“Why not?” She turns around. Her chin quivers. “Because you’re not ready to kill me yet?”
My chest tightens. “Joy.”
“What thefuck,Valerian?” she shouts. Her voice is a mix of anger and terror. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tears fall down her cheeks. “This whole time, I’ve been askingmyselfthat question. And then I find out you murdered your own fucking wife.” Her eyes are red as more tears fall.
I keep holding her. She’s not going anywhere, and she knows that. That’s why she turns away. She doesn’t want to look at me.
She’s always been very good at doing that.
My chest hurts, seeing how devastated she looks. Fuck. I never wanted this. I didn’t want to make her cry, or for her to be afraid of me.
I stay seated on the lounger, grinding my jaw, resisting the temptation to let go of her hand.
“You don’t know what happened.”
“I don’t think I want to,” sniffles Joy. She wipes her face and turns back around to meet my eyes. This time, she doesn’t look so angry. She wants answers. “You never loved your wife, did you? You married her to punish someone else. And then when you were done with her, you killed her.” Her face hardens. “It’s an easy solution for you, isn’t it? You just toss people away in the mountains. Let the vultures do the rest.” Her face is pale. This is how she looked this morning. “For once, I have no words.” She turns away from me.
“That’s not what happened, Joy.”
“How am I supposed to believe a word you tell me?”
“You can draw your own conclusions,” I tell her. “But you’ve only heard one side of the story. A journalist like you should know better than that.”
Joy looks at me again. Her eyes are full of venom. And I can already feel it spreading through my body. Victims don’t normally make me feel anything.
But I guess Joy isn’t one of my victims.
“Sit down.”
“No. I’ll stay seated, thank you.”
I grind my jaw again. “Fine.” I turn my body around to face her, stroking the stubble on my chin. “You’re right. I never loved her. I was twenty-eight and my visa was running out.”
“You’re an actual piece of shit.” Joy issues me a scolding glare. “You were doing it just for the green card.”
“Not just for the green card,” I grit. “But that was part of it.” I swallow. “We met here in the city, went on a few dates and what not. It was casual. But her father liked me, especially when he found out about how well my Bratva was doing. He wanted us to get married. I wasn’t sure about us.” I swipe a piece of hair away from my forehead. “But I knew it would be a good idea to get married. For example, I’d be able to stay in the country with the green card. And she loved me. She was happy to get married. So, we did.” I sigh, resenting Igor for telling Joy this. “A few months go by—she gets pregnant with Igor. I always wanted a child. I thought it would be good for the Bratva.”
“Good for the Bratva,” repeats Joy. “That’s your only reason?”
I ignore her comment for now, continuing with the story. “My wife at the time—she’s about five months into the pregnancyat this point, gets a call from her father. I don’t know what was said, but ever since that call, she started acting differently. More dismissive. I knew her father was to blame.” I release Joy, knowing she won’t be going anywhere until I finish this story. I raise my hand, shielding it from the sun as it shifts between clouds. “The first time I met her father, I knew there was something off. He was pushy with us being together. A little too forward. It was weird. Fathers are very protective over their daughters—why is thismudakin a rush to marry off his only daughter?”
Joy frowns, watching me.
“I ignored the warning signs because I needed the green card. And it almost cost me everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“My wife’s father was a philanthropist, always hosting charity events, etcetera. You know the type—they love to preach about how involved they are with the community?”
Something shifts on Joy’s face. She’s starting to wake up to the real realities of the world. I see it on her face. The people who preach the most about doing right, are usually the ones doing wrong.
“What does being a philanthropist have to do with anything?”
“He wanted to do wrong, sweetheart.” I look her in the eye. “His daughter was married to the leader of averypowerful Bratva. He could get away with anything. And he did, multiple times. He used his status in the public eye to threaten me and my men.”
Joy raises her brows.
“You think strangling a man to death is bad?” I pin her a glare. “My wife’s father did far worse than that, so inhumane that I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my wife what he was doing.” I look at the ground, taking a breath. “In retrospect, I wish I had told her. Because maybe then I could have saved her… before he mutilated her, himself, leaving her to die a slow, agonizing death.”