A check. With more zeros than I’ve ever seen in my life.
“What is this?” I ask, though I already know. My stomach churns with disgust.
“Compensation,” Andrei says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Marry my son. Bear the Akopov heir. Raise the child properly, in our traditions.” He gestures to the check. “That amount is just the beginning. There will be more, of course, as obligations are fulfilled.”
I stare at him, unable to believe what I’m hearing.
But I shouldn’t be surprised. Like father, like son. The apple didn’t fall far from the Akopov family tree.
And they’re all f*****g rotten to the core.
“Obligations,” I repeat, my voice hollow. “What does that make me?”
His expression doesn’t change. “You’re the mother of my grandchild. That gives you a certain value.”
