35. Cathy
35
CATHY
A nya looks at me with her steady, knowing gaze as I emerge from the bathroom. I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “Anya, I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, then her face softens, her hands reaching out to hold mine. Her fingers are warm, steadying me as the reality settles in, and I feel the weight of my own words.
“Oh, Cathy,” she says, her voice thick with sympathy. She squeezes my hand, offering comfort without asking questions, without judgment. The kindness in her touch almost makes me break down right here. “That’s wonderful news.”
“But how can I bring a child into this?” My words rush out, and I don’t hold anything back. “How can I raise a baby with someone like Ivan? He’s so intense, so angry. I don’t know if I can do this with him.”
Anya stays silent, listening, her expression deeply empathetic, but with a hint of something else—something almost sad. “Ivan’s anger... it’s real, yes, but it’s not as simple as you think, Cathy,” she says, her voice soft yet firm.
I hesitate, sensing she’s about to share something heavy. “What do you mean?”
Anya glances away, as if gathering her thoughts, and when she speaks, there’s a faraway look in her eyes. “Ivan didn’t always carry this weight,” she begins. “He was so different once—gentler, protective. After Sofia passed, he clung to Elena. She was his light, his only family.” She pauses, and the sorrow in her voice is palpable. “But that light was taken from him in the worst way.”
A chill runs down my spine as I listen, but I’m not prepared for what she says next.
“Jimmy Holland destroyed her.”
The words sink in slowly, reluctantly. I stare back at Anya. “Jimmy? As in my ex-fiancé?”
She nods. “He met her while she was traveling. Hooked her in but he had no idea who she was related to. She kept that part quiet, wanted to stand on her own two feet. Jimmy manipulated her, used her, and made her think she was nothing. She handed over all her money. She was so ashamed of what she’d done, she took her own life rather than ask for help from her family.”
She sighs. “Pride can kill. Such a shame. Ivan blamed himself of course.”
Images of Jimmy flash through my mind—the charming smile, the sly glint in his eyes whenever he talked about that “unstable ex.” I’d always brushed it off as another one of his manipulations, but now… now I see the truth. He was talking about Ivan’s sister. My head spins as I try to piece it all together, to understand the depth of what Anya’s saying.
She continues. “Ivan swore he’d make Jimmy pay for every single thing he’d done. Started following him, getting ready to snatch him. But then he spotted you and everything changed.”
I groan. “And Jimmy only got his claws on me because he found out about who my father was.”
“My guess is Elena let slip that Robert had a daughter out there somewhere. It wouldn’t be impossible for a man like Jimmy to fill in the missing pieces. A husband gets to share the inheritance of his wife.”
“Then he kills her.”
“Precisely.”
I feel the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest, each piece of this story sinking in like a stone. My mind races as I piece it all together. This marriage—it wasn’t about my inheritance. It wasn’t about me, not really. It was about revenge.
Ivan married me to get to Jimmy. The truth is even darker than I’d imagined. He doesn’t care about me or the money. Only about revenge.
I stare at Anya, my heart pounding as I muster the courage to ask, “Please, Anya, let me out. I need to talk to him about all this.”
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, sensing the desperation in my voice. “Cathy, I’m not sure this is the right time,” she says softly, but her hand drifts to the door as if she might consider it.
Just as she’s about to open it, a blaring alarm shatters the silence, piercing through the thick walls and echoing down the corridor.
Red lights begin flashing, casting an eerie glow over everything, and I hear the sound of boots pounding against the marble floors. Men are shouting, rushing toward the source of the alarm.
Anya’s hand tightens on my arm. “Stay close,” she murmurs urgently, and we slip out of the room together, joining the crowd of guards streaming down the hall.
Adrenaline surges through me as we make our way to the courtyard, the ominous flashing lights making every corner look like a shadowy threat.
When we reach the courtyard, I freeze. Chaos surrounds us, guards shouting commands, some of them pointing weapons toward a breach in the boundary wall.
There, lying on the ground, I see Nik, his hand pressed to his side, blood staining his shirt. His face is pale, his eyes clouded with pain, and Ivan kneels beside him, his face hard as stone, one hand gripping Nik’s shoulder.
Anya pulls me back as I instinctively start to step forward. “Stay back, Cathy,” she whispers, her hand steady but her voice betraying a trace of fear.
I can’t take my eyes off Ivan, though. His hands are firm, steady, as he murmurs something low and reassuring to Nik, his expression one of quiet fury and concern.
I never imagined Ivan could look so gentle. He holds Nik as if he were something precious, a loyalty and respect in his touch that catches me completely off guard.
“I’m okay, Ivan. Just a scratch,” Nik mutters through gritted teeth, trying to play down the injury, but Ivan’s face tightens further.
“Don’t try to be a hero,” Ivan replies, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ll live. We’ll make sure of it.” He turns to the guards, his voice like ice as he orders, “Get the medic team out here now.” His tone is unyielding, his authority absolute.
My gaze shifts to the jagged hole in the wall. And then I see it: my old car, parked right beyond the boundary. It’s a message, clear as day. Whoever brought the bomb brought it in my car.
Jimmy.
I spot an envelope under the windshield wiper. I pick it up only for Ivan to snatch it from me. He opens it, his face darkening as he reads the message inside.
Ivan’s voice is filled with a deadly calm as he reads aloud, “Give me back my girl, or you all burn.”