Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

39. Andrik

39

ANDRIK

“ H ow did you find out?”

After placing a bottle of whiskey on the bar, Mikhail strays his eyes to the hallway of the west wing. I know what door he’s imagining without needing to follow the direction of his gaze. My eyes have taken the same route numerous times in the past month, though they never had this level of angst attached to them.

“He looks a fuck ton like you, but he also doesn’t. He kinda…”

When his words trail off, I fill in the gaps. “Looks like you?”

He jerks up his chin. “That’s why I thought he was one of us.” By one of us, he means one of our father’s many sons. “So to say I was shocked when you introduced him as your son.” He blows out a hot breath. “I’ve never been more surprised, and I’ve seen some shit in my time.” Guilt flares through his eyes. I understand why when he murmurs, “Have you checked that the claim is legitimate?”

I nod as if DNA test results are immediate. I know Zakhar is my son. My gut tells me this, not to mention how I was immediately compelled to protect him. I’ve only had that desire once before. It was hours before I knew of Zakhar’s existence.

Mikhail’s swallow is audible before he asks, “Does Zoya know?”

A huff whistles through my teeth. I should have known his first thought would veer to Zoya instead of the woman he believes I am married to, because I had the exact same response.

When he remains staring, impatiently awaiting an answer, I shake my head. “No one knows, except…” I can’t force the remainder of my reply past my clenched jaw.

That’s how fucking furious I am. I want to go on a rampage. I want to kill the fools who thought they could play me like this and live to endure the aftermath of their stupidity, but to do that, I’d have to bury my son.

That isn’t something I can do. I am my father’s son, but he only makes up half my DNA. My mother couldn’t even take her anger out on the children causing infinite cracks in her marriage because she knew it wasn’t their choice to be born, so there’s no way I could treat my son with so much disrespect that it would cause his demise.

Realizing the waters are getting deeper and deeper, I seek help from one of the few people I trust. “Zak needs a heart transplant.”

“Okay.” Mikhail breathes out slowly like the pieces of the puzzle are slotting together. “We can get him one of those.”

“It isn’t as easy as it sounds.” He waits, knowing there’s more. “Not a single operation is performed in Russia without?—”

“The federation’s tick of approval,” Mikhail interrupts, finally clicking on. His eyes flick up this time. “That’s why you canceled the annulment? She’s their prime pick for the next First Lady.” He cusses when I nod, but just as quickly, confusion settles on his face. “But you only just found out about Zak, so what stopped you back then?” I don’t get the chance to talk. He’s too clued in to my quirks for me to get a word in, and I’m too bristling with anger to hide them from him. “In-vitro fertilization wouldn’t have broken the promise you made to your mom, Andrik.” I feel like a chump, but his following words make the burn not so scalding. “But I get it. It would be hard to woo a woman while initiating the downfall of another.”

Even with him hitting the nail on the head, it takes everything I have to keep my fists balled at my sides.

Mikhail doubles the effort. “That’s what you’re doing, right?” He tosses down a stapled document I didn’t know he was holding until now. “Ten million for each year of marriage after the birth of an heir, capped at fifty million.” He already knows the answer to his question, though he still asks it. “How did you know your marriage would only last five years after the birth of your son, Andrik?”

“The same way you knew how to read the terms of my contract, Mikhail.” I say his name with the same disdain he used for mine. “Because the pattern never alters. If you give them a son, you get five years. If you give them a daughter?—”

“They’re both dead.”

I don’t want to hurt him, but I can no longer continue to carry this burden alone, so I jerk up my chin instead of shaking my head

After a moment to settle his rising anger, Mikhail asks, “Is that what happened to Zak’s mother?”

I shrug, truly unsure and too snowed under wondering how I am going to fix my mammoth fuckup to care.

Mikhail will never let me disregard our family’s lineage so easily.

He glares until I buckle under the intensity.

“Zak talks about her as if she was a part of his life, but he hasn’t given me anything concrete like a name or the location where he grew up. You’d swear he was raised in a windowless room.”

My anger triples when Mikhail mutters, “He probably was.” He scoffs as if surprised I didn’t consider that myself before he gets back to more pressing matters than the identity of a woman with a looming expiration date. “This isn’t something I ever thought I’d say, but you can buy pretty much anything on the black market. Have you looked for a heart there?”

“I have,” I confess. “But those avenues in Russia became unavailable to me when I drafted and lodged a second annulment earlier this month.”

My fight with Zoya wasn’t the commencement of Arabella’s downfall. It was barely the tip of the iceberg. But none of that matters right now. Getting Zakhar a new heart must be my utmost priority.

“Then we will go to another country,” Mikhail spits out as if it is as simple as ordering your eggs sunny-side up instead of scrambled.

“We can’t. Zak can barely leave his room, so there’s no way he will survive an international flight.”

“Then we will bring the surgeon here along with his new heart!”

I understand his frustration. I fullheartedly understand it. But it doesn’t alter the facts. “A heart can’t survive outside its host for longer than four hours. The longer it is without oxygen, the more damaged the cells become, meaning we could replace Zak’s heart with one more damaged.”

“Fuck!” Mikhail knocks over the crystal bar no home in Russia is ever without before shooting his hands up to tug at his hair.

He yanks on it firmly enough for my roots to sympathize, his hand only dropping when I murmur, “But I know a way around the block.”

He looks confused until I raise my eyes to the floor above us, and then his expression switches to disgust.

He doesn’t want to play by their rules any more than I do, but we don’t have a choice.

All bets are off once Zakhar has a new heart, though.