She doesn’t argue, for once. She just follows me silently out of the ruins of my family home, preparing to get back hers.
9
MIA
The whole ride over to Brad’s, Yulian stays silent.
It makes me want to scream. He’s punishing me; I know that. After I bared my heart to him, after I came clean about it all, he’s still choosing silence.
He’s still choosing to be cold to me.
And yet, while he was holding me… he felt warm. Real. Like he did back then, before the secrets tore our lives apart.
I’m still shocked and reeling from the kidnapping, from Desya—all of it. I thought I was going to die. I thought my baby was going to die.
I thought I’d never see Eli again.
Which is why I need to put everything else out of my mind now.
The car pulls to a stop behind Brad’s mansion, next to the service door. It’s the only place that isn’t warded off by electronic gates, and therefore doesn’t require Brad’s passcode to enter. Just the key I stole off the maid six weeks ago.
I glance at the dashboard clock: 4:15 P.M. Eli should be on his way home. I’ve still got time.
Yulian unfastens his seatbelt, but I stop him. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “Brad never picks up Eli in person. He’ll still be at the gala. It’ll be faster if I just go in alone.”
He hesitates. I can tell he doesn’t want to let me go by myself.
“Please,” I add.
A curt nod. “Make it quick.”
Then I’m back into Brad’s mansion.
The smell is the same as always: new leather and bleach. It makes me sick to breathe it in. He lives so close to the ocean, and yet he refuses to let the breeze in.
I throw every window open in a fit of vengeance, then head upstairs.
I pack a quick getaway bag for Eli. He doesn’t have many things here—Brad was adamant that toys were, and I quote, “for pussies.” He splurged on a few collectibles and action figures for his son, but they were all characters Eli was unfamiliar with, from old comic books and movies. Didn’t play with them once. Honesty, I always thought Brad just wanted them for himself, but needed an excuse to justify the purchase.
I leave them on the shelf and grab two changes of clothes, Eli’s school books, and his nightlight.
I don’t pack a bag for myself. Everything in my room can burn for all I care.
By the time I’m done, my watch reads 4:25 P.M. In around five minutes, Andrew will pull up at the front gate. I should go meet him there, but I linger.
Brad’s studio is tucked at the end of the hallway. It’s the most private position in the house—couldn’t be more obvious he was hiding something.
What could you possibly get in five minutes?
“Everything,” I whisper.
Brad’s studio isn’t locked. Weird, but not unprecedented. He usually locks up at night, and if he’s too drunk, he’ll forget. And last night, he was pretty fucking out of it.
I head straight for the laptop. Until now, I’ve played it safe, only transferring a few files at a time on my flash drive. But now, I’ve got nothing left to lose.
So I might as well grab the whole thing, right?
When I touch it, the screen lights up. I know I’ll have plenty of time to look over the contents once I’m out of here, but for a second, curiosity gets the best of me.
