Hate that when I woke screaming from nightmares last night, the only thing that calmed me was his arms around me, his voice murmuring reassurances in the dark.
Hate that I’m starting to confuse possession for protection.
The car pulls up to my family’s expensive townhouse. The same house I grew up in, the same windows I used to stare out of wondering why I never quite belonged.
Aleksandr opens my door himself, helps me out with a hand at my elbow. To anyone watching, we look like a normal couple. Devoted husband, cherished wife.
The lie of it makes my chest tight.
My mother answers the door. She’s dressed impeccably as always, hair perfect, expression carefully neutral.
“Elena.” She kisses my cheek, the gesture perfunctory. “Mr. Sharov.”
“Mrs. Lawrence.” Aleksandr’s tone is polite. Cold.
She leads us inside. The house smells the same—furniture polish and the lavender sachets my mother insists on despite them making my allergies flare. Everything is exactly as I remember, which somehow makes it feel more foreign.
My siblings are in the sitting room. James, my half brother, barely glances up from his phone. Sarah, my half sister, manages a tight smile before returning to her tea.
The unwanted daughter, returned with her dangerous husband. A reminder of everything the Lawrence family has lost.
“Tea?” my mother offers. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you,” I say. “I’d like to speak with Father. Alone.”
Aleksandr’s hand tightens slightly on my waist. A warning or a question, I’m not sure which.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him quietly. “Just family business.”
He doesn’t look convinced but releases me. “I’ll be right here.”
The promise feels like both comfort and threat.
My father’s study looks smaller than I remember. Or maybe I’ve just grown since the last time I stood here, waiting for acknowledgment that never quite came.
He’s behind his desk, reviewing papers that probably detail the remnants of his empire. What little Aleksandr left intact.
“Elena.” He doesn’t stand. Doesn’t smile. “You look well. Marriage agrees with you.”
The words are so absurd I almost laugh. “Do you actually believe that?”
“I believe you’re alive. Fed. Protected.” He sets down his pen. “More than you would be if you’d continued your reckless behavior.”
“Reckless,” I breathe through the surge of anger. “I tried to gather evidence. Tried to help save our family.”
“You broke into a Bratva facility. Stole classified information. Put yourself and all of us at risk.” His expression hardens. “That’s not help. That’s childish rebellion.”
“I was trying to prove myself! Trying to show I could be useful!”
“By getting yourself captured? Forced into marriage? Becoming leverage against your own family?” He shakes his head. “You’ve brought shame, Elena. Nothing more.”
The words hit like physical blows. I knew he thought this. Knew he blamed me. Hearing it stated so plainly cracks something inside.
“When the Bratva turned on us,” I say quietly, “when Aleksandr started dismantling everything we built—you let me go without a fight. You signed me over to save your business interests.”
“I made a strategic decision—”
“You chose safety over me!” My voice rises despite my effort to stay calm. “You’ve always chosen everything over me. The legitimate children. The business. Your reputation. I’ve spent my entire life trying to earn a place in this family and you sold me the moment it was convenient.”
