Sarah swallowed nervously. “I don’t know.”
“You do know,” I said quietly. “You’re just afraid to say it.”
Her eyes flashed. “Of course I’m afraid. I’m not like you, Dmitri. I can’t just—” She cut herself off, her breath shaking. “I can’t live like this.”
Neither could I, not today, not with exhaustion in my bones and a man’s cries for mercy still ringing in my ears. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the counter. “Listen to me. I am not afraid of the consequences, but if you lie on the stand, you give them power.”
Sarah’s mouth twisted. “They already have power. They tried to take my child.”
“And they failed,” I said.
She stared at me, and I could see the unspoken words behind her eyes.Because of you.If Nikolay hadn’t been there, I dread to think what could have happened.
I softened my voice. “If you lie, you become theirs. Not just today. Forever. They will know you are willing to commit perjury. They will use it. Every time they need something, they will remind you of what you did. They will threaten you with it.”
Sarah’s fingers clenched in her lap. “And if I don’t lie, they’ll hurt Alexis.”
I held her gaze. “If you tell the truth, you do what is right for you and your daughter. And I will make sure they cannot touch you.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “You can’t promise that.”
I didn’t flinch. “I can.”
The confidence in my voice wasn’t arrogance. It was calculation. It was the truth. The Italians had crossed a line the moment they involved a child. There were rules even in war. And if they wanted to play without them, I would teach them what that cost.
Sarah shook her head, as if she couldn’t accept that kind of certainty. “Even if you can protect us physically, what about… everything else? If I tell the truth and they come at me another way. If they…” she swallowed. “If the court thinks I lied before or thinks I’m not credible… If I get in trouble—”
“Exactly,” I said. “If you lie, you risk jail. Not just risk—real jail. And if you go to jail, who takes care of Alexis? Where is her father?”
Her face went still.
That landed. That was the fear under all the other fears. The one that mattered.
Sarah’s voice was barely audible. “Her father is not in the picture.”
There was something in her words. Part of me wanted to press further, but it was clear that whatever happened between her and her daughter’s father was painful.
“My mother would care for her,” she said quietly.
“And if they hurt your mother?” I asked.
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. She blinked hard, jaw clenched.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t let that happen.”
“You need to do what is right,” I said as I reached out and grabbed her hand. The action came before I even realized what I was doing.
Sarah froze, looking at my hand on hers. Her eyes were soft, then the softness vanished, replaced by exhaustion.
She rubbed her forehead. “I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“It’s been… a day.” Her laugh was thin. “I’m going to go to bed early, tomorrow will be a long day.”
“Sleep.”
Sarah stood, hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Goodnight, Dmitri.”