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“I know Ivan and I have been having problems for two years now.” My mother takes in a shaky breath, and her voice wobbles. “Since he had his heart attack and the other scares, I’ve been preparing myself…” She clears her throat. “But I never thought I’d have to be the one to decide when to switch off his life support.”
“I thought he was just in a coma?” My brows furrow.
“He had a brain bleed they didn’t pick up,” my mother explains. “It caused a hemorrhage, and by the time they found it, the damage was already done. They did everything they could, but…”
“But now they say he’s brain dead,” I finished for her, feeling like I was having a bad dream.
“Yes,” she whispers, breaking down into sobs. “I don’t know what to do, Andrey.”
I take a deep breath, trying to control my emotions. “We’ll get through this together, Mom. When I’m back, we’ll make the decision together.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I have to go.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Please take care and trust no one except Isabella. I’ll see you soon. I love you son.”
As I hang up, my mind is racing with an overload of information. The one at the forefront of my thoughts is: How the fuck could they have missed a brain bleed on the initial scans? I know these doctors. They’re thorough. Something doesn’t add up. Could someone have tampered with his condition after the fact, making it look like a hemorrhage?
I shake my head, trying to push away the paranoia, but it lingers. I need to know. I also need to get to the boarding gate. As I leave the bathroom I call the hospital.
“This is Dr. Andrey Zhukov. I need to see the scans and medical reports of my father, Ivan Zhukov.”
The nurse on the other end hesitates. “I’ll connect you to Doctor Jacobs, the attending physician.”
“Thank you.”
But she doesn’t put me through, and the line goes dead. What the fuck? Who the hell can I call to get that information? A name pops into my head. Instead of calling, I shoot the person a text. It’s not long, and they text me back.
I’m already on it. I started snooping as soon as your mother told me.
I breathe a sigh of relief, switch off, and pocket my phone. I watch Isabella. She’s standing near the gate, looking for me. As I watch her, I wonder which Isabella is—friend or foe! My heart wants to believe I can trust her, as my mother says, but my brain is leaning more toward my brother—I’m also wondering if she knows what her brother’s up to.
I’m so deep in thought that I nearly knock a woman over when I go to join Isabella. Then I look up to see it’s the flight attendant from earlier.
“Shit, sorry,” I say. “I didn’t see you.”
“You looked deep in thought,” Her cool eyes assess me.
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“I heard,” she says, sending shock waves through me. Fuck! Was she listening to my conversation?
“What did you hear?” My eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Back near the kiosk when you muttered to yourself that your wife was jealous of me,” she tells me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “I came back to offer her some ginger mints that I have. They help me a lot even with travel sickness.”
“That must be a hindrance to your profession.”
“It can be.” She laughs. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve already given your wife the mints.”
“Fuck! Did she think I sent you again?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “She told me you’d gone to the bathroom.”
“So you’re stalking me?”
“No, I came here to tell you that you’re mistaken,” she insists.
“About what?” I ask, raising a brow curiously.
“Your wife being jealous,” the woman clarifies. “She’s not feeling envious. She’s uncomfortable and struggling to accept the changes happening to her body.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “Pregnancy can make a woman feel both humbled and unattractive. And even though we may not like to admit it, it can also bring out our insecurities.” She glances over me. “You’re an incredibly handsome man, and in her mind, she may fear that you’ll find her less attractive now.”
