And that had led to what Kovalov mentally called the grand convening of the wives. It must be understood, first, that ex-wife Adele and present-wife Ivana absolutely hated each other. Given an advance presidential pardon and a loaded pistol, each would murder the other without a second’s reflection. But what had united them was their love for Magna, since Magna was born of Adele but taken care of daily by Ivana. It was Ivana’s voice that was the stronger of the two. How much do you love your daughter, Sergei? When he’d stated he would do anything for her, Ivana had looked into his eyes with that penetrating look of hers that seemingly could see all the way through him to his back collar and said, Do you love her enough to hit her? When he looked confused, Adele had joined in, saying If she keeps on like this, she’ll be in a coffin inside a year. Do you love your daughter enough to beat her to get her attention? He’d protested that he could never raise a hand to her, but then Ivana doubled down. We can’t do it. We’re mothers. We’re there to nurture. Shoulders to cry on. You’re the father. You’re the man. So step up and act like a man. You have to beat her. Hard. When he had argued that there was no way he could convincingly beat his daughter physically, that he couldn’t be an actor, that it would be all over his face that he was reluctant, not angry, the wives had stepped closer to him, pelting him with that weaponized question, How much do you love your daughter? He had shut his eyes for five seconds and thought about it. All Magna’s life, he had been a gentle father, if anything, being the one who comforted her when she was angry at Adele or Ivana. Magna had always been a daddy’s girl, with him as her best friend. There simply was nothing he would not do for his beloved daughter. He’d take a bullet for her. He’d willingly give her both kidneys. And then life had come for him and made this terrible demand. The promiscuity and the drugs, the police had said, all lead to only one future for the girl — she will be found lying in an alley, naked, with needles in her veins, fading away into death or already dead.
How much do you love your daughter,Sergei? Do you love her enough to hit her?
Finally, he had looked at the wives and sadly nodded. “I will do as you ask.”
The opportunity had come that weekend while Magna was grounded and against her will was in the truck with Kovalov driving. He started in on her, that her behavior must immediately change. He calculated it would provoke her into cursing at him, and he was correct.
Fuck you, Dad!
As it turned out, feigning anger had not been required. Magna, his adorable little girl, had turned into a possessed demon. Fuck you, Dad! Fuck you fuck you fuck you—and he’d felt the anger rise in him, and instead of taming it as he would normally have done, he gave in to it. He made a fist and furiously punched her so hard on the side of her face that her head hit the passenger window, shattering it, glass flying around the car, blood running down her face, and the sound of her pitiful shocked and horrified shrieks sounded like a mortally wounded animal. How much do you love your daughter, Sergei? He’d turned the vehicle around and sped her to a clinic, where her scalp beneath her hair had needed a dozen stitches and a large bandage. They’d checked her for a concussion, but other than the cut and the emotional trauma from the punch, she was fine.
But there was nothing fine between him and Magna after that. On returning home with the girl sobbing, half her head shaved, a huge bandage wrapped around her head, both Ivana and Adele had waited for him, both of them in on this little conspiracy, but both had acted shocked and horrified that he had dared to lay his hands on Magna. How could you? They shot murderous glaring looks at him and shepherded Magna to her room in the back of the apartment. He could hear the wives’ low voices comforting her and her wailing loudly, barely able to be calmed. When the wives emerged from her room, their eyes were red and swollen from crying.
“You have to apologize to her,” Ivana said.
“What?” he’d said, not believing his ears. “You put me up to this—“
“Shhh!” Ivana hissed. “Never ever mention that this was a plan. This was just something that happened. You got mad and lost your temper. You got that?”
