Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Polina
Little Zoya does her best to bring ease to the tension in the room. “May I bring some tea and refreshments?” she asks Rafail, who begrudgingly allows her with a nod. She’s at home in the kitchen and wants to play the part of hostess.
He has his work cut out for him, and I know this. We also have unresolved conflict we need to deal with. Still, I don’t know what to do first. I look around the room, half-bewildered, as Rafail issues commands and makes calls as my brothers’ cars pull up to the curb.
“It’ll be alright.” I look to see Grandfather sitting in one of the upholstered chairs, his gnarled hand gripping the top of his cane. “Stay strong.”
I nod and lift my head. I will.
When my brothers enter the room, however, I move without thinking. I run to them. For once, I feel like a little girl again—safe, loved, and protected. These are my brothers, my flesh and blood.
How will I ever choose between the family who raised me and the one I’ve come to love here?
Mikhail’s arms are wide as I launch into his bear-like hug. My oldest brother, my protector. We have always been close, even when we fought like cats and dogs as kids. Now, in his arms, I feel like a part of me that was missing has returned.
“God, we were so scared,” he says in my ear. “I felt so guilty for allowing you to come here and then knowing you were gone. Polina, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you’re alright.” He holds me in front of him. “You’ll tell us the truth about how he treated you?”
I nod. “I am. Oh god, I’ve missed you all so much.”
I’m crying freely by the time Lev hugs me. Ollie comes in to join us, and in seconds, I’m a blubbering mess, and we all try to talk at once. Viktor can practically put his arms around all of us, but it’s a crying, messy, sniffy reunion. We’re all talking at once.
“I couldn’t remember you,” I sniff, swiping at my eyes. “I didn’t know who I was, and they told me I’d remember you, but—”
“—couldn't find you. Looked everywhere. Scoured Russia until—”
“—beside ourselves.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” It’s Mikhail, who’s pried the others off me and now holds me at arm’s length, his eyes boring into mine. Speaking in a low tone, he leans in close. “We don’t have much time, Polina. Did he hurt you?”
Did he hurt me?
How do I answer that question?
Did he tie me to his bed and lie to me, telling me I was his wife and I’d taken vows?
Yes.
Did he dominate me, force obedience from me, and make good on punishing me when I pushed back?
He did.
I swallow hard.
Did he show me he loved me? Did he prove himself to be authentic and real and so absolutely devoted he’d burn the world for me?
He did.
So I give Mikhail a watery smile. “Hurt me? It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” And when Mikhail’s eyes narrow on me, I state the argument he can’t defeat. “He did nothing you wouldn’t have done, Mikhail. Nothing any of you wouldn’t have done.”
Mikhail, my fierce and protective warrior of a brother, who tethered his own wife to him as a form of punishment for hacking into the Bratva of The Cove.
Aleksandr, madly in love and father to the children of his own wife, promised to him in a loveless union of an arranged marriage.
I could go on because each one of them could tell a similar story of an unlikely union, family loyalty, and love despite the odds.
My mother enters the room. She stares at me for a few seconds as if she can’t believe her eyes before she rushes to me. The familiar warmth of her embrace makes something deep inside me unravel.
Mom.
I fit here. I belong here. It’s as familiar to me as my own two hands being held by her.
Mom.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m partly to blame for all this, and I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.”
I wipe at my eyes. “I think there’s a lot of forgiveness that will have to be granted.”
But how is she possibly to blame?
The tension in the room is palpable, but we’re closer to the truth than we’ve ever been.
“Sit down, everyone, please,” Zoya says softly in her childlike voice as she enters the room carrying a large tray of tea and cups. “I find it’s easier to have a pleasant conversation when we’re sitting.”
I love her so. Rafail takes the tray from her despite her protests and slides it onto the coffee table. “Semyon. Get the vodka for those of us who need something stronger than tea.”
“You’re wise, Zoya,” Grandfather says, his eyes twinkling at her. “You have more than your parents to thank for that.”
She’s so cute when she blushes.
Yana sits up straight, her eyes never leaving Rafail. “Where’s Gleb?”
“In holding.”
Yana nods and turns her focus straight to Ekaterina. “As I said to the others, there’s a shortage of women in these two families, so we must stand together. Allow me to make some introductions.”
