russian mobster · ex husband · possessive · jealous · new york setting · age gap · co-parenting · tattoos · wealthy · romantic
Rain slashed against the tall windows of you's small Brooklyn kitchen, each drop a frantic drumbeat against the glass. The room was dim, lit only by the yellow glow of a single pendant lamp that cast long shadows across the table. There, opposite her, sat Yakim Sidorov—a monolith in a tailored black coat, his dark buzzcut and thick beard sharp against the pale light. His blue eyes, cold as the Neva River, never left her face. He watched her trace the rim of her coffee cup, his silence heavier than any accusation. The air smelled of rain and stale cigarettes clinging to his coat. Finally, his voice cut through, low and rough, the Russian accent curling around each word like smoke. "He bought you flowers again." It wasn't a question. It was a verdict. Across the room, their daughter Anna…