difficult time, but surely you want to help usget to the truth. If your husband is innocent, his statement will only help clear things up.”

I almost laugh at the transparent good cop/bad cop routine. “Agent Torres, I’m a medical professional. My priority is my husband’s health. He was attacked and nearly killed. He’s the victim here.”

“That’s one version of events,” Miller cuts in. “We have reason to believe?—”

“I don’t care what you believe,” I interrupt. “This is a hospital. My husband is recovering from a life-threatening injury. You’re not speaking to him today.”

Miller’s face reddens. “We can make this official. Get a warrant, bring in hospital administration?—”

“Go ahead,” I challenge. “In the meantime, I’m asking you both to leave. You’re disturbing patients and interfering with medical care.”

Torres places a restraining hand on Miller’s arm. “Perhaps we should speak with Mrs. Antonova instead since she was present at the scene.”

They turn their attention fully to me now, and I realize they’ve pivoted to their backup plan.

“You were there when Sokolov was killed,” says Miller like he already knows that somehow. “You witnessed everything.”

“I was trying to escape after being kidnapped,” I correct him. “I was barely conscious when the shooting started.”

“Yet you managed to perform emergency medical care on your husband,” Torres notes. “That suggests you were quite aware of your surroundings.”

I narrow my eyes. “Medical training kicks in during emergencies. That doesn’t mean I saw who shot whom.”

“We’d like you to come down to the local field office,” says Miller. “Just to clarify a few details.”

“No,” I say firmly. “I’ve already given my statement to the officers who responded to the scene. I have nothing to add right now.”

Miller steps closer. “Mrs. Antonova, obstruction of justice is a serious offense.”

“So is harassment,” interjects a new voice .

We all turn to see a familiar man. “I’m sure you remember me, Agents,” he says with a civil nod. “Mikhail Seaver.” He extends a business card to each agent. “I represent the Antonov family. Any questions you have for my clients should be directed through me.”

Miller glances at the card, his expression souring. “The lawyer again. How convenient.”

“It’s not convenience, Agent Miller. It’s prudence.” Mikhail’s voice is smooth. “Now, I understand you’re attempting to question Mr. Antonov, who is currently under medical care for life-threatening injuries?”

“We need his statement regarding the deaths at Sokolov’s property,” says Torres, his tone more respectful than it had been with me.

“And you’ll have it, once my client is medically cleared to provide it.” Mikhail glances at me. “Mrs. Antonova, I apologize for the delay in arriving.”

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