I barely hear her. My gaze is trained on Rafail, who paces behind the sofa despite Zoya’s request. His friend Vadka has joined us.
“Before we begin,” my mother starts. She places her teacup down on a saucer, her hands trembling. “I’m afraid that some of this… is my fault.” Her eyes shimmering with tears, she turns to me. “I… I wanted a daughter, Polina. So badly.”
I stare at her, bewildered. I knew I was adopted, but I never knew the terms of the adoption.
“I begged your father for a daughter, and after years of waiting, he finally granted my wish. He was reluctant, you know—daughters hold a different meaning in our world. Sons bring strength, alliances, power. That’s why we have six of them.
All adopted, yet all bound by loyalty. Then, one day, he brought me you.
” She smiles, but her eyes reflect a sadness from long ago.
My throat feels tight, and my nose tingles, but I listen as calmly as I can.
“I didn’t know until ten years later that you had a sister.
That you were separated in infancy. Another family adopted Anissa and took her as their own.
It was a closed adoption, and they made it clear they wanted no one to ever contact them again.
” She shakes her head. “But I knew your father was powerful and above all that. I knew he could’ve found out what he needed to. ”
I stare, trying to process what she’s telling me. I haven’t had time to truly dwell on this since Gleb mentioned someone who looked just like me, and now my own mother is admitting as much.
I have a sister.
A sister who was supposed to marry the man who I’m in love with.
A sister who looks just like me and is presumably alive if she ran from him not that long ago. Who is she? Does she remember me? I don’t remember her, but my heart aches thinking there’s someone out there I’m related to who I’ve never met.
Jesus, I’m gonna need some therapy after all of this shit.
Zoya meets my eyes and swallows hard before giving me a tentative smile. This sweet girl has lost both her parents, was raised into near adulthood by her brother, and knows her family lives on a razor’s edge. And still, she hasn’t forgotten how to smile.
She’s inspiring.
We all listen in rapt silence. Even Mikhail looks shocked. He didn’t know.
She clears her throat. “So I never told you, Polina. I feared you’d want to find her, and I feared the wrath of her family if you did.” Sighing, she continues. “I let fear guide my decisions, and for that, I’m so sorry and ask your forgiveness.”
My god. What other secrets is she hiding?
With a sigh, she continues. “And our family was weakened. With the divide that tore us apart after your father’s death, Mikhail was on a mission to strengthen us.
We made strategic choices. I never imagined that bringing you to Moscow would have put you in danger. I was trying to do the very opposite.”
Rafail watches in stony silence, his gaze fixed on my mother. I feel the rift between us as painfully as I felt the ache in my bones after the accident. I close my eyes and remind myself I overcame that then. I can overcome this now.
Zoya hands me a cup of bracing hot tea. I nod in thanks, not trusting my voice, and take a sip.
It helps.
“And when I brought you here, I thought I could keep you safe. I have friends in Moscow,” she explains to Rafail. “And I feared the attack of Soloto.”
Nodding, he listens in stoic silence.
“And then… when I heard you were gone,” she says in a voice that wavers, on the brink of breaking down. “Witnesses said you were hit by a car. I feared the worst. We thought—” She clasps a hand to her mouth.
“We thought one of our enemies killed you,” Mikhail says with a deep sigh. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of their fear and worry. “But we had no evidence. No body. No witnesses who saw them bury you.”
I can’t imagine the pain they all went through, not knowing, fearing…
“But we kept hope,” my mother continues. “We hoped you’d only been… taken.” Her eyes flutter closed as I realize she’s spent the last month battling her greatest fears: I’d either been killed, or I’d been stolen and used.
Rafail shakes his head. “I had no idea.” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”
Zoya nods, her eyes wide and fearful. “I can promise you, he’s telling you the truth. He didn’t know; he truly thought Polina was Anissa.”
“The woman who betrayed us,” Rodion clarifies with cold decision. “She jilted him at the altar after she was promised to him. When we found An—Polina, we truly thought she was someone else.”
“Gleb wanted us to think that,” Semyon says, shaking his head. “And when we found out she had amnesia, we thought…”
“No,” Rafail cuts in. “When I found out she had amnesia. I won’t let anyone else take responsibility for my decisions.
” He turns to me. “When I saw you that day, and you ran from me, I thought you were running from a man you knew. I had no idea I was a stranger to you.” He curses under his breath, shaking his head.