“What the hell were you thinking?” He spins to face me, and I flinch at the raw fear in his eyes. “Showing your face there? At aVolkovfuneral? Do you have any idea what could have happened if someone recognized you?”
“I wore a veil,” I protest, pulling it off me, my damp hair sticking to my head. “I stayed in the back. No one?—”
“You don’t understand.” He cuts me off, his voice cracking. “The Volkovs are planning retaliation. Dimitri Volkov is—” He stops and swallows hard. I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “He’s going to start a war, Vera. Anactualwar. And if he’d seen you there, if he hadanysuspicion that you were there to—to what? Gloat?”
“I wasn’t gloating,” I say quietly, my stomach roiling. Whether it’s from the baby or from what I’m about to admit, I don’t know. “I was saying goodbye.”
The words hang in the air between us. My father stares at me, and I watch horror, disbelief, and anger dawn slowly across his face.
“No,” he breathes, his lips going bloodless. “No. Vera, tell me you didn’t?—”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I say, and the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over. “I didn’t mean to fall for him.”
My father sinks into his leather chair, his legs giving out on him. He suddenly looks older, every one of his fifty-three years showing in the lines of his face.
“How long?” His voice is barely a whisper.
I swallow, my mouth dry. “Eight months.”
“Eight!” He springs up and starts pacing again. “For eight months, you’ve been seeing Alexei Volkov? While our families were—JesusChrist, Vera. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I loved him!” The words burst out of me, raw and broken. “I loved him, and now he’s dead, and I can never tell him…”
I collapse into one of the chairs, burying my face in my hands. My whole body shakes with sobs I can’t control anymore. I can’t tell my father I’m also pregnant with Alexei's baby. He already looks like he’s ready to keel over from the news I just gave him.
I feel my father’s hand on my shoulder, heavy and uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but we have bigger problems now.”
I look up at him through my tears. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a way to prevent the war,” he says slowly. “Konstantin Volkov—Alexei’s uncle—approached me two days ago with a proposal.”
My blood runs cold. “W–What kind of proposal?”
“A marriage,” he says, and the floor drops out from under me. “Between our families. To create peace.”
“Who?” But I already know. I can see it in his face. “Dad,who?”
“You,” he says quietly. “You and Dimitri Volkov.”
The room spins. I grip the arms of the chair, my knuckles white, and I almost forget how to breathe.
“No,” I gasp. “No, you can’t!”
“You’re my oldest daughter. You’re the only offering they’ll accept.” He kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. They’re shaking. “I know what I’m asking. I know it’s—” He turns his head away, his shoulders trembling. Normally, I would be stunned to see my father show such emotion, but I don’t even think I know my name at this point. “God, Vera, I know. But if you don’t do this, everyone dies.”
He turns back to look at me, his eyes full of pain. “Your mother. Natasha and Lydia. Everyone who works for us. Everyone we’re responsible for. The Volkovs will come for all of us, and they won’t stop until there's nothing left.”
“Y–You’re selling me to them.” The words taste like ash. “You’re selling me to Alexei’s brother.”
“I’m saving us,” he says, and there's real, genuine pain in his voice. “All of us. This is the only way.”
My mind goes to my mother. Sweet, gentle Elena Ashford, who has never harmed a soul. Then to my twelve-year-old sisters, Natasha and Lydia, still innocent, still unaware of the darker truths beneath our family’s polished surface.
I picture Mrs. Garcia, our housekeeper who has been with us since the day I was born, and Joe, our driver, who taught me how to parallel park. All the people who depend on us, who trust us to keep their world safe.
And I think of the baby. My hand ghosts over stomach again, pressing against the secret I’m carrying. If I refuse this marriage, if I let the Volkovs start their war, this baby dies too. The last piece of Alexei, gone before it ever had a chance to live.
