Scooping it up, I drop the laundry basket onto the floor at the foot of my bed and collapse backward onto it with ahollow breath. I stare at the ceiling, eyes dry but burning. Lettie sits beside me slowly.
She doesn’t say anything for a long time. I know she’s waiting for me to speak first. For the past seven years, I used to tell her everything. I used to be the sister who had all the answers, the plans, the pep talks. Now I can’t even explain why my son flinches at loud noises.
“I know something happened,” she says quietly, almost like she’s trying not to spook me. “I’m not stupid. Does this have to do with Maksim’s gang? Or… whatever you call it? He got in trouble, right? And you and Leo got caught in the middle of it. That’s how things work in that world.”
“Lettie…”
She presses on, her voice tightening. “Iknowit was bad, but I don’t knowhowbad. And I need to because I don’t know how to help you otherwise. I don’t know how to helpLeo. What kind of six-year-old fantasizes aboutdying?”
My heart twists so violently, I feel nauseous. “I want to tell you.”
She turns toward me fully. “Thentell me.”
I open my mouth and close it again, air escaping but no words.
I don’t even know how to start.
How do I tell her what we went through? How do I tell her that Leo and I were held in soundproof rooms, locked away without windows, without sunlight, without so much as a clue about what day it was? That I had to pretend to be okayfor Leo’s sake, even when I thought we mightneverbe found?
How do I tell her that Maksim nearly died because of me? That I did the worst thing possible and sold him out to his own enemy?
My sister only knows the surface. She knows Mikhail’s men took us and that we were “missing”, but whatever version they gave her, it wasn’t the full story. Not even close.
“I don’t… even know where to begin,” I choke out.
Lettie shifts on the bed beside me, reaching out. Her fingers skim my knee like she’s scared touching me too suddenly might break me.
“Anywhere,” she says gently.
I stare at the ceiling for a long moment, blinking against the sting in my eyes. The room tilts slightly, my body caught between fight and flight as memories flood forward like a dam breaking loose inside my head.
“I thought I was going to die,” I say finally. “I thoughtLeowas going to die.”
Lettie’s breath catches.
“I was kept in a room no bigger than this one. There was no bathroom, no windows. Only a door that was locked twenty-three hours a day. I was only allowed out to shower and when I needed to use the toilet. Meals were brought to me but they were slop, barely edible. Cameras watched me twenty-four, seven, and there were guards with guns who stood outside in the hallway.”
Her eyes go wide. “Where was Leo?”
“They took him from me.” I swallow, blinking a few times to clear my vision. “I only got to see him once when I negotiated to trade Maksim’s life for his. I sold him out… I sold out Leo’s own father to save ourselves.”
A soft chuckle leaves me. There’s no humor in it, just pure, unadulterated sorrow.
I continue, the shame curling up through my body. “I had to make choices I didn’t want to make… I had to say things to Maksim that weren’t true. I had tohelphis enemy lure him into a trap in order to kill him. I had to watch as a gun was put to my baby’s head… the trigger almost pulled.”
Lettie flinches. “Jesus, Ivy.”
The tears run down my cheeks then. Hearing the shock and horror in those two words she lets out are enough to break through the numbness that’s wrapped around me. Lettie moves closer, wrapping her arms around me so fiercely, I almost can’t breathe. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and for once, I’m grateful.
Finally, when she does lift her head, she says, “are you going to go back to him?”
“I can’t. I sent him away back to Russia,” I croak out.
She watches me for a long moment. “Look… I’m not saying to go running back to him. But… aren’t you leaving both you and Leo vulnerable without being under his protection?”
I blink, taken aback. “What?”
Lettie sighs and shifts on the bed. She props herself up onto her elbow, leaning back just enough to look at me fully. “Imean, he’s always going to have enemies. Eventually, someone is going to dig up information on you two and find out you’re here with his son. Doesn’t the Mafia… I don’t know, value that kind of thing? Firstborns? Heirs to power? Isn’t that, like, ahugedeal?”
