She shakes her head hard, a tear slipping free. “I screamed because—because it hit me how close I came to being used again. Manipulated. Watched. Played.”
Her voice breaks.
And something inside me snaps.
I step toward her, wrap my arms around her, and pull her into my chest. She comes willingly, collapsing against me, her tears soaking into my shirt.
I hold her tight, breathing her in like I need her to stay alive.
“You were never safe anywhere but here,” I murmur into her hair, my voice shaking with the adrenaline still clawing through me. “Not with him. Not with anyone. Only here.”
She trembles, fists curling in my shirt as she breaks down fully, crying into the place just beneath my throat—crying from fear, from relief, from everything.
I tighten my hold, one hand sliding up her back, steady, grounding. She surrenders completely, melting into me.
After a moment, she looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy but fierce.
“What do you feel about my mother?” she whispers. “Do you think she’s guilty?”
I exhale—long, heavy. Not this. Not now.
I don’t have the answers yet, and I don’t want to be the one to shatter her.
“Vivian,” I say quietly, brushing a tear from her cheek, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, you need to sleep.”
She pulls back from my arms, just enough to look me fully in the eye.
“No,” she says, voice firm despite the shake. “Dimitri, I feel it—I know my mother is innocent. Someone is framing her because she’s convenient. Because she’s an easy link.”
I rub a hand over my face. “And what if you feel that way because she’s your mother?”
Her breath catches.
It’s the wrong thing to say—too sharp, too honest, too soon.
She steps back fully now, hurt flashing across her expression.
“I thought you trusted me,” she says quietly. Not accusing. Not angry. Just…wounded.
I step closer, cupping her face gently—not forcing, just holding. “I do trust you. You understand that, right? That’s why I’m not storming over there to confront your family. That’s why I’m not tearing the world apart tonight, looking for someone to blame.”
Her breath softens.
“You come first,” I say. “Always. Do you trust me too?”
“Yes.” Her voice is small, but steady.
“Then let me handle this. I swear to you, Vivian—I’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll find the truth. I promise.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I slide an arm under her knees and lift her without effort. She gasps—surprised, but she loops her arms around my neck on instinct. I can feel her relaxing against me, exhaustion settling back in.
“Now,” I murmur, carrying her toward the bedroom, “you have to go back to sleep. You’re never up this early.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Are you going to lie with me?”
God, I want to.
