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She turns and faces me. It almost appears as if she wants to say something but doesn’t have the words. “I’m fine. I should check on Niko. He’s probably awake…”
“It’s not your fault.” I turn to look at Viktor, my reassurer. “We all missed it.”
“It’s my job not to miss anything. I’ve been distracted because of Diana.” I glance back at the road. “Deep down, a part of me knows she’s telling the truth about Ava being my sister.”
“She is. You have the same biological mother.”
I stare at him, confused. “What makes you so sure?”
“I confirmed it with a DNA test. I was waiting for the results to come in before I told you. They came this morning.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you did a DNA test.”
“A strange woman came searching for you with dangerous allegations. Of course, I was going to verify her claims.”
“This is so fucked up.”
Viktor’s cell rings, interrupting us.
“Yes. Text me.” He ends the call.
“What is it?”
Hope trickles into my veins when he replies, “Angus found a few addresses to check if Grace isn’t home.”
“Is Ava awake yet?”
His jaw tightens. “No. We still have time.”
Time is a funny thing. You think you have a lot of it, but in reality, you don’t. Ava is my sister, and the DNA confirmation means everything makes sense. The pull I often felt toward her, my need to protect her from everything, including Viktor. All the shit she’s been through could have been avoided if I had been there to protect her. She didn’t have to live the life she had.
Diana robbed us of so much. Not just of a mother, but of me being a big brother to Ava—to protect her. I would’ve made many different choices if I knew she was my sister.
I stop internally battling with myself when we reach Grace’s apartment building. This place gives the aura of a high price tag. The rent in this building wouldn’t be covered by a nanny’s salary, no matter how much Viktor is paying her.
Viktor peers at me, clearly thinking the same thing.
Who the fuck is Grace? And how the hell did she manage to intrude into our lives unnoticed?
“Viktor, who found Grace?” I ask.
His brows pull together. “I thought you did.”
“No,” I shake my head.
We get out of the SUV and walk to the building. We’re met by a doorman. “Good afternoon, gentleman. How can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Grace Sanders.”
“Let me call her,” the doorman replies, his tone friendly.
“No need. She’s expecting us.” Viktor passes the doorman with an air of authority.
“Sir,” the doorman calls out.
Viktor doesn’t stop, and I follow him. We enter the elevator. According to our records, Grace lives on the fifth floor. Out of habit, Viktor scans both ways before he exits the elevator.
“Her apartment should be the third door on the left.”
