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I hug him tight, burrowing my face in his chest. I’ll make sure he’s not his father.
Even if it’s the last thing I do.
12
Lia
The next day, something keeps nagging at me.
I try ignoring it and pretend that it doesn’t exist, but my feet lead me back here, anyway.
What’s the point of burying my head in the sand? It only made my state worse and managed to push me off that cliff where I could’ve lost everything.
And I did, in a way.
I temporarily lost Jeremy and Adrian. I lost the life I’d been fighting tooth and nail to protect. I don’t care what I have to do to never end up on another literal—or metaphorical—cliff again.
You’re stronger than this, Lia.
My hand trembles on the doorknob as I slowly turn it and crack the door. But instead of going inside, I remain at the threshold, staring at the small opening through which a patch of the white wall is visible. The beeping sound of the machine beats down my chest and through my bones.
I’d hoped Boris would stop me from going into the guest house, or that Kolya would magically appear by my side and tell me in his monotone voice that “the boss ordered me to stay away.”
None of that happened.
Instead, Boris stepped aside, not bothering to stop me. After the heart-to-heart I had with Adrian last night, I can tell he’s giving me more leeway. He’s not the type of man who gives second chances, as Yan likes to remind me, so I’m grateful that he’s trying, that he’s taking a different path that doesn’t include punishing or bestowing me with his neglectful silent treatment.
I’m not an idiot. I know that Adrian’s newfound trust is fragile at best. If I show any sign of siding with Luca—or anyone aside from him—his wrath will be the most dangerous I’ve ever witnessed.
And because he’s trying, in his own way, I need to do the same. In order to get rid of my visceral nightmares, I have to take care of the source. Namely, the woman lying in bed.
Since it’s nighttime, there’s a soft light in her plain room that looks right out of a hospital. The nurse probably keeps the light on for when she comes to check on her. I noticed her leaving the building earlier and that’s when I gathered my courage and came here right after I put Jeremy to bed.
I leave the door ajar as I approach the bed on which Winter sleeps. Her eyes are closed this time, but her skin is less pale, a bit flushed, as if blood is pumping harder in her veins.
One of her frail hands lies on her stomach and the other is by her side, an IV tube punctures her skin and is attached to a bag hung above her head.
I stare at the door to make sure it’s open and I’m not trapped here with her. She might be comatose, but she scares me. Maybe not like when I thought she was Lia and I’d stolen her husband, but the ominous feeling is still there.
It’s probably my stupid guilt.
“I’m so sorry, Winter,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this life. I shouldn’t have cut your free wings and forced you into this bed. I’m so…so sorry.”
I want to say more, to apologize more and make amends, but what’s the point? She’s motionless while I’m healthy.
Well…almost healthy.
After all, I paid for the sin I committed by living as her and losing my family, even if only for a while. Adrian also said that my abdomen scar is from when I fell from the cliff, not a birth scar as I believed in my other identity. I felt Winter’s loss so viscerally because deep down, I missed Jeremy to the point of madness.
I flop onto a chair by her bedside. “I’m sorry I put you through this, Winter.”
“She put herself through this.”
I lift my head to find my husband leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his developed chest and his long legs crossed at the ankles. He’s in black pants, a white shirt, and an open dark brown cashmere coat that reaches his knees.
He’s always dressed so simple yet so elegant.
He must’ve just finished working, because his office door was closed when I passed it earlier.
