“Tell me what happened,” Dimitri said at last. “Quickly. And don’t lie.”
I told him everything. The frozen account. The ransom clock. Dominic’s cruelty. The words spilled out messy and desperate, each detail laid bare like an offering.
The silence afterward stretched so long my throat ached from holding my breath.
“And you expect me,” Dimitri finally said, “to cross oceans because your husband is a monster and your past decisions have come collecting their debt? Why should I save a child you trapped in a gilded cage?”
I closed my eyes and saw him the way he once was—standing on a pier, city lights behind him, his hands firm on my face like the world could still be shaped.
“Because I’m asking,” I whispered. “That has to mean something.”
“It doesn’t,” he replied evenly. “You shattered me. You chose safety and left me bleeding in the street. If I save him, what do I receive in return? How will you pay?”
Fear crawled into my mouth and dried it shut.
Dimitri Ambramov wasn’t just powerful—he was feared. Men changed loyalties when his name surfaced. Borders bent for him. Laws softened. He didn’t destroy recklessly; he claimed what he wanted and kept it.