“Lies.” My hands clench.
Jordan Smith shakes her head. “His words, not ours. Not mine. You wanted the reason, and this is it. Your grandfather said because of your mother’s shame, she was cut off, and when that all ended in tragedy, as he says he knew it would, he lost touch. But since he discovered you again in his later years, he stayed away but was determined that upon his passing, you would restore the family name, and he’d ensure you wouldn’t follow in her doomed footsteps.”
Shock and rage rock me, searing through my veins.
The lawyer keeps talking.
I nod. Make the appropriate responses.
When she’s done and I’ve signed what I need to, I leave with a bunch of papers.
Fuck.
I sit in my car. Hands on the wheel, not leaving the lot.
I could walk away.
I should.
My mother did.
And that was brave.
But maybe I can cheat the system somehow. I don’t know.
I call Isaak, but I remember he’s in meetings all day, so I hang up.
Then I start to call Demyan.
But I hang up there, too. I’m not ruining or interrupting his time with his family in Russia. He can’t do anything from there.
Who else is there? I scroll through my phone. I don’t get far because Alina’s name leaps out.
Do I burden her with this? Or would it be a distraction for her to hear about this weird-ass deal?
I press call, and Alina picks up almost immediately.
“Are you running late?” she says, a real smile in her voice that warms me from the inside out.
“Something like that.”
“Well, I was just about to call you.”
“Great minds,” I mutter. “You wanna get out of the house, meet me for coffee?”
“Sounds great,” Alina says. “Meet me at The Roast in ten.”
“It’s a date.” I hang up and my mood swoops up for the first time since I got that call from Jordan Smith.
Alina’s going to get a real kick out of this.
And that’s the only reason I whistle as I drive to The Roast.
The only reason at all.
Chapter Three
ALINA