"In what way?"
I shake my foot and grip my knee. "She sees me, not my last name, or my mother. Me. My work. My instincts. She's never tried to reshape me into something prettier or quieter."
Red nods. "And she's gone now."
I stiffen. "She's not an employee anymore."
"Why?" he asks carefully.
I hesitate. The truth sits heavy on my tongue, dangerous and tangled. "It was…complicated."
"Try me."
I exhale slowly. "She married someone my father doesn't approve of."
Red doesn't press, but his eyes sharpen with understanding.
I continue, "He couldn't handle it. Not because Fiona did anything wrong, but because she stopped fitting into the world the way he wanted."
"And that affected your relationship with her?"
My voice tightens. "Yes. She didn't disappear completely. Things are starting to be okay again. But it's not the same. I lost her when I needed her most."
Red studies me. "That kind of loss can destabilize attachment patterns."
I roll my eyes weakly. "There you go with the clinical again."
He declares, "It matters. When someone loses a stabilizing figure, they often look for another anchor."
I stiffen, heat crawling up my neck. "Well, I became obsessed with Brax way before Fiona left."
Red's pen pauses mid-stroke. It's just a hitch, before he resumes writing. His jaw sets a fraction tighter.
He's jealous of Brax!
The awareness sends a quiet thrill through me.
Silence grows thick and uncomfortable as he scribbles across the pad.
He clears his throat and asks, "Did anyone exit your life when you first noticed Brax?"
"It was a long time ago."
"Try to remember. You were sixteen, right?" he nudges.
"Yes." My mind spins through events, and I rattle off, "It was at my sister Mila's graduation party when I took an interest in him. She went to join my sister Daria in Paris to study fashion."
Red leans closer. "You're close to your sisters?"
"Sure. All Ivanovs are close. It's in our blood. Family is everything," I deadpan.
The corners of his lips curve. He scratches something in his notebook, then opens my file. His eyes dart across the page, then he shuts it. "Tell me about your brother. He's the oldest, right?"
"Second oldest. My sister Daria is the oldest. He's number two. You should see his issues with not being number one," I tease.
Red studies me. "What kind of issues?"
"It was a joke."
