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I see how he looks at her.
I see it.
My daughter.
Hisniece.
Lately I’ve started to wonder if there’s something in her expression when she looks at him, and it makes my chest so tight I can’t breathe. I won’t believe that Zenya wants Kristian in the way a woman wants a man. I refuse to even entertain the idea. If anything twisted is going on, it’s all on Kristian’s side, and I have to put a stop to it.
“What did you just take from her dresser?” I demand.
Kristian says nothing.
I want him to fight me. Insult me or try to strike me down so I can send him away, but he doesn’t do anything but stare at me with pity in his blue eyes.
His pity burns like acid.
I draw myself up as tall as I can. Stealing from Zenya now, is he? “You only returned for my money and power and you think you can get your hands on it through my daughter. If you’re thieving from her, you’re thieving from me as well. You can get out of my house. You’re no longer welcome here. You can leave this city and never come back.”
Murder is blazing in Kristian’s eyes. My heart races in my chest, certain I’m about to die at my brother’s hands. But then he sweeps around me without a word, and a moment later, I hear him descending the stairs at a rapid pace.
When the front door slams, I stagger and grab the doorframe. I picture Zenya’s heartbroken expression and hear her voice, but she’s not asking me how Kristian could abandon her. She’s begging to know how I could banish him. Why I drove my brother away yet again with my selfish pride and jealousy when he’s the one she needs, not me.
The house is silent, and I feel the loneliness of failure seeping into my walking corpse.
14
Zenya
The sound of the front door lock clicking into place is like a shot ringing out in the dead of night. The house is silent and I lean against the front door.
It’s only been a handful of hours since I found out I’m pregnant. I went for a walk so I could think how best to handle this. I have to tell Kristian. I have to tellsomeone. The pressure is building higher and higher inside me.
“Zenya, is that you?” Dad’s shuffling along the landing, and I rush upstairs and help him to descend, carrying his oxygen bottle for him.
“We need to put you in a bedroom on the ground floor,” I tell him, but he shakes his head.
“I like my own room. I don’t want to move.” He studies my face with concern in his washed-out eyes. “Is something worrying you, Zenya?”
I help him sit down on the sofa in the living room, my mind racing. I need to tell Dad, but the first person to know should be the father.
“Let me just talk to Kristian.” I take out my phone and call him. He just about always answers by the second ring, but this time it goes to voicemail, twice. I frown and put my phone on the coffee table. “He’s not answering.”
When I look up, Dad’s got a strange expression on his face. Carefully blank, like he’s shielding some strong emotions, and apprehension trickles down my spine.
“Do you know where Kristian is?
“I have no idea.” But he doesn’t say it like he’s mystified. He says it with satisfaction.
“What happened? Did you and Kristian have a fight?”
“Why is he Kristian all of a sudden? You always called him Uncle Kristian.”
Dad’s deflecting, and I feel my blood pressure spike. “Dad. What’s happened between you and Kristian?”
Dad’s expression turns mulish. “He was here a few hours ago. I sent him away again.”
“Why, because I wasn’t here?” I ask with a puzzled frown.
