The manor comes into view. Iron gates part as we approach. I park and kill the engine. Olivia’s out of the Jeep before I can come around to help her, stalking toward the front entrance with her shoulders squared. I catch up in a few strides, matching her pace.
“Olivia, we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing more to talk about.” She pushes through the front door and makes straight for the stairs. “I’m going to my room. Or is that not allowed anymore?”
“Of course it’s allowed.”
“Good.” She pauses on the first step, one hand on the banister. “Then that’s where I’ll be. Locked in. Away from you.”
She climbs the stairs without looking back. I watch her go, my jaw working, fighting the urge to follow her. To kick down whatever door she puts between us and make her listen.
But forcing her won’t fix this. It’ll only prove her right: that I’m the villain she’s starting to believe I am.
Her door slams shut upstairs. A moment later, I hear the lock click into place.
Taras appears from the kitchen, taking in my expression with a low whistle. “That bad?”
“Worse.”
“She knows about Natalia?”
“She knows everything.” I rake a hand through my hair. “And she’s not sure which one of us to believe.”
“Can you blame her?”
“Yes. No.” I head for my office, needing something to punch or break. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Well, figure it out.” Taras follows me. “Because if Natalia’s back in play, we’ve got bigger problems than relationship drama.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, you’re about to lose the one thing that actually matters.” He jerks his thumb toward the stairs. “That woman up there? She’s carrying your kid. She’s also the only person who’s ever made you give a shit about something.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that Natalia knows it, too. And she’s going to exploit every crack in your foundation until the whole thing comes down.” He leans against the doorframe. “So maybe start by telling Olivia the truth. All of it. Before your mother beats you to it.”
I want to argue. To tell him he’s wrong, that I have everything under control.
But the sound of Olivia’s lock clicking into place still rings in my ears, and for the first time in fifteen years, I’m not sure I can win this war.
Not without losing everything that matters.
8
OLIVIA
I manage to hold it together long enough to get inside and lock the door.
Then the tears come.
And when they come, they come in devastating waves, each one leaving me more exhausted than the last. They’re the kind of tears that start somewhere deep in your chest, building pressure until they explode outward in gasping, choking sobs that would mortify me if anyone could hear.
Especially ifStefancould hear.
So I press my face into the pillow, muffling the sounds that rack through my chest until my ribs ache, because the last thing I want, the last thing I could bear, would be if he overheard and tried to come comfort me.
I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to say no.
