Chapter 4 - There Were No Men
Elara woke expecting regret.
Instead she felt strangely calm.
Snow pressed softly against the windows.
The house remained quiet.
For several minutes she stayed beneath the blankets and replayed the night before.
You are not payment.
Especially me.
There is nothing damaged about reaching twenty-six without giving people access to you.
Nobody had ever defended her from accusations she hadn’t earned.
Not her sisters.
Not family friends.
Certainly not Taras.
The dangerous Russian stranger she had married forty-eight hours earlier had somehow treated her with more dignity than the man who raised her.
That didn’t mean she trusted Vadim.
But it complicated her fear.
At breakfast, Marina told her Vadim had already left for the city.
“He works early.”
“Apparently.”
“He said you may use the library.”
Elara looked up.
“He has a library?”
Marina smiled.
“Three.”
That was the first genuinely exciting information Elara had received since arriving in Russia.
The largest library occupied nearly half the western wing.
Elara entered and stopped.
Two levels.
Rolling ladders.
Fireplace.
Windows overlooking the frozen grounds.
Thousands of books.
She spent an hour exploring before finding a section devoted to Slavic literature.
“You look happier.”
Vadim’s voice came from behind her.
Elara turned.
He stood in the doorway.
“You came back.”
“This is my house.”
“I meant early.”
“Am I interrupting?”
“No.”
He approached but stopped several feet away.
“You like it?”
“I’m considering staying just for the library.”
“You negotiate aggressively.”
She smiled before realizing she was doing it.
Vadim noticed.
Something subtle changed in his expression.
Then he became serious.
“Mikhail confirmed something.”
Elara closed the book in her hands.
“What?”
“There is no evidence supporting your father’s stories.”
Her stomach tightened.
“You investigated me?”
“Before the marriage.”
“Of course.”
“That sounded judgmental.”
“It was.”
Vadim accepted that.
“My people initially assumed your father knew things we couldn’t verify.”
“And now?”
“Now we assume your father invented them.”
Elara placed the book back on the shelf.
“I already told you that.”
“I believed you.”
“Then why investigate again?”
“To determine why he lied.”
Elara folded her arms.
“And?”
Vadim studied her.
“There may be a financial reason beyond the debt.”
Her chest tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father borrowed four million from me eight months ago to prevent one of his companies from collapsing.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“What company?”
“Fagan Logistics.”
Elara knew it.
Thousands of employees.
Warehouses in Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.
“What happened?”
“Losses. Bad investments. Missing money.”
“Missing?”
Vadim nodded.
“Mikhail believes someone has been moving company funds through shell accounts.”
“Dad?”
“We don’t know.”
Elara frowned.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“That’s what we’re finding out.”
The answer didn’t comfort her.
“What exactly did my father promise you?”
“Marriage. Strategic cooperation between our legitimate companies. Access to several distribution contracts.”
“And the debt disappears?”
“Yes.”
“Why marriage?”
Vadim hesitated.
It was the first time she had seen him do so.
“My family expected me to marry eventually.”
Elara blinked.
“That is the least romantic sentence ever spoken.”
“I warned you this was transactional.”
“You did.”
He almost smiled.
“My grandmother wanted grandchildren.”
Elara froze.
Vadim immediately understood.
“She is eighty-three and has opinions. Her opinions are not obligations.”
“Good.”
“She is also in Switzerland and will not arrive unannounced.”
“Better.”
He looked at her.
“You’re afraid of expectations.”
“I’ve spent my life failing other people’s.”
Vadim’s expression changed again.
“Then stop.”
She stared.
“Stop what?”
“Living according to them.”
“That sounds very simple when you say it.”
“It isn’t.”
He took a book from the shelf.
“But difficult things remain possible.”
Elara watched him.
“Did you always talk like fortune cookies?”
“No.”
“That one was close.”
His laughter surprised her.
It was quiet.
Brief.
Real.
For the first time, Vadim Sokolov looked younger than forty.
Then Mikhail appeared at the entrance.
His expression erased the moment.
“Vadim.”
“What?”
“We found the account.”
Vadim’s face became unreadable.
Elara looked between them.
“What account?”
Mikhail hesitated.
Vadim nodded permission.
Mikhail turned toward her.
“An account in your name.”
Elara felt the floor shift beneath her.
“I don’t have any business accounts.”
“This one contains six hundred thousand dollars.”
Her mouth went dry.
“I’ve never seen six hundred thousand dollars.”
“We know.”
“How?”
“The account was created using forged authorization.”
Vadim’s voice hardened.
“Your father may have been transferring company funds under your identity.”
Elara stared at him.
“No.”
“It isn’t confirmed.”
“No. He wouldn’t…”
She stopped.
Wouldn’t what?
Lie?
Use her?
Sell her?
Humiliate her?
Her father had already demonstrated all of those things.
Six hundred thousand dollars suddenly seemed almost ordinary.
Vadim stepped closer.
Elara instinctively moved back.
He immediately stopped.
That tiny act—respecting the distance—made her breathing easier.
“If he used my name,” she whispered, “why marry me to you?”
Mikhail answered.
“Because if questions arose later, it would be convenient for you to be outside the United States and tied to a powerful foreign husband.”
The truth struck hard.
Elara sat down.
Taras had not merely wanted her gone.
He might have needed her gone.
She had spent years believing her father considered her useless.
What if he had found a use for her after all?
A shield.
A signature.
A convenient daughter nobody would believe.
Vadim crouched several feet in front of her, keeping his hands to himself.
“Elara.”
She looked at him.
“Your father’s decisions are not your guilt.”
“You don’t know what he did.”
“No. But neither do you.”
Mikhail’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His face became grave.
“There’s more.”
Vadim stood.
“What?”
“The account isn’t the only document carrying Elara’s signature.”
Elara’s blood turned cold.
“How many?”
Mikhail looked at her.
“At least fourteen.”
The library suddenly felt much smaller.
“What did I supposedly sign?”
Mikhail hesitated.
“Loan guarantees. Corporate transfers. Property authorizations.”
Elara couldn’t breathe.
Vadim’s voice became dangerously calm.
“When?”
“The earliest dates back six years.”
Six years.
Elara had been twenty.
At university.
Living in the same mansion where her father barely acknowledged her.
All that time, perhaps Taras hadn’t ignored her at all.
Perhaps he had been quietly turning his unwanted daughter into the perfect place to hide his mistakes.
Elara looked at Vadim.
“What happens if those documents are discovered?”
Mikhail answered carefully.
“Without evidence of forgery, someone could try to blame you.”
Elara closed her eyes.
The marriage suddenly looked different.
Her departure suddenly looked different.
Even Taras’s fabricated reputation looked different.
If Elara ever accused him, who would believe the awkward, supposedly promiscuous daughter her father had already taught everyone not to respect?
Vadim looked toward the snow-covered windows.
Something cold entered his expression.
Taras Fagan had lied about Elara’s past.
He had lied about her consent.
And now it appeared he might have spent years building a future in which she could be blamed for his crimes.
Vadim turned toward Mikhail.
“I want every document.”
“We’re obtaining them.”
“And Taras?”
“Still in Chicago.”
Vadim looked at Elara.
“Then let him stay comfortable.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
Vadim’s voice became almost gentle.
“Because people make mistakes when they believe nobody knows the truth.”
May you like
And in Chicago, Taras Fagan was about to make his first one.
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