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“No, you don’t get to say sorry. You killed them. All of them. You and Viktor were my monsters.”
“I am truly sorry, Anastasia. I can’t take back the past, but please know I love you.”
He looks like he really believes that. Part of me believes it, too, but I no longer care how he feels. What I want is the truth. The rest of it. All the parts I don’t know.
“If you love me, tell me what happened. Tell me how this happened. How did a woman like Mira become so evil? What the hell were you guys planning?”
“She was always evil. Always. But so was I. That’s why this is happening.” He drags his knees up to his chest, looking like he’s aged by a hundred years in just those few seconds. “I take it you know the majority of things.”
“Yes. I know what happened to my family, and I know how my accident occurred. I know what you did to Desmier and his mother, and I know the vineyard is really a billion-dollar oil company. What I don’t know is how you could be this evil. And what happened to the real Anastasia?”
More tears flow down his cheeks, and I swear I’ve never seen a person look more broken. “She… died.”
Despite my turmoil, a wave of sadness hits me. In my heart I knew death had to be the answer because it always is. But I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
“How did she die?”
“She drowned.” He drags in a deep breath and continues. “As a Sidorov, I was never going to have the chance to climb the ranks in the Bratva. Mira gave me a way to do so when I started doing her dirty work. The mission that defined me and set me up for life was killing Desmier’s mother. That was how I first got close to the Volkovas and how the marriage contract first came about. When Mira wanted to secure her marriage and prosperity, I gave her that. Then, when we found out the vineyard had oil, it was everything to her and a way for me to get a ownership of it. She pumped the money in to set up the company and kept it a secret. She knew if she could get her hands on the ownership, even through her son, it would be a done deal. He would have half, and so would I, providing it was given to me, then I’d give him forty percent more of the ownership. It didn’t matter who was killed or hurt to achieve the goal because to Mira, it was worth it.”
“So, when the real Anastasia died, that threw out all the plans.” My voice is barely audible.
“Yes.”
“Then you met me and my family?”
“Yes. Everyone was in Russia that year for the entire summer on a business trip. The Volkovas, the Sidorovs, and a few other families. We stayed at the same resort. While the men were working, the wives and children hung out. My Anastasia found a little girl who looked just like her. That was you, and it was how we first met the Butyrskayas. The two of you were always together. People thought you were twins, and you pretended to be sisters.”
He pauses for a moment, giving me a chance to think through his words. It’s devastating to hear these memories and not remember even a little part of it.
“It was so strange how you looked like her. The only differences were that my Anastasia had a little mole on her cheek, and her eyes were a slightly darker shade to yours. The differences were so minute no one ever guessed you weren’t her.” He swallows hard. “At the end of the summer, the day before we were scheduled to go home, Vittoria was looking after the two of you while you played hide and seek in the woods. She lost track of Anastasia, and we couldn’t find her. We searched everywhere, knowing something terrible must have happened. The next morning, Mira found her washed up on the riverbank. Dead. She drowned.”
“I’m… so sorry.” My voice chokes. “Was… that my fault?”
“No. Of course not. But I blamed Vittoria for not watching her properly, and after all this time, I still blame her.”
I remember how he killed her. It was with vengeance and rage. Like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her and rip her apart.
“She was beside herself with grief for her carelessness, but your mother—my wife—lost her mind that day.” He straightens and pulls in a measured breath. “I lost my sanity, too. I was already a ruthless bastard. But in my grief, I didn’t think twice when Mira came up with the idea to take you. I wasn’t even thinking straight when she told me to bury my daughter in Russia and keep it a secret. She didn’t even have a proper funeral.”
My heart aches as I listen to him telling me everything.
“I didn’t want the oil company to go to charity either, or lose out on the partnership with the Volkovas, but most of all, I wanted my daughter back.” He intensifies his stare. “When the Butyrskayas returned to the States, I tracked them down. Mira set up the entire operation and even got Evgeni to agree to me staying in the States. But I took the lead, and your accident just made things easier. Although you nearly died, Mira saw it as luck that you didn’t remember anything, and she made sure you stayed that way.”
A chill rushes over me. “What do you mean? What did she do to me?”
“Even though she wasn’t ethically allowed to be your therapist, she gave you medication to stop you from remembering.”
I cover my mouth, holding in the wave of shock that’s ripping me apart. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Only God knows how hard I tried to remember, but I was never going to be able to because Mira was suppressing my memories with medication. I was such a fool to believe she was the person she portrayed to be. She was never the fucking motherly figure. All along, she was my enemy.
“You allowed her to do that to me.”
“I had no choice. She did everything she could to control our lives and make sure you didn’t remember what happened. But the nightmares were always a worry even when they went away.”
“She told me it was my brain’s way of trying to remember.”
“It was, and we feared you’d see something to trigger those memories. Or you’d just remember everything by some miracle. The whole thing tormented your mother every day.”
“Is that why she took her life?” She might not have been my real mother, but she was to me.
