The man just stares at me, ashen-faced and speechless.
Good. It’s long past time to dispel him of these stupid notions.
“She was not the shrinking violet you paint her as. She fought and she fought hard,” I say. “Had no reservations; she gave as good as she got. I’m no fool, Rodion—I’ve heard the rumors. I deny them all. I had no hand in Marina’s death. She did that herself.”
His mouth opens and closes for a few seconds before he finds his voice again. “She… she may have had secrets… but that does not mean she killed herself,” he says finally.
“I don’t think she meant to kill herself, Rodion,” I say calmly. “I think she was trying to get what she always wanted: attention.”
His eyes go wide, ready to resort to anger. But I stop him with a raise of my hand. “You can’t deny she loved causing a scene. She did it often.”
“I—”
“Your little girl wanted to get my attention. Maybe she wanted more of yours, too,” I shrug. “But she overplayed her hand just like I always knew she would. She got more than she bargained for. She got all the fucking attention she wanted and then some.”
Rodion bristles, rising in his seat. The cigar in his fingers trembles like a warning. “I will not sit here and—”
“Our families’ friendship has meant a lot to me, Rodion,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to destroy what my father built. I’d like to carry it forward. But first comes accepting the truth about your daughter. I did not kill her. The people who started that rumor only seek to benefit from divided loyalties. Surely you can see that?”
Rodion falls silent for a moment. I can see him contemplating his choices.
And I can see him coming to the realization that he doesn’t have many.
He’s not happy about it, but he nods anyway. “There was never a question about it, Anton,” he says. “The Stepanovs and the Ivanovs are brothers-in-arms.”
I return the fake smile he’s giving me. “My thoughts exactly.”