I dip my hand back into one of the grocery bags and pull out a celery stick. Ripping open the bag, I pop it into my mouth, crunching. At least I’m forcing myself to eat healthily. The baby needs nutrients.
What you also need is sunlight, Lauren.
This dark room isn’t doing your mood any favors.
I have only recently started dragging myself out of bed before noon. Last week, it became a habit to hide under the sanctuary of the covers and forget about the world. My bladder was full, hunger gnawing at my stomach, but I couldn’t get my body to move. It was physically exhausting just to get up and go to the bathroom.
I take another bite of celery, chewing, and think about the baby. I’m doing this for her. I’m sure I’d be gorging on McDonald’s burgers if I wasn’t pregnant. Sophia reassured methat in time, I will be fine, that she’s always there for me. The only thing it did was make me cry.
Two weeks have passed and barely anything has changed. I don’t think time will let me forget the day Ronan Aslanov took the love of my life from me.
BUZZ!
BUZZ!
The ringing of the doorbell jolts me from my thoughts. I sit up, stunned for a moment, wondering if I’m hearing things.
BUZZ!
I reluctantly push myself up, my legs dragging me forward at the small possibility of this being Nikolai.
Surprise, lapochka!
I’m not dead!
The thought is ridiculous, but it’s enough to give me strength to cross the room and tug open the door to… nothing.
I frown, sticking my head out to peer down the corridor. It’s empty. There’s no one here.
I’m about to shut the door and return to wallowing in my misery when my eyes catch a small package on the doormat.
I freeze. There’s a label on it—it’s addressed to me.
I squat down and pick up the package, taking another look down the corridor to see if anyone is lurking—but everything remains still.
After a few more moments of pointless staring, I shut the door behind me and carry the package to the dining room table, carefully placing it down in case whatever’s inside is fragile. It’s light. Perhaps there isn’t anything in it. I grab a knife from the drawer and run the serrated edge along where the package has been taped.
My breath catches when I see the small object at the bottom.
The USB stick.
The one with my father’s encrypted files.
I dash over to grab my laptop from the coffee table, plugging it into the port. I open the folder and load the files in the decryption app.
And… there it is.
Everything.
The flash drive contains all of my father’s private files, the ones I stole from his computer. Proof that he’s guilty. Proof so strong that even the world’s best lawyer won’t be able to save him.
Time stands still as I stare at the documents, my stick of celery abandoned.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lauren
(4 years later)
