The statement was notarized, signed, and date-stamped.
Rubbing my chin as I realized Mariska’s faith in me ran deeper than I probably deserved, I murmured, “Your mother thought of everything.”
Passing the note to Camille, I watched as, eyes watering, she read the letter, whispering, “It’s dated four days before she died.”
Her pain hit me like a hammer to the heart, and I tucked my arm around her shoulders, holding her close as I whispered, “She kept you girls safe. That’s all she ever wanted to do.”
Camille gulped, before she rasped, “Maxim must have gone through everything in the house to find this.”
“Did he know your mother?”
“Yeah. She was good to him.” She bit her lip. “She was good to everyone.”
I murmured, “Then, if he knew that, he probably also knew that your father wouldn’t think to protect you because he was a selfish cunt, and knew Mariska might have dealt with the legalities before she died.
“Vasov isn’t officially dead, but it doesn’t matter now, does it? Whether his death is ever reported or not, Victoria’s safe.”
“Lucky,” was all Eoghan said.
My lips twisted. “That’s the luck of the Irish for ya.” I squeezed her. “See? Even the universe knows you’re Irish now.”
A choked laugh escaped her as we shared a glance, warmth arcing between us, before Eoghan grumbled, “The fuck is this head about?””
Somber shadows darkened her eyes as both of us accepted the unpalatable truth. Lukov was no longer a threat, because Lyanov was tying up loose ends. He was making his grab for the Pakhan’s throne, but more than that...
“Lyanov’s started to court your sister,” I rumbled, and her shaky exhalation was all the confirmation I needed to know she thought so too.