If I hadn't been so naive. If I'd taken that money and gotten Aiden into surgery right away instead of waiting for some goddamn dream team of doctors—would he still be alive?
"If I'd just said no to that money," I dug my nails into the dirt, "if I'd never married him, stayed just another nobody nurse—at least that night I could've been with you."
At least Aiden wouldn't have died alone.
At least I could've held his hand. Told him his sister was right there. Told him not to be afraid.
I'd been greedy. Thought I could have it all—Aiden's surgery, Kirill's love, a happy family.
God must've been laughing his ass off.
Laughing at the broke fat girl who thought she could be good enough for a beautiful mafia boss. Laughing at the kid whose own parents didn't want her, stupid enough to think anyone would ever really love her.
I cried in that graveyard for hours. Until the sun started sinking. Until my voice gave out completely. Finally, I sat up, scrubbed my filthy hands across my face, and looked at the headstone.
"I haveto go, Aiden."
My voice sounded like sandpaper on wood. "I don't know where yet. But I'll come back to see you."
The headstone didn't answer.
I stood. My knees had gone numb from kneeling so long—I almost fell. Steadied myself against Aiden's grave, then bent down and kissed the cold stone.
The town had one road out.
I walked it slowly, my only luggage a faded backpack with a few changes of clothes and Aiden's journal inside.
The sun was going down, painting the sky orange-red.
I had no idea where I was going.
I had just enough money for a bus ticket to the nearest city. And then what? Find work? But I had no degree. After all these years as a caregiver, I couldn't do anything else.
And... I touched my stomach without thinking. Ever since Kirill had shoved me into that banister, something felt off. Constant nausea. Smells made me sick.
Not a good sign. But I couldn't afford doctors anymore.
A black car came up behind me and slowed down.
Instinct kicked in. I picked up my pace. Out here in the middle of nowhere, a strange car pulling up next to you meant nothing good.
The window rolled down.
"Excuse me." A man's voice, oddly elegant. "Are you Aiden's sister?"
I froze.
Turned to look. The driver was maybe early thirties, blond, blue-eyed, handsome in a brooding sort of way. Expensive navy suit that stuck out like a sore thumb in this dead-end town.
"Who are you?" I stepped back.
He got out, moved like some Renaissance painting come to life. Polite smile on his lips, but those blue eyes held something I couldn't read.
"My name's Julian," he said. "Julian Dante. I was... Aiden's online friend."
My heart clenched.
"Aiden?"
