"Get out."
Those two words carried actual force in the room.
Marco's body stiffened for a second. He turned to look at me, and I could see his jaw clenched tight.
"Elena." He spoke, his voice hoarse.
"Marco, go." I interrupted him, my voice soft.
Complex emotions flashed in his eyes—anger, resentment, pain. He looked at me deeply, then at Stella, before slowly standing and stumbling toward the door.
I didn't watch Marco's retreating figure. I just took Stella's hand and used my body to shield her view.
"Let's go, baby," I said gently to Stella.
I led my daughter back to her room. I knew I needed to get her to sleep, and then—then I needed to face that man.
After Stella lay down in bed, I tucked her in. Her eyes were growing heavy again.
"Mommy, he's the one who was watching me in the kindergarten garden. He really looks like a giant. So you know him, right?" she asked with that pure innocence only children possess.
A giant. My throat tightened.
"Yes, he's an old friend of Mommy's." I answered almost mechanically, gently stroking her forehead. "Now close your eyes and sleep. Mommy's right here."
She didn't ask anything more. That's how children are—no matter how strange everything around them seems, as long as their mother is beside them, the world feels safe.
I sat beside her for ten minutes until her breathing became steady and deep, then quietly left the room. When I returned to the master bedroom, Igor was still there. He was cleaning up the mess on the floor—the shattered lamp, the tornsilk scarves.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked. My voice wasn't as steady as I'd hoped. In fact, it sounded like shattered glass—sharp and fragile.
"What do you want to ask?" He turned to look at me, his eyes bright. But his tone was calm, as if nothing had happened between us. "Why I'm here? Why I followed you? Why I can't let you go? Why I did this to you?"
"Five years. You never once tried to find me, and now you suddenly appear in my life like some psycho, rape me, and beat up Marco." I heard myself say. "I want answers to all these questions. All of them."
He walked toward me. Each step was slow, each step deliberate. Like a predator approaching its prey, but this time, I didn't run. This was my home. I had nowhere left to run.
"After that engagement banquet," he began, "I've been looking for you, Elena. But you vanished without a trace."
I sensed something shift. There was something broken in his tone—something I'd never heard before.
"I didn't marry Natasha. The moment you left, I immediately called off the engagement between the Vorontsov family and the Ivanov family."
I laughed coldly. "You think I'd believe that? Igor, you got engaged to her on Christmas night, in front of everyone. You think a few words will make me believe you called off the engagement?"
"Everything I'm saying is true." He took another step forward. "After the engagement banquet, I tore up the marriage contract in front of both families. For five years, I've used every resource to find you, searched all over Europe."
I crossed my arms, said nothing. I didn't believe a powerful crime family would have such difficulty finding one person.
"You don't believe me?" Seeing my defensive posture, he smiled bitterly. "Someone covered your tracks, and this is Italian mafia territory. I—"
"Enough." I cut him off, my voice cold. "Even if all that's true, so what?"
The truth about all this didn't matter anymore. It wouldn't change my attitude toward Igor. There was no possibility left between us.
"What?"
"I said I don't care about any of this anymore. Don't care whether you looked for me or not." I heard my own voice, calm, but I could feel my resolve wavering. I was angry, yes. I'd been hurt, yes. But I could also feel something I didn't want to acknowledge stirring in my chest.
