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"Yes," Alexander says. "You needed the rest."
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored vase sitting on the side table beside Alexander. I look a proper mess. Yellowing bruises all over my face, a huge bandage on my forehead, swollen lips. Even my hair is a matted, tangled mess. I swirl my tongue in my mouth. I’m missing a tooth too.
How I look triggers memories of the ordeal I just survived.
Wejust survived.
"The baby?"
My eyes flick to his, desperate for some good news.
Alexander nods.
"The baby's fine," he breathes, and it's like a weight lifts off my shoulders. I smile, even though it hurts like a bitch.
"Thank you so much for saving me," I whisper. "You were all I could think about. I was so scared, Alexander."
He takes my hand in his.
"It should never have happened, sweetheart." He presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. Even they are bruised, though I can't remember how. "I failed you. I really should be asking you for your forgiveness. I was supposed to protect you. You could've—"
I cut him off. "I don't blame you for anything that happened."
He stops in his tracks.
And in his eyes, I see a little bit of the part of himself he always tries to hide from me. The part that thinks he's responsible for the wellbeing of every single person he cares about. The part that obsesses over the details so nothing ever goes wrong. The part desperate to make up for his self-assessed cowardice all those years ago.
"You couldn't have known." He doesn't really believe what I'm saying, but I say it anyway. "I was scared, but I always knew you would find me. This wasn't your fault. It was my father's."
Alexander narrows his eyes a bit, like he expected me to say something else. "Your father's the reason why Laurent kidnapped you?"
I nod.
And even though just hearing his name is triggering for me, I feel like I need to talk about this. I haven't had the chance to process any of the absolute madness that transpired, and Alexander is the only person in the world who could possibly understand.
It's like he can sense just how I'm feeling, for he starts to massage my palm. "You don't have to talk about this now if it's too much."
"I want to talk about it," I tell him. "I'm just figuring out where to start."
Alexander is solemn, turning his attention to my wrists, my forearm. Something flashes on his face, then he's rooting in the breast pocket of his rumpled suit.
He slips my engagement ring back on my finger.
I hadn't realized how much I missed it. I trail a finger over the huge diamond, composing myself as it glimmers beneath the bright lights.
"Laurent kidnapped me to get back at my father. The attack on the estate. Sending me to SFU knowing I was breaking the Peace Treaty. It was all to get back at my father." I suck in a shaky breath.
Alexander is shocked, but not entirely surprised.
"Who did he love that your father killed?"
His question is so loaded, and so true.
Because that's all Michel Moreau ever manages to do.
"He killed Laurent's lover." My throat grows impossibly thick. "My mother."
Alexander's jaw drops, but I keep talking just to get it all out.
