“You’re dead,” I finally whisper, sounding quite stupid. “I went to your funeral. You were buried.”
“Clearly not.” He steps away from the window, moving with that easy grace I used to find so attractive. Now it just looks predatory. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” He dusts himself off and looks at me again. “Did you cry for me, Vera? Did you mourn the poor boy who loved you?”
The smile on his face used to be charming and make my heart flutter. Now it looks cruel and cold, like something wearing Alexei’s face but empty underneath.
“How did you—” I can’t finish the sentence as I still can’t make sense of any of this. “How did you get in here?”
“Please.” He scoffs as he glances around the room like he owns it. “The place is locked down now, I’ll give Dimitri that, but I grew up in this house, sweetheart. I know every shift change, every blind spot, and every weakness in my brother’s perfect security.”
The way he says ‘my brother’ makes goosebumps erupt on my skin. There’s no affection or warmth there. Just bitterness.
This isn’t the Alexei I knew. That man was sweet and charming who made me feel special. This is someone else entirely.
But is the Alexei I knew even the real Alexei? Or was he hiding his true self the entire time?
“Why?” I ask desperately, unable to wrap my brain around Alexei’s deception and betrayal. “Why would you fake your death? Why would you let Dimitri think?—”
“Let Dimitri think what? That I was murdered? That he needed to avenge me?” Alexei laughs, and the sound makes my blood run cold. “That was the entire point, Vera. Frame the Ashfords. Start a war. Force the families into a peace agreement sealed with a wedding.” His eyes drop to my stomach. “And ensure the next generation belongs to us.”
My hand moves protectively to my belly and the gesture makes his smile widen. It’s so grotesque I nearly recoil.
“There it is,” he says softly. “Maternal instinct. It’s really quite something, isn’t it? You’ve been in motion for months now. Playing your part perfectly. The grieving girlfriend. The reluctant bride. The devoted mother-to-be.” His eyes meet mine again, and there’s a look in them that makes me want to run. “And you.” His gaze drops back to my stomach. “The baby. You’re both central to everything.”
I feel sick, actually nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with pregnancy. “What are you talking about?”
Alexei rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, Vera. You’re smarter than this.” He takes a step closer. I take a step back. “Did you reallythink it was a coincidence? You and me meeting at that bar? Eight months of secret dating?”
“You…” The words stick in my throat as my heart fuckingcracks. “You planned this? All of it?” There’s an odd ringing in my ears, and it’s like the world has gone still.
“Every single detail.” He’s enjoying this, he’s actuallyenjoyingwatching me fall apart. “I ‘die’ at the hands of the Ashfords. War breaks out. Konstantin steps in as the voice of reason, suggests a marriage alliance to end the bloodshed. He plants the idea with Vincent Ashford—your father was remarkably easy to manipulate, by the way. Desperate to save his own skin.” He mockingly shakes his head. “He gave you up without even a fight.”
The casual cruelty in his voice makes me shiver.
“Dimitri would marry you,” he continues, as if telling me all this was as easy as discussing the weather, “raise my child, and create the perfect bridge between families. The only tricky part was making sure you got pregnant first. I had to time it just right.”
The ground seems to fall out from beneath me at his words.
My pregnancy wasplanned. Orchestrated. It wasn’t an accident or bad timing but a deliberate…
And then I remember how Alexei always insisted he would handle birth control. I had told him I would go on the pill, and he insisted that wasn’t necessary. That he always had condoms. He would smile and say he wanted to have the onus of birth control fall on him as it wasn’t fair it always fell to the women.
I trusted him. I let him handle it because he seemed so considerate and caring. I was thrilled too. Which man actually wanted to wearcondomsinstead of bare backing it?
He knew just what to say to me in order to allow him to control this. But he always wore a condom. How could I have gotten?
Then it hits me. He was sabotaging them, by poking holes or…
Oh, God.
I’m actually going to be sick.
My hand flies to my mouth as nausea rolls through me. This isn’t morning sickness. This is the sick realization that even my pregnancy—mybaby—was part of his plan. That every intimate moment we shared was a lie designed to trap me.
I feel dirty and violated in a way that goes beyond physical. He didn’t just use my body. He manipulated every choice, every decision, and every moment of trust.
I was so stupid. So incredibly, unbelievably stupid.
“You…” I can’t find words for the depth of this betrayal. It feels like there’s a fist closing around my heart, squeezing painfully.
