“Your wife had the audacity to tell me what to do. She tried bossing me around. You need to punish her. She’s getting out of hand.”

“How?”

Mary pauses. Then, “She slapped me. Across the face.”

I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. That doesn’t sound like my sweet Sofiya, but maybe she’s acting out because I’m not there. “Fine. I’ll come back soon. Just … stay away from Sofiya in the meantime.”

“Gladly.”

I finish collecting my money and head back home. What I see surprises me—Sofiya is sitting on the floor in front of my office. “What happened between you and Mary?”

She scrambles to stand. “We … argued.”

“She said you slapped her.”

“What? No! She slapped me.” She points at her cheek. “She hit me hard enough to bruise. She was telling me I couldn’t stay in front of your office.”

I inhale deeply. Mary has been a good employee for me for years. Why would she do this now? “Did she really slap you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk to Mary. Make sure she knows never to do that again. But why would she do that?”

“She hates me,” Sofiya mumbles.

“You know, I don’t really have time for this. I left work to come back here to deal with this problem. I just want you and Mary to get along. I’m busy, Sofiya.”

“I didn’t call you, asking for you to come back home. Why does it sound like you’re blaming me?”

“Because you’re supposed to be my good girl. You shouldn’t be getting into fights with my staff.”

“Mary is my staff, too.” She pauses. “Unless … you don’t think I belong here. That I don’t have a claim to it.”

All the anger leaves me. “You do belong here. I brought you here because I want you here.”

“So, then, why are you pushing me away? Why are you not telling me about your son?”

I quickly turn away from her and head toward the kitchen. Sofiya follows. “I told you I wasn’t going to talk about my son. You know he existed. That he died. That’s it.”

“Is it because you don’t trust me?”

We enter the kitchen, where Mary is wiping the countertops. She smiles at me before continuing her work.

“You’re a good employee, Mary,” I say, ignoring Sofiya’s question. “So, how could you slap my wife across the face?”

All the color drains from Mary’s skin. “I … I said she slapped me.”

“Well, Sofiya said you slapped her.”

“She’s a liar,” Mary snaps.

“I am not a liar,” Sofiya snaps in return.

“Enough!” I say in a firm tone. Both women immediately go quiet. “I don’t have time to deal with this. I am a busy man.”

“I know,” Mary says. “That’s why I didn’t want Sofiya disturbing you.”

Sofiya scoffs but doesn’t say anything.

“See?” Mary points at her. “Attitude.”

“Enough,” I repeat, more calmly this time. “Just … stop. You two need to figure this out.” I turn to Sofiya. “I’m disappointed in you. I expect better from my wife.”

Sofiya looks stunned. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“We’ll deal with this later. For right now, I’m heading back out. Sofiya, pick out a dress for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“We’re going back out again. Now, I’m off.” I walk past Sofiya even as she opens her mouth to speak. I keep walking until I’m out the door.

SOFIYA

Hearing Mikhail tell me he was disappointed in me hurt worse than Mary’s slap. It hurt even more as I watched Mary smirk at me behind his back when he told me he was disappointed in me.

Now, I sit in our bedroom, ignoring my sisters as they try to talk to me. “Go away,” I say through the door.

Eventually, they leave me alone. They’re safe here. Boris can’t hurt them. They can figure out their own entertainment. Right now, for me, I’m too distracted thinking about what went down today.

All I wanted to do was tell Mikhail he could trust me. That I won’t see him as a monster. That I won’t judge him for whatever happened with his son. I just want to get to know him.

And then Mary happened, and now, Mikhail is disappointed because I was supposed to be better. I was supposed to be his good girl.

I’m trying so hard for Mikhail, and I feel like he doesn’t even see it. I can only give so much before breaking.

I don’t pick out a dress for tonight like Mikhail wants. It doesn’t seem I can do anything right. So, I just stay in the bedroom all day, only going out for food while ignoring Mary and my sisters, until Mikhail returns home.

He finds me sitting on the bed. “You’re not changed,” he says.

“I didn’t know what to wear.”

He stares at me for a moment before sighing and crouching down before me. “You’re upset.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”