America. The one country I had been forbidden, on pain of death, to ever set foot in again.
"I'll need to think about it," I heard myself say.
"Of course." He nodded, patting my shoulder. "But it's a rare opportunity, Anthea. Rosewood is one of the top three private elementary schools in the entire country. This could be a major leap forward in your career."
I left his office holding the letter and walked along the campus's tree-lined path, mind in chaos.
Six years earlier, the father of the New York Bratva had threatened my entire family's lives and ordered me to vanish from the United States forever. But now,
I opened my phone and searched a name.
Alexander Thorne
"Alexander Thorne, Russian-born business magnate, passed away three months ago at age 67 after a long illness..."
He was dead? I stared at the headline, stunned for a second, then my heart began to pound violently.
All these years, I had forced myself not to look up anything about the Thorne family. I was terrified of seeing even a single photo or article about that man and Vanessa—it would have killed whatever was left inside me. Because of that self-imposed blindness, I had missed the biggest news of all.
He was dead. The monster who ordered my baby taken from me, who commanded me to disappear—he was gone. My breathing turned shallow and rapid. Did that mean I could go back?
Silas... Even though the article didn't mention him, I knew he must have smoothly taken over as the new head of the family by now.
He had probably forgotten I existed long ago. He and Vanessa would have their perfect, happy family. To him, I had been nothingmore than a surrogacy tool to be disposed of six years earlier. My throat closed up, but I forced the discomfort down.
A small figure flashed through my mind. Olei would be six now. Was he all right? Would that bastard take care of him? Or would he simply hand the boy off to Vanessa or nannies?
My fingers tightened around the acceptance letter. I had to go back. I had to return to America and see my child. Even if there was only one chance in ten thousand, even if I could only watch him from a great distance, just to confirm he had grown up safe and healthy—that would be enough.
I would be safe so long as I stayed far away from Silas and his world.
I called my mother and told her about the offer. She sounded surprised, then cautiously probed.
"Anthea, going back to New York... are you sure? The Thorne family is there..."
"I'm sure." My voice came out steadier than I expected. "It's a rare chance, Mom. Alexander Thorne is dead, and I can't keep running from the past forever."
She was quiet for a long time.
"Whatever you decide, I'll support you," she said at last. "And since you're leaving soon, I'd like to introduce you to someone."
"Who?"
"Your childhood playmate, Julian. Do you remember him? Our families stayed in touch. He's a lawyer now, practicing in New York. When I spoke to his mother a few days ago, he asked about you very kindly."
The name stirred faint ripples in my memory. Julian Voss. As a little girl, I used to declare—completely seriously—that I would marry him one day. He was several years older and always treated me like a big brother would. He'd ruffle my hair and say with a laugh, "We'll talk about that when you're grown up."
"Mom, I don't need to be set up."
"It's not a setup," she hurried to explain. "Just two old friends catching up. He's actually in London on business right now. You'vebeen alone for so many years. I just want you to start living again, like a normal person."
Normal person. The phrase stung. Yes—normal people date, fall in love, get married, build families. And me? I had locked myself away for six years, numbed myself with work, and refused every possibility of closeness.
"Just dinner, okay?" Her voice softened, almost pleading. "You deserve to see friends again. Julian's a good man—someone we've known forever. I only want you to be happy. Outside of school, I can't remember the last time I saw you really smile."
I tightened my grip on the phone. If I refused, wouldn't that prove I was still hung up on the man who lied to me and hurt me the most? Maybe my mother was right. Maybe it was time to move forward and let myself feel something again.
"Okay," I said. "Give me his number."
