“I’m so sorry,” was all I could say. “You deserved better.”
No matter how many countless times I’d heard some version of this story before, from other KZ models, it never got any easier listening to these survivors tell their tales of my father’s evil. I also knew from experience that it was cathartic for the women to speak, so instead of filling in the rest of the story for Anja, I simply waited for her to get it out.
She took a long drink of her tea, and when she lowered the cup I saw fresh tears streaking down her face. I reached for a few napkins and passed them her way.
“As time went on,” she continued, “KZ expected me to spend more and more time on my back, and less on the runway. My life started to feel like a nightmare. Until I met you.”
“We had a good run,” I told her. “No regrets.”
We shared a smile, nostalgic for our younger selves. The selves that no longer existed.
Anja went on, “I knew you loved me, and I loved you too. But I was convinced that I wasn’t good enough for you. That we could never truly be together. That’s why it was so easy to walk away when KZ gave me the offer—because I knew a woman like me wasn’t worthy of a man like you.”
“You’re worthy,” I told her vehemently. “You werealwaysworth more than you thought. I knew exactly what kind of work you did, and I never thought you were anything less than a queen. No man deserves you if he doesn’t think the same.”
“Thanks,” Anja said quietly.
I got up and took down Tori’s favorite mug, putting together a tea tray for her. Then I turned back to Anja, who was staring out the window at the cityscape and sniffling into a tissue.
“Don’t ever let a scumbag like my father define who you are and what you’re worth,” I said. “I wish things had been different for you. But you got Max out of it, and…I hope it’s okay to say that I think he probably makes your whole life feel worthwhile.”
“He really does,” Anja said with a smile.
“I know I’ve said this before, but Tori and I will always be here to help you and Max, in whatever way you need. We care for both of you, and that’s not going to change. Even if the relationship between you and me is on different terms now.”
“I understand,” Anja said. “And I’m so grateful.”
It was hard not to grieve for both of us. For the kids we had been and the people we had become. Still, I didn’t regret the way things had worked out—how could I when it had gotten me a life with Tori?
“I should bring this tea to my wife,” I told Anja, picking up the tray.
She followed me out of the kitchen and through the dining room, where we hung back and watched Tori and Max through the doorway for a minute, both of them deeply involved in constructing some kind of multi-towered castle in the middle of the living room floor.
“She is very special,” Anja said quietly. “I’m glad my son will have a sister like her. Max deserves to grow up around people as smart and kind as he is.”
“He does. So he’s lucky he has you for a mom,” I told her. “Make no mistake: he turned out the way he did because of how you raised him.”
Her eyes grew teary again.
“You’re a good man, Stefan,” she said. “Knowing who you were as a teenager and listening to you now, I can’t believe I ever worried you’d turn out like your father. He’s been grooming you all this time, but it’s obvious that you’ve been playing him.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice casual.
I cleared my throat, hoping to avoid giving anything away. Anja always had been able to read me like an open book when we were face to face. But things could get dangerous fast if I admitted that I was in the process of working with the feds to dismantle KZM’s operations.
“Well. Maybe I’m wrong.” Anja shrugged. “But if there’s ever anything I can do to help stop him—and keep him from hurting other women—just say the word.”
“Will do,” I said. “But there’s nothing going on.”
“Of course. But if there is…I promise not to say anything,” Anja added. “I can be very discreet.”
“Sure,” I said, bustling into the living room with the tea.
“Oooh, is that for me?” Tori squealed. “And are all those Oreos for Max?”
“They’re to share,” Anja cut in, “but you two can decide who gets how many.”
As the other three fought over the cookies, I ruminated on everything Anja and I had just discussed. Clearly she suspected I had plans to dismantle my father’s operation from the inside, but although I was grateful for her offer of help, I hoped I wouldn’t need it. Frank Chase had led me to believe that my father’s arrest was imminent. In the meantime, the wait was killing me.
