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Zasha swallowed hard. “Mr. Zhukovsky⁠—”

“No.” I stepped closer, each word dropping like an anvil. “You don’t get to say another fucking thing until I’m finished.”

He shut his mouth instantly.

“You ungrateful little shit,” I said quietly. “Your brother gave up his childhood to raise you. He’s protected you his whole damn life, and that’s how you talk to him?”

Zasha flinched.

“You think he showed up here to ruin your life? He came because you asked. Because despite you disappointing him when you eloped with my daughter, leaving him to face your family alone, knowing how much they disapprove of him, he still loves you—still forgave you.”

His throat tightened. “But I⁠—”

“Shut up.”

His jaw snapped shut so hard it cracked.

“You want to be angry? Fine. We didn’t tell you we were involved, but that’s frankly none of your business and not something we should be forced to share until we’re both ready. Be angry. Be terrified. Be confused. But don’t you ever weaponize that man’s past and all he’s been through against him again. Not in front of me. Not ever. You get that?”

“I’m scared, all right?” Zasha’s breath hitched on a sob. “You don’t know Yuriy like I do. He’s impulsive, and he’s never been in a relationship. He toys around with people, then cuts them loose. And when he does that to you, where does that leave Yelena and me?”

“Your marriage is so weak that our relationship or the end of it would be a threat to yours?” I snapped.

He had the common sense to look ashamed. “You don’t know Yuriy like I do. Can you honestly say the problems you’re facing right now aren’t his doing?”

“Your brother jumped in to defend me when I was being robbed. And that was before we even got together. He hated my guts but still put himself between me and a blade just because you’re married to my daughter.” I stepped closer. Nose to nose. “You claim you know him, but you have no clue the kind of man your brother is, and the sooner you pull your head out of your ass and apologize to him, the better.”

His eyes glossed over, and he looked away.

“He shouldn’t have slept with you,” he whispered. “You’re my father-in-law.”

“I’m a grown man, Zasha, and I don’t like you implying I need your approval for who I decide to sleep with.”

“This is⁠—”

“None of your business.”

Zasha closed his eyes, his breathing shaky.

“Fine, maybe I was a bit harsh.” He frowned, turning toward the door. “But can you honestly say you don’t see a problem with you sleeping with my brother? One of you will be my child’s uncle and the other her grandfather. With due respect, Mr. Zhukovsky, that’s weird as fuck.”

“I’m not the one who’s due your respect, Zasha. I’m a stranger to you. The only thing that links us is you marrying my daughter. What about the man who raised you? I think you owe him more respect than you’ve ever shown him.”

Without another word, Zasha walked out, shoulders tight, footsteps heavy. The second he disappeared down the hall, I let out a long, frayed breath.

Then I moved fast. I ran through the bathroom, bare feet slipping on the tile, heart punching against my ribs. I shoved open the connecting door.

“Yuriy—” The name tore out of me, but the room was silent.

My stomach dropped. The bed was still a mess. Sheets twisted and dented from where we’d slept tangled together just hours ago. The memory of his body under mine, his voice in my ear while I rode him… stole the breath from my lungs.

But everything else?

Wrong.

I crossed the room in two strides and yanked open the closet.

Empty.