His jaw works once. “I heard rumors.”
Mama makes a sound of disbelief. “Rumors?”
“I didn’t know what Lev was going to do.”
“But you knew he wanted Vika,” I say.
Papa’s gaze settles on me. “Yes.”
Mama turns away from him, pressing her hand against the back of a chair. “My God.”
I stare at him. “And you said nothing?”
“I was handling it.”
I almost smile.
Handling it.
For a second, I can’t even breathe, as another realization comes to me. I look at him. “You don’t care which daughter he marries,” I say. “So long as you have your alliance.”
Mama’s face changes.
Papa stills.
The words hang there, ugly and honest.
I wait for him to deny it. I wait for outrage. For one flicker of fatherly injury.
Instead, he looks away.
My laugh comes out soft and broken. “God.”
“Katerina,” he says sternly.
“No.” I shake my head. “No, don’t use my name like that. Don’t make it sound like I’m being dramatic.”
“I had a lapse in judgment.”
I stare at him. A lapse? Seriously?
He’s treating this as if he misplaced a file. As if he misread a contract. As if I’m not standing here with a bare finger and a ruined engagement because the men in my life weighed me against convenience and found me flexible.
“A lapse in judgment?” Mama says, her voice thin with disbelief. “Your daughter has been betrayed under your nose, and that’s what you call it?”
Papa’s mouth tightens. “I was trying to contain the situation.”
“You mean me?” I say drily.
His gaze returns to mine.
For the first time, something like pain crosses his face. It’s brief. Controlled. And almost insulting in how quickly he buries it.
“You’re my daughter.”
“Then you should have acted like it before tonight.”
He takes that without flinching, which somehow makes it worse.
