“Thank you, Auntie.”
“Pretty sure you have enough paperwork to rival the freaking Vatican at this point.”
I snort and wave that off. “You think the Catholics are writing stuff down? They got nothing on me.” I flip open the new folder, scan the first page, and nod in approval. “I appreciate this.”
“That’s my job, isn’t it?” She looks at me sideways. “Still doesn’t feel right working for my own daughter.”
I go very still. An odd lump fills my throat. I don’t acknowledge what she just said, but it pierces deep into me, my heart racing. Tears threaten and I have to turn away to wipe them off my face.
All my life, I’ve wondered about my family. I hated my father from afar, despised the men he sent to watch me, resented him for his control. I imagined myself living with my mother, pretended like all I needed was her love and then somehow, I’d be free from everything.
Except that was never real. It was a stupid, childish fantasy.
I had a mother this whole time.
It was Yelena. The woman who raised me, even though I wasn’t her kid, even though she never even wanted a child. She raised me, treated me well, taught me and cared for me. She loved me unconditionally and told me she was proud of me. Without her, I would’ve crumbled a long time ago. She gave me strength when I needed it.
I reach out and take her hand. She smiles at me and squeezes my fingers.
“I love you,” I say softly. “Thanks for what you did.”
“Which part? No, I’m kidding. I love you too, Nikusha. Now stop blubbering, you’re going to smear the ink on your pretty little financial document.”
I laugh because that’s classic Aunt Yelena.
“Gabe told me I was nuts for doing this.” I scrawl my name on another page and flip to the next.
“Ah, what’s he know?”
“Some things. But not about this.” I glance back at the house. “How’s our Dragon doing?”
“Bored but happy to be bored because you’re here.”
“That man loves me.”
“Yes, he really does, God help you.”
I finish signing the new papers and hand the folder back to Yelena. “Make sure this gets taken care of, please, and don’t let them know it was me.”
“Of course not.” She glares at it. “I still can’t believe you’re doing it either. I mean, this woman, what did she do?”
“Nothing. That’s the point. She’s a victim too, you know?”
“Still.”
“My father ruined her. Yes, she abandoned me, and she probably doesn’t deserve it, but this money is the least I can do.”
“She’ll be looked after for life now.” Yelena rolls her eyes and clutches the folder to her chest. “Where’s my trust fund, eh?”
“You have a job.”
“Ah, working for my own girl. What a job!”
“You love it. Your boss is very lenient.”
“She’s also very lazy.” Yelena pushes herself to her feet. “Ah well. Keep up the painting, darling. You’re talented.”
I watch her head back inside. It’s strange, thinking about Aunt Yelena, how she’s the first person I truly chose to love instead of being forced to. All those men in my life, nudging me here and there, while Yelena kept the worst of it at bay and let me be my own person as much as she could. I owe her a lot.
