Doctored Vows - Chapter 25

“You’ve reached Zoya. Leave a message.”

The pounding of my brain against my skull ruffles my exhale. “Z, it’s me. I really need to talk to you. Can you call me back?”

I wait to see if our call magically connects before I hit the end button and dump my phone onto my bed. I had no clue how spoiled I’ve been the past week. The sofa bed springs are nonexistent, and the bar in the middle dug into my back all night.

I hardly got any sleep. An hour, two at max. My head is throbbing, and my stomach won’t quit grumbling, but for some stupid reason, I’m more devastated about waking up in my apartment alone than anything.

It didn’t matter how late Maksim came to bed, I always knew when he arrived because, as per our agreement, he slept inside me every night.

There’s no denying how empty I feel this morning—both in my heart and between my legs.

I also couldn’t stop the photographs of Maksim’s childhood injuries from rolling through my head. They made me desperate to comfort him. My stubbornness just refused to listen to a single plea of my heart. It wants it to believe the events of our formative years don’t shape who we are as adults.

I know that isn’t true. I’m merely struggling to wrap my head around anything since I am operating on minimal sleep.

As I flop back onto my pillow, I throw a hand over my puffy eyes.

I honestly don’t know who I am anymore.

How can you miss a man society deems you should hate? I should be on one side of the fence or the other—good or bad—not straddling my morals like my indecisiveness won’t award me a nasty splinter. I just can’t force myself to pick, because I know neither choice will protect me from my worst nightmare coming true.

That’s all on my shoulders.

After a few minutes of silent ponderings that award me nothing more than more headaches, I throw off the bedding Ano left, then flop my legs off the sofa bed. My slow trudge to the shower mimics many I’ve undertaken over the past three years, but it feels different today. I feel like I’ve lost a limb, and the phantom pains are more tearing than the imaginary saw that hacked it off.

I’m halfway to the bathroom when my cell phone rings. Hopeful it is Zoya, I race back into the living room, snatch it up, and answer the call without looking at the screen.

“I am so glad you finally called me back. I’m dying here.”

The laughter I’m seeking isn’t close to youthful. “I doubt you’ll be saying that when you arrive.” Doctors being paged sound during Dr. Lipovsky’s brief intermission to catch her breath. “I hate to ask this since you’re not rostered on, but could you come in? We’re short-staffed and run off our feet.”

“It’s not a problem,” I reply, grateful for the distraction, confident it will make my guilt that I missed Maksim’s presence last night not as heavy. “I can be there in fifteen?”

My reply sounds like a question, so she responds as if it is. “That will be great. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

She farewells me before disconnecting our call.

With my head in lockdown mode, I rake my fingers through my hair, twist it back, and then secure it with an alligator clip. After replacing the scrubs I slept in with clean ones, I race for the exit, completely forgetting about the horde of media camped at the front of my building.

Questions are tossed at me as I throw my hands up to protect my eyes from live-streamed TV.

“Mrs. Ivanov, is it true Maksim was brought in for questioning last night?”

“Do you have a statement regarding the joint operation of Trudny and Myasnikov Police Departments?”

“How long were you and Maksim dating before you wed?”

I’m clutched at the side just as the cameras damaging my vision are shoved out of my face.

“Keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

Ano escorts me through the media so fast that I’m seated in the back of Maksim’s SUV before another question can be fired.

“Fucking move!” he yells when they circle the vehicle like sharks stalking their prey.

He honks two times and almost mows one media duo down when they block his exit of the valet section of my building before he finally makes it into the opening.

I don’t know whether to laugh or grimace when he connects his eyes with mine in the rearview mirror and says, “Still want to walk?”

Not eager to start a fight, I reply, “Seems like a nice day for a drive.”

He drags his eyes over the foggy conditions before smiling. “Seems that way.”

I last almost all the way to Myasnikov Private before my worry about the first question tossed at me is exposed. “Is Maksim okay?”

