chapter 8

She pauses. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice tight. “He wasn’t answering, and now I can’t even dial his number. Could you call him? Don’t tell him I asked you to.”

“Of course. I’ll do it right now.”

I hang up, and the wait feels like an eternity. Seconds turn into minutes, and I catch myself biting my cuticles—an old habit I’d kicked, which seems to resurface whenever Dmitri’s involved.

My phone rings. The moment I hear it, I snatch it up, pressing it to my ear. “Yes?”

“You were right, his phone’s still off,” Daria says, her voice careful. “But I called his second line, and he picked up. He told me to tell you he’s fine.”

I freeze, processing her words. Hissecond line? I didn’t even know he had another phone.

“Did he say anything else?” I ask, the knot in my stomach tightening.

“No, Ana. Just that he’s fine.”

My forehead wrinkles in confusion, and anger begins to simmer under my skin. “He didn’t say he’d call me back?”

She hesitates. “No.”

I’m about to say something, but I stop myself. I’m frustrated, but it’s not her fault. “Thank you, Daria,” I say softly. “I appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome. And Ana, congratulations on your wedding. I couldn’t attend, but I heard all about it.”

A bitter laugh bubbles up in my throat. Who did she hear it from? The same father who’s refusing to speak to me?

I can feel the truth sinking in—Dmitri must have forced him into this. He must’ve done something, exerted some kind of pressure to make my father cut me off. It’s the only explanation. And the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

Dmitri acted on his threats. He actually did it. My fingers curl into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms. I can’t let this go.I can’t just sit back and take it. Dmitri needs to understand that I won’t be bullied, not by him or anyone else.

By the time the car pulls up to the house, I’m seething. I storm out, slamming the door behind me, and march up the steps, ready for a confrontation. The door opens just as I reach for the handle, and I nearly collide with Dmitri.

Perfect.

“Oh no, you don’t,” I say, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. He’s dressed like he’s about to leave, but there’s no way I’m letting him walk out now.

He frowns, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“What didyoudo?” I hiss, my voice low but filled with anger. “You threatened my father, didn’t you? You told him to stay away from me, to cut me off. And you have your minions following me around!”

Dmitri smooths his tie, seemingly unfazed. “We’ll talk about this when I return.”

I spread my arms, standing firm. “When you return? So you can disappear for another three weeks? No, Dmitri. You’re going to call off your henchmen, and you’re going to stop messing with my family. You already have me,” I add bitterly. “What more do you want?”

He glances past me at the guards standing outside, including the two who’ve been tailing me all day. “We’ll talk about this inside. I have ten minutes.”

I glare at him, unwilling to budge. “I’m going to say what I need to say no matter how long it takes, and then you can go off to whatever hole you’ve been hiding in.”

I storm into the house, not even waiting for him, but I don’t go further than the foyer. I stand my ground, arms crossed, glaring at him as he stops in the hallway.

“Call off your men,” I demand. “Now.”

He turns, his expression unreadable. “I won’t. They’re there to protect you. I told you before, there are people who might harm you to get to me.”

I scoff, not buying his excuse for a second. “Call them off, or I’ll leave and never come back.”

His eyes narrow, something cold flashing across his face. “I won’t let you.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. He still thinks I’ll obey him. He thinks his threats will keep me in line.

Not a chance.

I take a step forward. “Try me. You’ve already done more than enough. It’s time you realized I’m not someone to be toyed with.”

His eyes darken as he stares me down, but I don’t flinch.

“If you do manage to leave without my guards stopping you, your father will pay the price,” he says quietly, his voice dripping with cold arrogance.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but they don’t scare me. They don’t break me. My father’s already been lost to me since the day I walked down the aisle. If Dmitri wants to chip away at whatever’s left of me, he’ll have to try harder.

“I hate you,” I whisper, my voice steady, devoid of emotion. “I regret the day I married you.”

Before he can respond, I turn on my heel and walk out of the house. I don’t know where I’m going, but anywhere is better than here.

Anywhere is better than Dmitri Orlov.