Page 134 of Betrayal and Vows

My hand covers his that is resting on the box. “Or you can wait.”

He takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself for what might be inside.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

He lifts the lid. I hear him suck in a breath.

Inside, there are letters tied with a single ribbon, photographs and a small crocheted angel missing one wing. There’s a broken music box shaped like a swan, a lock of baby hair sealed in glass, and an envelope.

It’s addressed in neat, looping Russian script:To Elena’s Daughter.

Anton sucks in a breath beside me.

“Me?” I whisper the question aloud.

I don’t understand.

Anton looks just as confused as I am.

He lifts it and turns it over a couple of times. “Your mother. She did this.”

Was my mother playing games?

No.

She loved me. I know she does.

“Can I?” I ask.

He gives it to me.

My fingers tremble as I open it.

If you’re reading this, then Alexei found you. As I always knew he would. Our children were bonded before they were born. Love my boy. He will always love you.

Irina.

“I don’t understand,” I say. I look at Anton. “How old are you?”

Did he lie to me? How could this woman know about me? She would have died long before I was born.

“Thirty-five,” he answers.

“I don’t understand.” It’s the only thing I can say.

Anton reaches for another letter. It’s addressed to him. I recognize the handwriting.

“My mother,” I say. “She wrote that.”

He shakes his head and hands it to me. “I can’t.”

I understand. He’s staring at a photo of his mother. She’s young. Beautiful. Anton is sitting on her lap, his little pudgy hand on her face. The two of them are staring at each other in a way that only mothers and sons do.

It’s every little boy’s first love.

My heart breaks for that little boy that didn’t grow up with his mother’s love wrapped around him. Protecting him from the life he was forced into.

I clear my throat, tamping down the emotion bubbling up. I want nothing more than to wrap this man in my arms, hold him close and never let him go.