Chapter 6: Victor Comes to Fight
He found me the next afternoon.
I was staying at a small hotel two miles from the clinic — Gregor had arranged it, a quiet room on the third floor with a window that faced a courtyard instead of the street.
I had slept for eleven hours.
I had eaten breakfast alone.
I had sat in the chair by the window and watched pigeons on the courtyard wall and thought about nothing in particular, which was the first time I had been able to do that in three years.
The knock on the door came just after two.
I looked through the peephole.
Victor.
No one with him.
I opened the door.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
His shirt was the same one from yesterday.
His eyes had the particular brightness of someone who had been awake too long and was running on something harder than coffee.
"We need to talk," he said.
"All right."
I stepped back.
He came in.
I left the door open.
He looked around the room — the made bed, the small table, the untouched minibar — and something in his expression flickered.
He had expected something different.
Disorder, maybe.
Evidence of distress.
"You look fine," he said.
It came out like an accusation.
"I am fine," I said.
"The baby is fine."
He sat down on the edge of the bed without being invited.
"My father's lawyer called this morning.
About the house."
"I know."
"You knew about this.
The debt, the agreement — you knew."
"I knew there was a contact," I said.
"I didn't know the details until yesterday."
"That's convenient."
I looked at him.
"Victor.
Your father used your name on three fraudulent company documents.
The police have forty-seven hours of footage from inside your own kitchen.
Your sister filmed it.
Your father's lawyer is not going to save him.
And you came here to accuse me of being convenient."
His jaw tightened.
"Those documents — I didn't know what I was signing.
He told me they were investment filings."
"Then tell that to Detective Marsh."
"I'm telling you."
"I'm not the one who needs to hear it."
He stood up.
The bed frame creaked.
He crossed the room and stopped two feet from me, and I recognized the posture — the way he used his height, the way he positioned himself to make the space feel smaller.
I didn't step back.
"You could drop this," he said.
"All of it.
The documentation, whatever that doctor filed, the house — you could walk away.
I'll give you money.
Enough to start over.
You and the baby, you'd never have to worry."
"You're offering me a settlement."
"I'm offering you a way out that doesn't destroy everyone."
"Everyone," I said.
"You mean you."
His expression shifted.
The offer hadn't worked.
He moved to the next thing.
"My mother is sixty-three years old," he said.
"Whatever you think she did, she's not well.
If this goes forward, if there's a trial—"
"Helena stood in that kitchen and told your father to hjt me again," I said.
"While I was on the floor.
While I was protecting our child.
She clapped."
Silence.
"I have the video," I said.
"Marsh has the video.
Dr.
Vasic has the medical report.
You have nothing to offer me that changes any of that."
Victor looked at me for a long moment.
Something moved across his face — not remorse, not quite.
More like a man watching a door close that he had believed would always stay open for him.
"You won't get away with this," he said.
"My father has people.
Connections.
You think one old man with a debt agreement is going to protect you from—"
"Gregor Vass," I said.
Victor stopped.
"That's his full name," I said.
"Gregor Vass.
You can look him up if you'd like.
Your father recognized it immediately.
I think you should understand why."
The brightness went out of Victor's eyes.
What replaced it was something I had never seen on his face before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not anger dressed up as fear.
The actual thing.
He walked to the door.
Stopped with his hand on the frame.
"This isn't over," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"It is."
He left.
I closed the door behind him.
I stood in the quiet room for a moment.
Then I walked to the window and looked out at the courtyard.
The pigeons were still on the wall.
My phone — a new one Gregor had arranged — buzzed on the table.
A message from Marsh.
*Warrant executed this morning.
Raul Voss taken in for questioning.
His attorney is requesting a continuance.
We have enough to charge.*
I set the phone face down on the table.
Sat in the chair.
May you like
Put my hand on my stomach.
She moved.
