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My solicitor sits in front of me as I go over the final amendments made to my will. I’d cleared the remaining meetings for the day so I could solely focus on this. My mind had been wandering over the last two meetings that I attended.
It felt pointless continuing this charade, considering I wasn’t entirely sure I’d make it back anytime soon. I don’t intend to die tomorrow when I fight The Lion, but when dancing with another monster, the truth of the matter is only one of us will make it out alive.
I read the precise print; anything involving the company and its assets goes to my grandfather. Forty percent of my remaining worth goes to my mother, and thirty percent of each is written out to an Elanee and Layla Lane.
I know they’ll both hate me for it. But besides my mother and grandfather, they’re the only two I’ve ever cared about. Naturally, I left the ownership of Lev in Layla’s name. She was there just as much as I was and was the only person I could think of to manage its reputation.
My will is something I should’ve considered earlier since receiving my diagnosis, but I was in denial leading up until now. The last week especially has been a reminder of my mortality as the tell-tale signs have become more apparent and my body frequently disobedient. The nail in the coffin was the outburst I had at Elanee. I’d slipped so effortlessly into accusingly yelling at her and twisting horrible assaults one after the other. That’s when I realized how out of control I was.
I go to grab the pen, but my hand feels numb holding the paper. I try to flex it, but it barely moves. It’s as if my body is mocking my previous thoughts. I grind my teeth, frustrated by its tediousness. Finally, my hand continues to move against its phantom restraints, and I grab the pen as my office door flies open.
“I don’t care if he’s in a meeting,” Layla screams at my assistant, Chris. I sigh as he peaks his head around the corner, mortified that he’d let another person waltz in on their own accord. Although this isn’t the first time she’s welcomed herself, in fact she’s made a habit of it lately.
“This looks about right,” I say to the solicitor as I sign and casually hand it to him. Layla looks between us but crosses her arms. She tries to sneak a peek, but he’s already placed it in his suitcase. It’s better that she doesn’t know what it’s for because then she might suspect the worst. I was doing it just as a precaution.
Her foot begins tapping on the floor as she waits for the solicitor to excuse himself. He gives her tight leather attire a brief up-and-down glance because, to some, it might seem out of place in a corporate office.
“Good day, Mr. Volkov,” he says and takes his leave. We both silently watch him leave before all hell breaks loose.
When the door shuts behind him, Layla snaps at me. “You have time for meetings but not to see my sister?”
My jaw tics from irritation. How could she expect me to face her after everything that transpired? How could I even look at her or push past the gnawing sense of guilt for how I spoke to her? Hadn’t I done enough damage?
“It’s easier this way.” Easier if she hates me.
“For whom?” she snaps. “Do you have any idea how depressed my sister is? I’ve been watching her since the moment you left because I’m so fucking scared as to what she might do if left by herself.”
My fists scrunch up at her insinuation. “Who’s with her now?”
“Are you serious? You should be! And, of course, I didn’t leave her alone, but get fucked if you genuinely think you’re going to go into this fight tomorrow morning without so much as saying anything to her.”
I tidy the papers beside me. “It’s easier this way, Layla. Besides, she doesn’t need me; she needs you.”
“Horseshit! Fuck me, you’re such an idiot sometimes!”
I try my hardest to purposefully ignore her and continue with my things. She takes two steps and flings the items to the side, but they fall into a mess. I begrudgingly look up at her as she stares down at me. Too similar to the face of the woman I love. Too much of the attitude of my best friend, who’s purposefully pushing my buttons.
“How can I possibly show myself to her after everything I said? What if I make it worse? What if I… what if I hurt her?”
She scoffs. “You had an outburst, and you need to explain to her why, Dmitri—no more staying quiet about your diagnosis. Either you tell her, or I do. She is barely holding on by a thread right now.”
I slam my hands on the table and stand. “I’m barely holding on by a thread!” My lungs expand as I try my hardest to keep every lethal edge within me. But it’s become too turbulent; my ability to snap and have outbursts too frequent now. But she doesn’t back down. I try to rein in my composure. I’ve never handled being threatened well, but this is too much. This doesn’t feel like me anymore.
“Well then, welcome to the club, princess,” she sasses me. “I know you’re not entirely yourself right now. I understand there’s a lot happening to you.” Her voice breaks and it’s the only thing to simmer down my nerves as I’m reminded of the precarious situation we’re both in. “I have kept your secret from her, Dmitri, but you owe her at least an explanation. You might think that you’re an asshole. That you’re no good for her and that you haven’t been able to protect her…” I hate how much she hits the mark. “I know you think you’re protecting her by vilifying yourself. What she needs right now is you. You’re the person she needs most... Look at what she’s been through. Dmitri, her toes—” Her voice breaks off. And I’m reminded of the mutilated feet. My hands scrunch on the desk. “This isn’t about your shame. This is about my sister and best friend slipping away, right out of my grasp, and I know right now the only thing that’s going to bring back any type of fight in them is each other.”
I sink into myself at her words—damn her perception and knowing me for all of these years. “Dmitri, you need to make this right before it’s too late. Tomorrow is dangerous.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I berate.
“Your revenge is going to get you killed,” she says quietly.
Don’t you think I know that as well? But I hesitate saying it.
“You can’t fight in this condition. We got her out, and now you can focus on yourself like you promised.”
“She’s not out until he’s dead,” I say bluntly.
Her jaw clenches. “Do you think I’m not tired from fighting for both of you, too?” she says quietly. “You two are my family. She needs you, Dmitri. If you die tomorrow, you might as well be taking her to the grave with you because she’ll never forgive herself. I’ll never forgive myself.”
