44. Forty-Four #2
“And me?” I scoffed. “What am I to you? Another chess piece? Another sacrifice when I become inconvenient?”
My father’s expression softened slightly, an unfamiliar look crossing his face. For a moment, I glimpsed something almost like regret in his eyes.
“You were never supposed to be part of this world,” he said, his voice lower now.
“Your mother wanted better for you. College, a normal life, away from all this.” He gestured vaguely at the room, at the armed guards outside, at the entire bloody empire he’d built.
“But you’re too much like me. Too stubborn. Too proud.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re my daughter,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “My blood. The only family I have left.”
“Family?” I laughed bitterly. “Family is just a word to you. You’ve spent my entire life treating me like a burden, a reminder of mom that you couldn’t stand to look at.”
His jaw tightened. “I protected you. Every decision I made was to keep you safe.”
“Oh, fuck you.” I scoffed. “How have you kept me safe?”
“By placing you in a position of power,” he replied, his voice hardening. “By ensuring that when the dust settles, you’ll be standing beside the victor.”
I stared at him, understanding dawning. “You never expected this marriage to last. You thought the Romanovs would implode, and I’d be positioned to take control of what remained.”
My father’s smile was cold. “You always were smarter than Luca.”
The casual cruelty of the comparison made my stomach turn. I stepped back, putting distance between us.
“I’m marrying Arrow in three hours,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “And whatever game you’re playing, I won’t be your pawn anymore.”
“You think you love him,” my father said, his tone dripping with contempt. “That animal who branded you like cattle. Who parades you around with his initial around your neck.”
I touched the A pendant reflexively. “He’s never pretended to be anything other than what he is. Unlike you.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “You think you know him? You think a few weeks in his bed gives you insight into what he’s capable of?
” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Ask yourself this, Harlowe,” he continued.
“If Arrow Romanov is the honorable man you believe him to be, why hasn’t he told you about the night your mother died? ”
I felt as though I’d been slapped. “What are you talking about?”
My father’s smile was cruel, triumphant. “He hasn’t told you, has he? Ask your future husband where he was the night your mother took her last breath. Ask him what part the Romanovs played in her death.”
“You’re lying,” I whispered, but doubt had already taken root, spreading like poison through my veins. “Mom killed herself.”
“With help,” my father said, his voice soft with false sympathy.
“Get out,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “Get out before I call Frank in here to remove you.”
My father straightened his already perfect tie, his composure regained.
“I’ll see you at the cathedral. When you walk down that aisle, remember who you are.
Remember whose blood runs in your veins.
” He moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at me.
“And when the truth about your mother comes out—and it will—remember who warned you.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click, but the damage was already done. My hands trembled as I sank back into the chair, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at me seemed suddenly unfamiliar—half-finished, vulnerable, eyes wide with shock and doubt.
Luna burst in moments later, her face tight with concern. “What happened? What did he say to you?”
I couldn’t form the words, couldn’t give voice to the terrible suspicion my father had planted. I shook my head, forcing my breathing to slow, my hands to steady.
“Nothing that matters,” I lied, meeting Luna’s eyes in the mirror. “Just more manipulation. More games.”
She didn’t believe me—I could see it in her eyes—but she didn’t push. Instead, she called the stylists back in, and the preparations resumed. As they finished my hair and makeup, I felt myself retreating behind a wall of ice, my mind racing with my father’s words.
Ask him what part the Romanovs played in her death.
The words echoed in my mind as I stared at my reflection, now fully transformed into a bride. My dress hung nearby—a masterpiece of ivory silk and delicate lace that would make me look like something out of a dark fairytale. But my father’s revelation had cast a shadow over everything.
“Harlowe?” Luna’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “It’s time to get you into your dress.”
I nodded mechanically, rising from the chair. The stylists fluttered around me like anxious birds, helping me step into the gown. The weight of it settled on my shoulders as they fastened the countless tiny buttons down my spine. When they finished, they stepped back, and I faced the mirror.
The dress hugged my curves, the delicate lace overlay creating patterns of light and shadow across the silk. My hair fell in loose waves down my back, white flowers woven through the dark strands like stars in a night sky. Around my neck, Arrow’s initial glinted in the light.
“You look breathtaking,” Luna whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
I touched the A at my throat, my father’s words still poisoning my thoughts. “Did Atlas ever tell you about my mother’s death?”
Luna’s expression shifted, confusion replacing admiration. “Your mother? I thought she—“
“Killed herself,” I finished for her. “That’s what everyone believes. What I believed.” I turned to face her directly. “My father just implied the Romanovs were involved somehow. That Arrow knows something about it.”
Luna’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. “Giovanni is desperate. He’s trying to drive a wedge between you and Arrow on your wedding day.”
“But why this particular lie? Why now? He agreed to this wedding, and now he’s trying to stop it!” I pulled away, pacing the small confines of the preparation room. “He could have said anything to try to stop this wedding. Why bring up my mother?”
Luna watched me with growing concern. “What are you thinking, Harlowe?”
I stopped pacing, my decision was made. “I need to speak with Arrow. Now.”
“You can’t,” Luna protested. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.”
I laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “In our world, ‘bad luck’ is the least of our concerns.”
Luna stepped closer, her hands gripping my shoulders gently. “Listen to me. Your father is playing games. He sees that you’ve chosen Arrow, that his plan to use you as a spy has failed. He’s desperate, and desperate men will say anything.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I need to hear it from Arrow. I need to look him in the eyes when I ask about my mother.”
Luna sighed, recognizing the determination in my voice. “Alright. I’ll call Atlas, but at least take your dress off, so something surprises him when you walk down that aisle. But Harlowe—” she gripped my hands tightly, “—don’t let Giovanni destroy what you and Arrow have built.”
Ten minutes later, my dress was back on the mannequin, I was back into my Mrs. Romanov robe, and the stylists had put a silk head covering over my hair to hide the work they’d done.
“Arrow’s on his way,” Luna said, checking her phone. “I’ll go check in with Atlas while you guys chat.” She gave me a small smile before leaving the room.