Ano holds my gaze in the rearview mirror for what feels like a lifetime before he loosens the pressure valve in my chest with a brief head nod. “Might take a few days to sort out the mess, though.” A tsk vibrates his lips. “The men you accused him in front of aren’t fans of false accusations.” I’m completely lost, but mercifully, he appears aware of that. “When you asked if he only married you so you couldn’t testify against him, you ruffled more than just Maksim’s feathers.”

My eyes pop as awareness smacks into me. “I didn’t realize they were law enforcement officers. The detectives yesterday made out they had already taken Maksim’s statement.”

Ano laughs. I have no clue what he thinks is funny. I am far from amused. “The men weren’t law enforcement.” He stops, pulls a face, then starts again. “Well, they kind of are, but not in the sense you’re thinking.” He flicks his eyes to the road for the quickest second before returning them to the mirror. “You good?”

I’d have given anything for a few more hours of sleep when he nudges his head to the building we’re parked next to. It is Myasnikov Private Hospital.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll buzz you when my shift ends.”

After farewelling Ano with a smile, I slip out of the back of the SUV and walk straight into pure chaos. There are more patients than beds, and every doctor on staff is rostered on, meaning the chances of me identifying the graffiti artist who vandalized my locker are poor.

Only two words are spray-painted across my locker door, but they’re hurtful enough for bile to race to the base of my throat.

Dr. Killer

After shoving my purse into my locker, I scrub at the thick red paint with the cuff of my scrubs. The slur doesn’t budge an inch. It remains as red as my cheeks when a familiar voice calls my name.

There’s no hiding the frustration on my face this time, so I don’t bother removing it before twisting to face the voice.

Dr. Sidorov takes one look at my burning cheeks and wet eyes before he demands the emptying of the locker room with two curt words. “Get out.”

Once it is devoid of snickering laughter, he stops next to me before asking, “Who did this?”

“I don’t know.” I lower the rudeness in my tone to a manageable level before saying, “It was like this when I arrived.” With my hurt higher than my morals, I ask, “Why didn’t you inform me Dr. Abdulov is missing?” I almost say dead, but once again, I can’t force my heart to admit to Maksim’s crimes, even with him and my head having no qualms about doing the same. “I only found out when I was bombarded by two detectives yesterday afternoon.”

He appears confused. I understand why when he says, “I was unaware of your involvement in his disappearance.”

“I’m not involved…” My words trail off when I follow the direction of his gaze. He is staring at my wedding rings, which calls me out as a bigger liar than my head. I hide them by folding my arms over my chest before saying, “I just thought you would have informed the hospital staff of his dea… disappearance.”

“It isn’t something that needs to be openly discussed right now. The authorities are looking into his disappearance, but that doesn’t mean it will be ruled foul play.” His eyes bounce between my sweaty top lip and my crinkled brow before he asks, “Is there something you need to disclose, Dr. Hoffman? You seem a little skittish.”

“I’m fine. I just…” My voice is full of a shame it doesn’t deserve to hold. “Can this wait? I-I should probably get out there. It’s pretty hectic.”

“I don’t see that being an issue.” Once again, the ease of his tone doesn’t match his pinched brows and soured expression. However, I’m too eager to skip his interrogation to investigate them further.

After ripping off my engagement and wedding rings responsible for my sloshy stomach and placing them next to the credit card that hasn’t budged an inch in almost a week, I make a beeline for the exit.

When I break into the corridor, I think I am in the clear of more controversy.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

Maksim’s absence was felt this morning, but I had no idea that was because he wasn’t home. He’s speaking with two of the bigwigs of Myasnikov Private, and his commanding aura is noticeable even from a distance.

My throat works through a stern swallow when he suddenly stops talking and cranks his neck my way. I consider running until I realize the only direction I can take is past him.

I’m in the open, so I am safe from being turned into putty by the hands and mouth of a genius, but you wouldn’t know that when Maksim’s eyes land on my empty ring finger.

He works his jaw side to side before he slowly, almost murderously so, returns his eyes to my face.

His unspoken demand for me to place my rings back on is heard over the constant page of doctors being requested at the ER, but when a code blue sounds from the same ward, I act as if I am blind.

I sprint past him along with a handful of doctors, sighing when he doesn’t stop me from doing the job I was destined to do.