“The evidence was planted.” Melinda turns to Mikhail, who looks like he’s been turned to stone. “The real orchestrator was someone else.”
“Who?” Mikhail’s voice is deadly quiet.
“Your uncle Lorenzo.”
The name hangs in the air like a bomb waiting to explode.
I watch Mikhail’s face drain of color, watch his jaw clench so hard I’m afraid his teeth will crack.
“No.” The word is barely a whisper. “Lorenzo raised me. He’s family.”
“He’s a traitor.” Melinda’s voice is stronger now, more certain. “Adrian said Lorenzo orchestrated the whole thing. He wanted to take over your organization, but he needed you broken first. So he arranged Nicole’s rape, made sure Vincent took the fall, then sat back and watched you destroy yourself with revenge.”
I can’t breathe.
My father wasn’t a monster.
He was trying to save Nicole.
He died trying to expose the truth, and Mikhail killed him for it.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Mikhail’s hands are shaking now, his control slipping. “How do I know this isn’t some trick? Nicole was Lorenzo’s niece! He wouldn’t arrange for such torture of her.”
“Because I have nothing to gain by lying.” Melinda meets his gaze steadily. “And because deep down, you know I’m right. Think about it. Who had access to your security schedules? Whoknew exactly when Nicole would be alone? Who benefited most from your father’s death and your obsession with revenge?”
She pauses to give me a wry smile. “As I said, they talked freely in front of me, so I learned a lot about the Artyomovs and how they were able to break in that night and…” The unbruised portions of her face pale. “And what they did to her.”
Mikhail staggers backward, his hand reaching for the wall to steady himself.
I’ve never seen him look so lost, so completely shattered.
Then he abruptly turns on his heels and leaves.
I shoot a worried glance at Melinda.
She waves a hand toward the door. “Go. I’m exhausted. Go talk to him. I’m just going back to sleep for a bit.”
I hesitate then rush after Mikhail, closing Melinda’s door behind me. I find him in his bedroom, looking out the window.
“Lorenzo,” he breathes without turning to look at me. “It was Lorenzo all along.”
I move on trembling legs to him. When I touch his arm, he flinches like I’ve burned him. “Mikhail?—”
“Your father.” He turns to me, and the anguish in his eyes steals my breath. “Sophia, I killed your father. I tortured him. I made you watch the photos. And he was innocent.”
“He wasn’t innocent,” I say softly, thinking of all the terrible things my father did in his life. “But he didn’t deserve what you did to him. Not for that.”
Mikhail’s legs give out, and he sinks to the floor, his back against the wall.
I’ve seen him face down armed men without flinching, but this truth has brought him to his knees.
“I destroyed you for nothing.” His voice breaks. “I took everything from you, made you suffer, forced you to marry me, all because of a lie.”
I kneel beside him, taking his face in my hands and blinking back tears. “You didn’t know.”
“I should have known. I should have questioned it. Should have investigated more thoroughly. But I was so consumed by rage, so desperate for someone to blame?—”
“Lorenzo manipulated you.” I gently cup the side of his face. “He manipulated both of us. Both of our families.”
