"If you loved me, you would have searched harder. Questioned the story. Refused to believe I was dead."
I'm grasping now, I know it, but I can't stop. "Instead, you accepted it and moved on."
"There was a body!" she shouts. "Roman identified it himself. There was evidence. A funeral. Your father died from grief six months later. What was I supposed to think?"
"You were supposed to know." The words come from somewhere raw and wounded. "You were supposed to feel it if I was still alive. I would know if you were dead, Kira. My heart would know."
Silence falls between us. She's staring at me like I just revealed something I didn't mean to show.
"You wanted me to know," she says slowly. "Even with a body, even with evidence, you wanted me to somehow know you were alive. That's not fair, Maksim. That's not—"
"Fair?" I laugh, and it sounds broken. "Nothing about this is fair. Nothing about spending six years being destroyed while everyone I loved moved on with their lives is fair. But here we are."
I can see her trying to find words, trying to reach me through the rage and pain. But I won't let her.
Because if I let her in, if I believe her innocence, then I have to face what that means: that I've spent six years hating the wrong person. That I'm about to destroy the woman I love based on a lie.
That possibility is worse than any torture I endured.
I start fixing my clothing properly—straightening my tie, buttoning my jacket, erasing any evidence of what just happened. She watches me, and I can see the moment she realizes I'm leaving.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the party." I brush off my sleeves. "I came here to make a scene, remember? Let everyone know I'm back. Can't do that hiding in a garden."
"Maksim, please. We need to talk about this. About what really happened—"
"We're done talking." I turn to face her fully. "Here's what's going to happen: you're going to go back to your engagement party. Smile for Roman. Play the dutiful fiancée. And I'm going to systematically destroy everything you've built. Your organization. Your reputation. Your power. All of it. I will destroy you."
"Why?" The question comes out broken. "If you're not sure I betrayed you, why would you—"
"Because I need to." The truth slips out before I can stop it. "Because if I don't have revenge, I don't have anything."
Understanding dawns in her eyes, and I see pity there. I can't stomach her pity.
“I can help you.”
I smirk. “You already did. Thanks for breaking the dry spell, by the way. Six years is a long time. Good to know some things still work."
I watch the words land like bullets. Watch her face crumple. Watch the Ice Queen crack.
Then I turn and walk away before I can take it back.
The party is in full swing when I step back into the ballroom.
Then someone sees me.
The silence spreads like ripples in water. One person stops talking. Then another. Then a whole cluster. Within seconds, the entire ballroom is quiet, everyone staring at the ghost who just walked out of the garden.
Let them stare. Let them see.
I move through the crowd with my head high, shoulders back, every inch the Barinov heir. People part for me like I'm carrying a plague, and maybe I am. The plague of uncomfortable truths and disrupted plans.
Then I catch sight of him.
Roman stands near the center of the room with a drink in his hand.He smiles at me, holding up his glass in invitation for me to join him. I walk to him. Let everyone watch this reunion. He pulls me into a hug.
“You're alive. Thank God, you're alive."
