Chapter 15
Katrina
Christmas. The first one in years that we weren't hiding, running, pretending.
I slipped out of bed and padded to the small living area where I'd set up a tree last night after Zara fell asleep.
Three feet tall, decorated with cheap ornaments I'd picked up.
Nothing like the massive, designer-decorated trees throughout the mansion. But it was ours.
I pulled the wrapped presents from where I'd hidden them in the closet and arranged them carefully underneath. Not much, some books, new clothes, the art supplies Zara had been begging for. Everything I could afford after setting aside money to start paying Olek back.
I shoved the thought away and stood, surveying the little tree.
It would make Zara happy. That was what mattered.
Time to check on the house. I dressed quickly and slipped into the hallway.
The mansion was quiet, everyone still asleep.
I moved through the rooms systematically, checking that everything was perfect for Christmas day.
Fires laid but not yet lit. Tables set. Decorations pristine. Everything exactly as it should be. In the kitchen, Chef Boris was already working, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.
"Morning," I said. "How are we looking?"
"Good, good. Turkey's ready to go in at seven. Sides are prepped." He gestured to the counter covered in bowls and trays. "This family, they eat like an army."
"It’s mostly men and growing children." I checked his list. "The special menu items?"
"All here. He is very specific." Boris shook his head. "Caviar for breakfast. Who eats caviar for breakfast on Christmas?"
"Russians," we said in unison, and I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Everything's perfect," I said. "I'll check back in an hour."
I made my way back toward the family quarters, my mind already running through the day's schedule. Breakfast at nine. Present exchange at ten. They were going out for lunch. Dinner here at four. Evening gathering with dessert.
I stopped. There was a stack of wrapped boxes in front of my door. My heart stuttered. I looked around the empty hallway, then knelt to examine it. Ten boxes, all wrapped in expensive paper—gold and cream, with silk ribbons. No card visible. But I knew.
I gathered them up and slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me. Set them on the coffee table and just stared. I should return them unopened–maintain the boundaries I'd set.
Instead, I reached for the smallest box.
The wrapping paper whispered as I tore it away.
A velvet jewelry box underneath. I opened it.
Earrings. Diamond studs that caught the light and threw it back in rainbow fractals.
Real diamonds. Probably worth more than my car.
The second small box held a bracelet. Delicate gold chain with a single pendant—my initial in diamonds.
My hands shook as I opened the note tucked underneath.
Katrina,
I'm sorry. For not telling you about Mila. For not explaining about Adrienne. For making you feel like you don't matter when you matter more than anything.
You asked me once why I wanted you to stay after our arrangement ended. The answer is simple: because I'm in love with you.
I know I have no right to say that. I know I've hurt you. But it's the truth.
These are yours regardless of what you decide. No strings. No expectations. Just because I wanted you to have them.
P.S. There's a matching ring too. But I'll give you that one in person when you're ready to hear what it means.
- Olek
I read it three times, my vision blurring.
I'm in love with you.
He couldn't—he didn't—but he did. And God help me, I loved him too. I set the note down with trembling hands and opened the other boxes. A cashmere scarf. A leather-bound journal. A first edition of a book I'd mentioned loving once in passing. He'd been listening. Remembering. Caring.
The last boxes were labeled for Zara. I opened them carefully. Art supplies—professional grade, the kind I could never afford. A new winter coat, sized perfectly. And a stuffed rabbit, twin to the one she already had but pristine and new. Tears spilled over before I could stop them.
He'd gotten gifts for my sister. Because he knew she mattered to me.
"Kat?"
I looked up. Zara stood in her doorway, rubbing her eyes. "Why are you crying? Is something wrong?"
"No, baby." I wiped my face quickly. "Nothing's wrong. Come see—Santa came."
Her eyes went huge. "He found us here?"
"He always finds you." I pulled her close. "Come on. Let's open presents."
We spent the next hour on the floor by our little tree. Zara's excitement was infectious, making me laugh despite the tears still threatening. She loved everything, but especially the art supplies.
"These are the good kind," she breathed, running her fingers over the colored pencils. "The kind real artists use."
"You are a real artist."
"Can I draw something for Mr. Sidorov? To say thank you for letting us stay?"
My throat tightened. "I think he'd like that very much."
"Okay!" She jumped up. "I'm going to get dressed and then draw the best picture ever!"
She disappeared into her room, leaving me alone with the boxes from Olek. I picked up the earrings, holding them to the light.
There's a matching ring too.
What did that mean? What was he—no. I couldn't think about it. Not now. Not when I had a house full of guests and a full day of work ahead. I tucked the jewelry back into their boxes and hid them in my dresser drawer. Out of sight. Out of mind.
Or at least I tried.
By 8:30, Zara was dressed and working on her drawing while I headed back to the kitchen to oversee breakfast prep.
"Katrina, perfect timing." Boris gestured to the oven. "Check the sausages, yes? Tell me if they're done."
I opened the oven door, and the smell hit me like a physical blow. Greasy. Overwhelming. Wrong. My stomach lurched.
"I …" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "Excuse me …"
I barely made it to the staff bathroom before I was throwing up, heaving into the toilet until there was nothing left. What the hell? I hadn't eaten anything weird. Hadn't been sick. I felt fine yesterday.
"Katrina?" Elena knocked on the door. "You okay?"
"Fine," I called, flushing. "Something I ate, I think."
"Want me to get you some ginger ale?"
"I'm fine. Really." I rinsed my mouth at the sink, avoiding my reflection. “Can you go help Boris in the kitchen, please?"
I made it through breakfast prep, through the morning present exchange, watching from the edges as Zara played with the other children, through the chaos of people opening gifts and drinking champagne.
Then dinner prep started, and Chef Boris asked me to taste the stuffing.
The smell of sage and onions hit my nose, and I was running for the bathroom again. This time after I finished throwing up, I sat on the floor and forced myself to think. When was the last time I'd had my period? I'd been so busy, so stressed, so wrapped up in Olek that I'd barely noticed – Oh God.
My birth control. I'd been taking it. I had. Every morning. Except there had been a few mornings when I'd overslept. When I'd been so exhausted from nights with Olek that I'd forgotten until later. When I'd taken it at night instead. How many times? Three? Four? Enough. Oh God.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and checked the calendar. Six weeks since my last period. Weeks of him finishing inside me, over and over. Two weeks overdue.
No.
But my body was telling me yes. The nausea.
The missed period. The exhaustion I'd thought was from spending time with Olek.
I needed to know for sure. I waited until the afternoon, when everyone was occupied with pre-dinner activities.
Slipped out to the pharmacy three blocks away.
Bought three different pregnancy tests with cash.
The staff bathroom felt like a confessional as I locked the door and unwrapped the first test. Three minutes. That's all it took to confirm what I already knew. Pregnant. I took the second test. Positive. The third. Positive.
I sat on the closed toilet lid, staring at the three plastic sticks lined up on the counter, all showing the same result. Pregnant with Olek's baby. I was carrying his child. The man who'd told me he loved me this morning. The man I'd pushed away to protect my heart.
I pressed my hands to my face and tried to breathe. What the hell was I going to do?