My hand shakes when I’m handed a glass of water. At some point during Andrik’s long confession about his contribution to his brother’s heartbreak, I sat down—whether by choice or force, I’m not sure. My mind is spiraling so much that I’m struggling to remember which way is up.
For years, I believed Mikhail had left me at the altar. I had no clue he was standing next to the priest, awaiting my arrival, because his grandfather bombarded me before I could walk through the church doors.
Now the way he looks at me makes sense.
He truly believes I broke his heart.
My mind races back to that moment, the confrontation with Mikhail’s grandfather, before I stammer out again in disbelief, “Mikhail was inside the church?”
Andrik nods, his unvoiced reply hitting me like a punch to the stomach.
Even hearing it multiple times hasn’t lessened its impact.
Mikhail didn’t leave me at the altar.
He was there, waiting for me.
Zoya moves closer when I involuntarily sway before she encourages me to take a sip of water. When I do, she smiles softly before squatting down in front of me, her swollen belly resting between her slim thighs.
The slightest groan sees Andrik at her side in an instant. “?????, you’re meant to be resting.”
“Shh.” Zoya waves off her husband’s worry as if it is unfounded before returning her focus to me. “What Andrik orchestrated was wrong. Your shock is valid. But at the time, he believed he was saving your life and the life of your unborn child.”
A wave of confusion washes over me. “What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “What child?”
Andrik rejoins the conversation, willing to face the brunt of my anger if it will shield his wife from it. “I saw the pregnancy test, Emerson, and the ultrasound results. I thought they were yours.” He looks down, his expression pained. “My advisor did, too. We remained unaware until our grandfather passed, and the lineage he had amassed over the years was sought for his estate.” I’m sucker punched for the umpteenth time when he murmurs, “When you never came forward as claimant, I prompted his attorney to what I believed was another subsequent recipient of his fortune.” He coughs, seemingly embarrassed. “It was then that we learned the pregnancy test and ultrasound images I had seen were not yours. They were?—”
“My mother’s,” I interrupt, flabbergasted.
For the first time, his stern expression softens before he nods. “I was wrong, but I thought I was protecting you.”
The room spins around me, and I feel like I can’t breathe. “How? It doesn’t make any sense. Even if I was pregnant, how could breaking us up protect me?”
Mikhail’s confession about his mother being alive and how she was used as an incubator by a government institution meant to keep her safe answers my questions on his behalf.
“They took his mother because she had conceived a daughter.” I lock my eyes with Zoya. “Because she had conceived you.”
Zoya grimaces before nodding.
I take a deep breath, trying to process everything. The betrayal, the lies, the misguided attempt at protection. Then I think about how Mikhail would have felt standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me, and for him to believe I never showed up.
A solemn tear rolls down my cheek as I murmur to myself, “I should have gone inside. I should have fought harder for us. I should have trusted him enough to know he would never hurt me like that.”
“No, honey,” Zoya denies, waddling closer like a duck. “You are not to blame. Mikhail is not to blame.” Andrik drags in a needed breath when she murmurs, “Andrik isn’t to blame, either. He did, at the time, what he thought was right, and when he learned otherwise, he endeavored to fix his mistake.”
I bounce my wet eyes between hers, lost.
She smiles as if she finds my daftness cute before she relieves it. “This”—her hand floats around Mikhail’s office as if she is highlighting the entirety of the Zelenolsk Manor—“was not Andrik Sr.’s doing.” Her eyes shift to her husband, hot and heavy. “Just a man who is slowly learning he is a mere mortal, like the rest of us.”
“So the five-hundred-million-dollar inheritance isn’t true?” I don’t care about the money. Truly, I don’t. I’m just lost as to what is happening and how I am involved in the cruel ruse Andrik is playing on his brother. Hasn’t Mikhail been through enough?
“The inheritance is valid,” Andrik announces. “It is just coming from me instead of Andrik Sr.”
His generosity is astonishing, but it doesn’t alter the facts. “Paying Mikhail off won’t fix this.”
“I know,” Andrik agrees, his head slightly bobbing. “That isn’t what this is about. Mikhail is wealthy in his own right. He wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t receive a cent from our grandfather’s estate.” Zoya’s cheeks flush when a glint passes through his eyes as he rakes them over her face a second before he shifts his focus back to me. “But you… he would doanythingto help you. Especially if it would force you to become a part of his life again.”
Confusion echoes in my tone. “Then why not just encourage him to do that? Why force him to take part in an elaborately designed skit?” I answer my own questions. “Because you made him believe I had left him, so this is the only way you could make him face his heartbreak headfirst?”
