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Yasha’s laugh is one and the same.
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to shove out the memory.
“What about you, Emery?” Yasha inquires. “Is there anything you want to share about married life?”
I look up at him. The room swims.
Adrik is smiling at me, but the longer I look at him, the more the corners of his mouth seem to tilt. The expression becomes sinister.
And I’m suddenly convinced Adrik knows what his brother did to me.
Maybe it was a coincidence that I showed up at his house that night with Malcolm Waters. But everything after that? The proposal and the way Adrik has been so sweet to Isabella? It never made sense to me. This would put everything into perspective.
He knows. He fucking knows.
The night I met Adrik and he took me back to his office, his brother knocked on the door. Adrik left me alone for a long time, and when he came back, he proposed.
Maybe Yasha recognized me. Maybe he told Adrik what happened. And… shit, I don’t know, Adrik wants to take care of his family in a non-villainous kind of way.
That’s the nice version of things.
Then there’s the other version.
The one where this is all a ploy to snatch away Isabella and cause me maximum damage in the process. She’s his blood, after all. He's taken her from me before.
I take a deep, shuddering breath. Breathe, Em. I don’t know anything for certain yet.
“Emery?” Adrik presses, leaning forward.
I force a smile on my face and stand up. “I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy day, and… I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to give Isabella her medicine.”
Yasha and Veronika both look concerned. They don’t look like monsters. Adrik doesn’t look like someone capable of—
“Oh no!” Veronika says, looking over at Isabella. “Is the little princess not feeling well?”
I wave away her concern. “She’s fine. I just have to keep to the schedule. Would you all excuse us?”
Isabella is wide-eyed as she looks from Adrik to Yasha and Veronika. The girl loves a party. She’s in her fancy dress, about to eat food and cake. Of course she doesn’t want to leave.
“We can do the medicine here,” she protests. “You bring it and I’ll wait.”
I shake my head. “No. You come with me. We’ll be right back.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I lean in, voice low. “I need you to come with me. No arguments, okay?”
I try to sound light, normal, the same as I did when we were negotiating about dessert earlier.
But I also need Isabella to know that now is not the time to argue. I try to imbue my words with some sense of the gravity I’m feeling.
Because if Isabella and I don’t leave this room together, part of me feels like I’ll never see her again.
Isabella’s shoulders sag. “Fine.”
She reverses away from the table. I barely resist the urge to grab hold of the handles and sprint out of the room.
“We’ll be right back.”
I can’t even look Adrik in the eyes. If I do, he’ll see the truth. He’ll see the panic in my eyes, and he’ll stop me before I can—
I don’t even know what I’m going to do.
As soon as we’re in the hallway, I feel like I can breathe a little better. But I hesitate.
A right will take us upstairs to our rooms.
A left towards the front doors—and freedom.
“Why are you standing still, Mama?” Isabella asks. “You’re like a statue.”
I turn around and look at her. Her wide blue eyes are looking back at me. Innocent, curious, pure.
It’s so easy to see the features she shares with the Tasarovs now. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize. But then again, I never thought—I never would have imagined—
All I see when I look at her is Isabella. My Isabella.
Mine, not his.
Since the moment she was born, she has been the most beautiful thing in the world to me. The sweetest soul I would die to protect.
And no one is going to take her away.
I bend down and kiss her forehead. “I forgot where I was going.”
“I already took my medicine,” she says. “The pink stuff the doctor gave me didn’t taste like bubblegum. It was yucky. I don’t want any more.”
“You don’t have to take any more of that,” I tell her. “Just come with me, okay? Everything will be fine.”
I take a deep breath, hoping I’m not lying to her.
Then I turn left.
Towards the front doors, and away from my fake husband.
Towards freedom, and away from the monster who raped me.
