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“I don’t think Ivan ever believed her suspicions.” He frowns and then shakes his head. “No. He would have killed me if he knew. But Marnie grew more devious. The time came when I knew she would run off with him and my—the Winthorp money.”
“So you tricked her,” I say. “Vanya thought she went back willingly, but that wasn’t the case.”
He nods as if finally admitting it all is freeing to him. Cathartic. “I promised her Briar. Then I told Ivan she left.” The wry twist to his mouth could be guilt. Or smug satisfaction. “It broke his heart, but it had to be done—”
“All so that you could maintain power.”
“For the good of the Vasilev name,” he growls, his voice booming. “Ivan was too worried about sticking his cock in a pretty woman and siring more children. ButIhad the mantle of themafiyaon my shoulders. I had our family name on my shoulders—”
“But you abandoned your own family,” I hiss. “She told you about me. Didn’t she?”
“She tried to reach Ivan,” he says. “I managed to intercept her messages, though I don’t think she realized that. She pleaded for him to come for her. Then she primarily pleaded for you. In her words, even if he didn’t love her…” He laughs again. “She begged him to take you.”
My eyes burn, watering as I imagine Marnie. Her face. The pained way she looked at me. How she held me the few times she could. My pathetic, faithfully acknowledged birthdays…
All this time, I thought I was the source of her pain—but I wasn’t.
Her heart broke forme.
“You made her think Vanya abandoned her,” I say thickly. “And you left her to rot.”
“I did what was best for Ivan.” But from the grit in his tone, I doubt he believes that lie himself. “The fool would have gotten himself killed. Besides, he had Anna-Natalia—”
“Until she was taken,” I point out. “But rather than rescuing her, you went after a child.” A sudden thought churns my stomach. “Was hurting Marnie your real intention for wanting to kill Briar? Punishing her?”
“Are you really that naïve?” His eyes flicker and I instinctively take a step back. For the first time, the true Sergei Vasilev peeks from beneath his charming mask. Not a vengeful brute like Mischa, but something far more dangerous.
A cold, calculating tactician content to wait years to see his plans bear fruit.
No matter the cost.
“We spun Marnie’s little excursion to our own benefit, but Winthorp retaliated much harder than I expected. I’m sure Mischa told you about what happened to his family? Imagine countless more gruesome tales, and widows, and pain. Not to mention what we thought happened to Anna.”
“You saw my mother that night, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he says. “And knowing what I do now, I should have spit in her face.”
“You’re a monster! She learned better than to trust you. In her eyes, Anna was better locked in a Winthorp dungeon than anywhere near you—”
I don’t even see the slap; it happens so fast. Then I blink, realizing I’m on my knees and Sergei is standing above me.
“I see you are like your mother in more ways than one. Eric!” He raises his voice and a man appears in the doorway. The one with the serpent tattoo. “Miss Winthorp is tired,” Sergei says, waving a dismissive hand in my direction. “Please show her to her room.”
The man approaches me and grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet. As he steers me to the door, I look back at Sergei. “Are you going to give me back to Robert?”
It’s my obvious fate: With Eli under his control, he no longer needs me.
“No,” he says. “But I willsellyou back to him. Long enough to serve as a distraction while I put the pieces into play to obliterate his standing completely. Mischa wasn’t as stupid as he pretended to be, but he was a fool,” Sergei says. “He didn’t realize that men like the Winthorps can’t simply be butchered out of existence. With their money and prestige, it takes a slow, methodical approach to ensure their demise. I need to infest his holdings from the inside out and crumble the house of cards from the very foundation.”
In some ways, it’s a more gruesome end for Robert than a bullet would be.
“So what now?”
For a second, I think he won’t tell me as his man drags me over the threshold. Then he holds his hand up and the man stops.
“I’ll tell him that Mischa flew into a rage and killed the boy. I can offer you to him—for a price. And while he enjoys you in your current condition, I will solidify my alliances and then burn the manor to the ground when he least expects it.”
Presumably with both Robert and me inside it.
Swallowing hard, I ask, “And Eli?”
“I’ll ensure that he remains the sole inheritor of the Winthorp estate,” he says. “Then I’ll train the boy to take his rightful place as my successor. Maybe that will give you solace. He’ll learn the Vasilev way, just as I did. Goodnight, Ellen.”
The man, Eric, ushers me up the stairs and into my room. Once the door closes, I hear the lock engage.
And I can’t help wondering if, before he sent her back to the Winthorps, Sergei made this room my mother’s prison as well.
