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Asher’s nudge is basically telling me I need to start soon because Alex is getting restless.
He sits behind his huge mahogany desk that’s crowded with endless paperwork. I don’t even know what his use is for all that at home.
“Reina,” he starts. “You mentioned wanting to talk to me? We can do this after I return.”
“I remember a few things,” I say, calmly but loud enough for him to hear me.
Alex grabs a retractable pen from the desk and stops checking his watch. “Go on.”
“I remember a twin sister and a mother and how we ran away in my childhood. As for that night, I think I was attacked after I reunited with my sister.”
Silence.
Alex continues watching me as if he’s deciding whether or not he can erase those memories from my brain all over again.
“Did you tell her anything?” Alex’s question is directed to his son. His voice hardens when he speaks to Asher, like he’s talking to a mortal enemy, not his flesh and blood.
“I know nothing to tell,” Asher says casually.
My gaze bounces between father and son as I try to make sense of their words. Asher knows something?
I tighten my hands in my lap, my nails digging into the skin of my palms. “Can anyone tell me what’s going on?”
“I suppose you should know.” Alex sighs. “Ignorance never did you any good before.”
No, it wasn’t ignorance. Even if Dad and Alex hid the truth from me, I think I knew it deep down. That’s why I searched for Reina and found her on my own. I meant to escape with her.
That’s not something an ignorant person would do.
“Your mother was the bratva’s Pakhan’s daughter. Mia Sokolov, daughter of Nikolai Sokolov and cousin of Ivan Sokolov.”
Those names are familiar.
O
h my God.
They can’t possibly be…
“They’re big names in the states and in Russia.” Alex clicks his pen. “Gareth didn’t know about Mia’s origins when he got together with her more than two decades ago. She ran away from home and he just took her in. Of course, her father and cousin didn’t stop searching for her. She sullied the family’s name by running away. When they found out about her relationship with Gareth, they ordered their henchmen to kill your father.”
My lips part but no sound comes out.
“Mia and Gareth agreed to break it off for both their sakes. By that time, Mia was already pregnant with you and your sister. Your parents agreed that each would get a twin before they parted ways. Of course, Nikolai and Ivan weren’t having it. They only agreed to let Gareth keep one of the twins if he allowed the bratva a share in his business, and he agreed.”
A tremor shoots through my limbs at the thought of what my parents went through.
“And the other twin?” I gulp. “What happened to her?”
“Mia took her and ran, but Nikolai wanted the girl as his heir. Considering that Mia was the only offspring he had, her daughter needed to be brought up as the bratva’s princess.”
“And Mom didn’t want that.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement.
That’s why we were on the run for twelve years. The forged identities and the late-night escapes make sense now.
Mom didn’t want me to be the Russian mafia’s princess. She must’ve lived that role her entire life and couldn’t accept having her daughter go through that fate.
Her diligence and quick wit make sense, too. She knew their ways well enough to be able to escape them for twelve whole years.
