Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I stand slowly, my heart pounding as I walk over to the small cabinet in the corner. My hands tremble as I retrieve the deed to my apartment and my father’s house, the same offer I made to him before—the one he rejected.
I place it gently on top of the pile.
“I know this won’t make a dent in the $320 million loan,” I say quietly, my voice barely steady. “But it’s not about the money. It’s about showing you that you’re not alone. You have people who believe in you.”
Ivan looks up at me, his blue eyes filled with something raw, something vulnerable. He’s not used to this—this kind of support, this kind of care. For a moment, he just stares, as though he’s trying to find the right words. Then, he nods, a small, tight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. And then he looks up at all his staff. “Really, thank you all. I deeply appreciate it.” They give to him with sincerity and great affection shining in their eyes and then leave the room, leaving us both alone once again. I return to my seat and watch him stare down in disbelief at the pile of documents and envelopes.
“You’re not going to use them, are you?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping.
“No,” he somehow works up a smile. “I cannot put their life’s savings in danger. What if I am killed in a road accident tomorrow? What will happen then? But I’ll keep them and return them at a later date. I… I can see that you all care and that you want to help me. And so, I’ll accept that help now. I won’t use your properties, but I’ll look to them for added strength when I need to remind myself that I’m not alone in this.”
My heart swells up and warms at this, but I know it makes me immensely sad.
He continues speaking. “I’ve decided to accept my sister’s help,” he admits after a moment, his voice low.
I am stunned by this and quite angry. “What… but…”
“I know,” he says. “My sister is a shark, but I have swum with sharks before and survived. Money can always be earned. I’ll be okay. The most important thing is to not allow the loan to be cancelled, because that will have a cascading effect on all the other businesses. Once that is secure then I’ll dedicate myself to fighting with every ounce of energy to clear my name,” he says, determination flickering in his eyes. “And I’ll make sure everyone who’s helped me is rewarded. Tenfold. At least. I’ll never forget this day as long as I live.”
Unable to finish his breakfast, Ivan stands. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispers again before turning and leaving the room.
I sit there in the silence that follows, staring at the uneaten food. There has to be something more I can do. I can’t stand the thought of his sister taking advantage of him like this. And since Nikolai is already in debt, he can’t help, there’s only one other person I can think of.
His father.
The idea feels bold, reckless even. But maybe... just maybe it’s the right move. I don’t know where his father is—France was the last place I saw him—but I know someone who might.
I pull out my phone and dial Nikolai’s number, my heart pounding in my chest as the line rings.
“Lara,” Nikolai’s voice greets me, teasing as usual. “Fancy you actually using my number and calling me. I would have never expected it in a million years.”
I too would have never expected that I would be doing this, but this is my last chance to help, and I will not miss it for anything, even my pride and reluctance.
“So, what can I do for you?” he asks.
“I need your father’s phone number,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s... it’s personal.”
There’s a pause, then Nikolai responds, his tone more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “I will get it. I’ll text it to you.”
I thank him, feeling a rush of relief when the number comes through. My fingers tremble slightly as I dial. This feels reckless—calling a man I’ve only met once, and under very different circumstances.
The phone rings once, twice, and then a deep voice answers, a familiar note of authority in the tone.
“Mr Ivanovich,” I begin.
“Lara,” he says immediately.
I freeze, caught off guard. “You... how do you know it’s me?”
“What do you want?” he asks, ignoring my question so I have no choice but to get to the point of why I’m calling him.
“I—I wasn’t sure if you’d be in New York,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “Can I… can we meet, Mr Ivanovich? You can tell me where you are, and I’ll find my way there.”