Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“Dr. Azores.”
I’m not asking a question. I am clicking on to the reason he killed the doctor on our flight, but Maksim nods as if I am. “He was the head of the surgical team at Myasnikov Private before Dr. Abdulov took over. He—”
“Encouraged me to donate my mother’s organs.” I knew I had seen him before, but the trauma of the day had my coping mechanisms making most of my memories hazy. I’d rather forget them than try to hold on to fragments that mean nothing to me. “Did they—”
Maksim’s eyes fall to the floor, answering my question before I can ask it.
They didn’t donate my mother’s organs.
They sold them.
“How did you find out?”
He stares at me for several long seconds, gauging how I will respond to his reply.
He must see something profound inside my soul because my outward appearance shows nothing but a quivering bag of nerves.
After carefully placing me back onto my side of our seat, he removes a folder from a safe under a stationary bar. It looks like an official police document, but there is no department seal like most public service offices have.
“What the?” I murmur when he places a document beside his empty whiskey glass.
It is a contract for a sale, but instead of a new dishwasher or the latest model television being ordered, it is organs—vital ones patients can’t live without.
There’s no holding back my shock when the date and time on the ledger registers as familiar. It was the morning his mother was due to go into surgery—the exact date and time.
“She was meant to die on the table.” Maksim’s voice is a mix of anger and devastation. “And because she was an organ donor, no one would have batted an eye at them immediately removing her organs and shipping them to her purchaser instead of the people whose lives she wanted to save by choosing to be a donor.”
I don’t startle when he picks up his whiskey glass and smashes it against the wall. I want to hit something, and I’ve had years to process my mother’s injustices. Maksim has only had weeks.
“If you hadn’t fought for her, if you hadn’t unexpectedly shown up at her room in the middle of the night, she’d be dead.” He scoffs as if angry at himself. “Yet I still believed the lies they told.”
I wait, praying he will relieve some of my confusion.
He does two seconds later. “Dr. Abdulov placed all the blame on you. He even doctored my mother’s medical files so everything was in your name, and I stupidly believed the evidence.”
“No, you didn’t,” I deny, speaking on behalf of my heart and my head. “Because if you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Now his struggles make sense. Why he couldn’t look at me. Why he wouldn’t touch me even with the tension hot enough to scald.
He hated that he still wanted me even after all the lies they’d told.
“What made you realize I wasn’t involved?”
“I knew all along. I just…” A deep exhale breaks up his reply. “I let them believe I was thinking with my cock.” His expression takes on a serious note. “Then you offered to help me build a case against them before telling me about what happened to your mother and your sister.” His smirk isn’t close to a smile, but it is better than deepening the groove between his brows. “That’s when the dots started connecting.” He stares me straight in the eyes. “The benzodiazepine they gave your mother to make her unresponsive during her attack was found in the blood workup you were adamant my mother should get.”
“I knew it,” I murmur to myself. “I knew her soul left her body hours before her injuries claimed her life.”
When Maksim steps closer, eager to wipe away my tears, I clear them with my sleeve cuff before signaling for him to continue.
He’s not a man who lies, but he has no issues skirting the truth—especially if it can hurt someone he cares about.
That someone today is me.
But I need to hear this. We need to be honest with each other if we want to give our marriage a real chance of survival.
After ensuring my cheeks are dry, Maksim continues as requested. “The benzodiazepine was the cause of most of my mother’s symptoms.” I attempt to interrupt him, but he continues talking, foiling my chances. “She still has a B12 deficiency. You were right about that. But more was at play than a dip in vitamin absorbency.”
Her condition is far worse than he makes out, but I save my lecture for another day.
“We assumed it was a rival.” He laughs like he knows no one would ever be stupid enough to go against him like that. “We were wrong. They didn’t know who she was. They were clueless because to my competitors, I am still his son, so I’d never operate under the maiden name of his whore.” He keeps his eyes locked on his shoes as he licks his lips. “My mother traveled to Myasnikov to meet with a man who, even at his worst, would have treated her better than my father ever did, and almost lost her life in the process.” His eyes are back on me, hot and heavy. “How fucking ironic is that?”