Silence, then heavy breathing that makes my skin crawl. I hang up immediately, but the damage is done. Alex knows this number, knows I’m here, and knows exactly how to make me feel hunted.
Nina moves closer, her voice soft but insistent. “We should call Yarik.”
I shake my head violently, backing away from her suggestion. “No. I can’t go running back to him every time I get scared. That’s not fair to me or the babies. I have to consider him a closed option. He’s marrying someone else, and I’m not okay with that.”
She spreads her hands in frustration, her voice rising slightly. “So, what’s the plan? Hide in this apartment until Alex gets bored and finds someone else to terrorize?”
The question stings since it’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Hiding, hoping, and pretending that ignoring the problem will make it disappear. Alex doesn’t give up easily, and the text messages prove he’s not going anywhere.
I think about the ultrasound images tucked away in my purse showing three little ones depending on the choices I make. They deserve a mother who fights for their future, not one who runs at the first sign of trouble. I reach for my jacket, suddenly needing space to think clearly. “I need some air. Maybe a drive will help me think.”
She stands immediately, already reaching for her own coat. “I’ll come with you.”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “No, stay here. I need to be alone for a while.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but something in my expression stops her protest. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise.”
I drive aimlessly through Greenwich, trying to sort through the mess of emotions and fears that have consumed me since I walked away from Yarik. The town looks different now, being less like a refuge and more like a stage where my life has been playing out in acts I don’t control.
When I finally return to the apartment two hours later, Nina is cooking dinner and humming under her breath. The normality of it makes my chest squeeze with longing for a life where my biggest worry is what to make for dinner.
She glances over her shoulder as I hang up my jacket. “Feel better?”
I settle at our small table, watching her move around the kitchen. “A little. Nina?”
She continues stirring the pasta sauce, her voice casual. “Yeah?”
“Take the promotion.”
She turns to face me, wooden spoon still in hand, her expression guarded. “What?”
I meet her gaze directly, wanting her to understand how serious I am. “Take the promotion and build the career you’ve always wanted. Stop putting your life on hold because mine is complicated.”
She sets down the spoon and turns fully toward me, her voice careful. “Sarah?—”
“I mean it. Whatever I decide to do about Alex, Yarik, and everything, I want to know you’re building something good for yourself.”
She studies my face for a long moment, then nods slowly with growing acceptance. “Okay. That doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you.”
“I know.”
We eat dinner in comfortable silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I’m picking at my pasta when my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. My stomach clenches, expecting another threatening message from Alex.
Instead, I find a message that makes me freeze:You left behind an important folder in Mr. Barinov’s office. I have them in my car and can meet you this evening to return them. Warehouse 17 on Industrial Drive. I’m in the area handling some business.— Valentin
The words sink in, and I start to tremble. That must mean he found the ultrasound folder, but how? Did I drop it when I stormed out of Yarik’s office? I leave the table to frantically check my purse, realizing I haven’t opened my work bag since coming home five days ago. The folder isn’t there.
Nina looks up from her plate, noting my suddenly frantic movements. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I left the ultrasound results at Yarik’s office. Valentin has them.”
Her fork clatters against her plate. “Valentin knows?”
I read the message again, looking for any sign that Valentin understands what he’s found. The text is neutral and professional, which suggests he either doesn’t know what’s in the folder, or he’s being discreet.
I stand and pace to the window, trying to consider the consequences. “The message doesn’t say, but if he looked at them...”