“Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we confront her,” Dad says, and his tone makes it clear the decision is final. “We sit through the meal and let her think everything is normal, and then we ask her to explain every lie she’s told us since she walked through our door. We get the full truth about Robert and Volkov and whatever plan they had for us. And then we decide what happens next.”
“What do you think should happen?” Kai asks, and there’s something dangerous in his voice.
Dad’s expression hardens into something cold and unforgiving. “I think we make her understand what it means to betray this family. I think we show her that she belongs to us now, regardless of how she got here or what she intended to do. I think we punish her for the lies while making it clear that we’re not letting her go.”
Kai’s face transforms into something dark and pleased, a slow smile spreading across his features. “Now that’s a good idea.”
I should feel the same satisfaction that I can see in Kai’s expression, should be eager to make her pay for every moment of deception, but all I feel is this hollow aching in my chest where something warm used to live.
I fell in love with her, actually let myself fall in love for the first time in decades, and she might have been lying about everything from the moment we met.
“Donovan.” Dad’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you going to be able to handle this tomorrow?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, but the words taste like lies in my mouth.
“You’re not fine, and neither is your brother, and honestly, neither am I,” Dad says, and for the first time tonight, I hear something other than cold rage in his voice.
32
KAI
Morning comes slowly,and I haven’t slept at all.
I spent the night in Dad’s office with him and Donovan, taking turns watching the security feed of Samantha’s room while she cried herself into exhaustion and finally fell asleep around three in the morning. The image of her curled up on the floor with her arms wrapped around herself is burned into my brain, and I can’t decide if I want to comfort her or make her hurt the way she’s hurt us.
Maybe both.
The sun rises over the mountains, painting the snow pink and gold through Dad’s office windows, and I feel the familiar tightness building in my chest. I take my medication dry, swallowing the pills without water while Dad reviews his notes and Donovan stares at nothing with hollow eyes.
We’re all exhausted, running on rage and betrayal and the kind of hurt that comes from loving someone who might have been lying the entire time.
“Breakfast in thirty minutes,” Dad says, checking his watch. “We let her sit through the meal. Let her think everything’s normal. Then we confront her.”
“And if she runs?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“She won’t run. She has nowhere to go, and she knows it.” Dad closes his laptop and stands, rolling his shoulders like he’s preparing for a fight. “Get cleaned up. Both of you. We do this together, and we do it right.”
I head to my room and shower quickly, letting the hot water ease some of the tension from my shoulders while my mind races through everything we learned last night.
Robert Allen works for Volkov. Samantha was potentially planted here to gather intelligence. The baby she’s carrying might be ours or might be part of some deeper manipulation I can’t even comprehend.
By the time I’m dressed and heading to breakfast, my chest is tight again, but this time it’s not from my heart condition. It’s from the weight of what’s about to happen.
Samantha is already in the dining room when I arrive, sitting in her usual spot with coffee in front of her and dark circles under her eyes that say she slept about as well as we did.
She looks up when I walk in, and I see fear flash across her face before she hides it behind a weak smile. “Morning,” she says, and her voice is rough from crying.
“Morning.” I take my seat across from her and pour myself coffee, watching her hands shake slightly as she lifts her mug to her lips.
She knows. She has to know that something’s wrong. The question is whether she’ll try to run or if she’ll face what’s coming.
Dad enters next, followed by Donovan, and we all settle into our seats with the kind of silence that feels like the calm before a storm. Staff brings out breakfast, setting plates in front of us before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Samantha pushes eggs around her plate without eating them, and I remember doing the same thing just days ago when I was trying to figure out what was bothering her.
Now I know, and the knowledge sits in my stomach like poison.
“How did you sleep?” Dad asks her, his voice conversational and light in a way that makes my skin crawl because I know what’s underneath it.
