I remembered the night my father’s men dragged him into an alley and beat him until his words turned into broken sounds. I remembered Dimitri begging me not to marry Dominic, his voice hoarse with fear—not for himself, but for his mother, his sister. He said my father would destroy them all if I refused.
I remembered the promise ring warming my palm, still carrying his heat. He had grabbed my legs and begged me to run away with him. God, I wanted to. But I knew my father too well. So I chose survival. I told Dimitri he was poor. That he couldn’t give me the life I needed. I told him he smelled like dirt and debt and threw the ring into the mud.
He picked it up and cried.
He asked me one question—why—and I never answered.
“You remember that night, don’t you?” Dimitri said now, his voice tightly leashed. “You left me standing in the rain. You chose a life that fed you and poisoned you at the same time. You chose it.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
I wanted to tell him that I had regretted it in a thousand silent ways. That every night beside Dominic had felt like penance. But there was no room for confession now. Only Ethan. Only the memory of his screams.
“Tell me what happened,” Dimitri said at last. “Quickly. And don’t lie.”
I told him everything. The frozen account. The ransom clock. Dominic’s cruelty. The words spilled out messy and desperate, each detail laid bare like an offering.
The silence afterward stretched so long my throat ached from holding my breath.
“And you expect me,” Dimitri finally said, “to cross oceans because your husband is a monster and your past decisions have come collecting their debt? Why should I save a child you trapped in a gilded cage?”
I closed my eyes and saw him the way he once was—standing on a pier, city lights behind him, his hands firm on my face like the world could still be shaped.
“Because I’m asking,” I whispered. “That has to mean something.”
“It doesn’t,” he replied evenly. “You shattered me. You chose safety and left me bleeding in the street. If I save him, what do I receive in return? How will you pay?”
Fear crawled into my mouth and dried it shut.
Dimitri Ambramov wasn’t just powerful—he was feared. Men changed loyalties when his name surfaced. Borders bent for him. Laws softened. He didn’t destroy recklessly; he claimed what he wanted and kept it.