Chapter 17 "How dare you burst into my house like this?" Yana's shriek hits a pitch that might shatter the floor-to-ceiling glass if she doesn't tone it the fuck down. Her eyes dart between my men as they methodically tear through her oversized mansion, searching every room, every closet, every miniscule fucking corner where she might be hiding something that could hurt my nephew. I pluck an apple from her fruit bowl and take a bite. The juice runs down my chin, but I don't bother wiping it away. "Call them off!" she screeches again. "Right now!" I toss the apple in the air and catch it. "Hmm... No." Her face wrinkles into a hideous sneer. "You wouldn't be doing this if Ihor were here." The sound of splintering wood echoes from somewhere down the hall. Yana flinches. "I don't give a shit if Ihor's here or not." I take another bite. "I'm making sure my nephew is living somewhere safe. Get used to these visits." She spins toward the sound of destruction. "I have antiques all over this house. If they break anything⁠-" "Those antiques were bought with Bratva money. My money. Which makes them mine to take back. Mine to break." Her lip curls up even tighter, even nastier. "What exactly are you hoping to find?" "I don't know. Maybe a room full of pineapple." The color drains from her face. Good. She knows exactly what I'm talking about. "Are you still obsessing over that stupid little flare-up?" She waves her hand dismissively. "That was weeks ago. Luka's fine." "No thanks to you." "It was the nanny's fault. I fired her." "Why was there pineapple in the house at all, Yana?" I step closer, close enough to see the panic flickering in her eyes. "You know your son could die from that shit." "So because he can't eat it, I can't, either? Ihor can't?" Her voice gets shrill again. "I assumed the nanny would remember what her charge is allergic to." "Funny thing about that nanny." I drop the apple core on her pristine marble floor. "I talked to her yesterday. Poor woman was a wreck. Felt so guilty about what happened to Luka." Yana goes very still. " ... but she swore she was never told about his allergy." "She's lying." The words shoot out of her mouth too fast to be believed. "Of course she's lying. What else is she going to say, that spineless bitch?" "The woman has a perfect reputation. Came with the best references I'd ever seen. That's why I hired her." Yana goes for a new tactic. Her nose rises as she sniffles imperiously. "Well, clearly, you hired wrong. Because of your decision, my son almost died." I want to laugh. Or spit in her face. Maybe both. "Yes, your son almost died," I agree. "And it took you two days to come back from Cancun when you found out." Her spine straightens. "He was with you anyway." Osip appears in my peripheral vision, gesturing from the hallway entrance. I ignore Yana's continued protests and walk over. "We found drugs in the attic room," he reports. "Weapons, too. All stacked up nice and neat." He pauses. "Right next to a case of pineapple." "Are you fucking kidding me?" "Wish I was. The drugs are the good stuff. Cocaine, ecstasy, LSD. Enough to supply half of San Francisco." I run my hand over my jaw. "Thanks. I'll handle it from here." "Want me to stay and supervise? The ice queen looks ready to stab you with one of her fancy letter openers." "I'd love to see her try." Osip nods and disappears. I turn back to Yana, who's watching me with murder in her eyes. There was a time, years ago when Vitalii first brought her around, that I thought she was beautiful. Those silver eyes were striking. Her smile could make a man forget his own name. Then she opened her mouth. The spell died immediately. "Ihor will hear about this," she threatens. "Tell him. I don't give a fuck. But you know what's going to change? Your allowance." Her eyebrows shoot up. "What?" "You heard me. If you've got money to blow on drugs and weapons, you've got too much money." Her face goes white. "How did you-? That room was locked!" "My men don't pay attention to locks." She lunges forward with her fist raised. Fuck only knows what she was thinking, though, because I catch her wrist effortlessly and twist until she cries out. "Stupid move." She tries to knee me in the balls, but the attack is so predictable I've already stepped out of range. "You're going to regret this," she hisses. "The only thing I regret is not convincing my brother to divorce you when he had the chance." "Is that really your only regret?" she mocks. "Not stopping him from marrying me in the first place?" I shake my head. "If he hadn't married you, Luka wouldn't exist. And I wouldn't trade that boy for anything. Not even the pleasure of being rid of you." She screams in frustration, trying to wrench free from my grip. When that doesn't work, she starts pummeling my chest with her free hand. "It's easier picking on an eight-year-old, isn't it?" I remark. "I love my son!" "Sure you do. Try saying it with some tears next time. Might be more convincing." Another scream. The woman has always been dramatic as hell. I've spent countless nights wondering what my brother saw in her. "Love" never seemed like the right answer. How could you love someone with this much poison in their veins? "You can't cut my allowance! I need it to take care of Luka." "Except you don't take care of Luka. I do." I release her wrist and her own momentum sends her stumbling backward. "I pay his school fees. His medical bills. I buy his clothes. All you have to do is feed him three meals a day-meals that don't include pineapple-and you can't even manage that." I pull the papers from my jacket and slap them on the table between us. "Sign those." She stares at the documents suspiciously. "What are they?" "Custody papers. Temporary guardianship transfers to me." Her nostrils flare. "Absolutely not." "I'm not asking." I set my Mont Blanc pen on top of the papers. "I came for a signature. I'm not leaving without one." "I'm not signing anything." "Why are you fighting this, Yana?" I sound tired. Defeated. "Everyone with eyes knows you don't have a single maternal instinct. Face it-the only reason you had Luka was to trap my brother." "That's not true. Vitalii and I were in love." "Right. So in love that, a month after he died, you married another man." I lean forward. "How about the fact that you were fucking half of San Francisco while he was still alive?" "You can't prove anything." "I don't need to prove anything except that you're neglecting and abusing your son." Her face crumples. The transformation is seamless-from rage to sorrow in a blink. If I didn't know her so well, I might actually believe it. "Please, Kovan." Tears start flowing, as per my suggestion. "Don't do this. He's my son. I haven't always been perfect, but who is? I'm trying. I love him. Don't take him from me." I'm unmoved. "You missed your calling. Should've been an actress." She struggles to maintain her heartbroken expression while fury burns in her eyes. It's almost amusing, the two warring in her face. As always, hate wins in the end. "Sign the papers and I won't cut your allowance," I offer. "We'll call it even." Her eyes flash. She can smell the opportunity. But signing means admitting she's willing to sell her child for money. "This isn't the end," she says slowly. "You only want temporary custody so you can sue for permanent custody. You're trying to steal my son." "It's not stealing if I tell you what I'm doing." I pick up the pen and hold it out. "Sign. You don't have a choice." After another agonizing moment's hesitation, she snatches the pen and scrawls her signature across the paper, the ink bleeding from the force. Then she throws the pen at my feet. I pick it up without comment. "Good girl." "Fuck you." Venom drips from every word. "You're not getting away with this. No court will give you full custody as long as I'm alive." "Don't give me ideas." Her eyes narrow to slits. "You wouldn't dare. You hate me. You might even want to kill me. But you'd never do that to Luka." She's right. The bitch has me there. "You think you have the upper hand, but you're wrong." She steps closer. "I'm your sister-in-law. Family. Which means I know your secrets. And I'm not talking about the metaphorical skeletons in your closet." My blood goes cold, but I don't let it show. "We all have skeletons, Yana," I say instead. "If you don't want yours exposed, be careful who you threaten." "It's not a threat." Her smile turns vicious. "It's a promise." "Then I have nothing to worry about." I fold the signed papers and slide them back into my jacket. "You were never very good at keeping promises." She shoves me as hard as she can. "Get out of my house." This time, my smile is genuine. "With pleasure."