Chapter 16
Ella
I close the door to Nora’s room gently, pausing for a moment to watch her steady breathing.
The puzzle box from Rory sits on her nightstand, waiting for tomorrow’s determined little fingers.
My heart aches with love for her, with the fierce protectiveness that has driven every decision I’ve made for the past eight years.
As I descend the stairs, the hush that falls over the great room is immediate and telling.
They’re all there, arranged in a loose semicircle around the fire, faces illuminated by the dancing flames and the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.
The festive scene is at odds with the gravity that weighs down the air.
“Ella,” Declan says, rising from his chair. “We need to talk.”
My body tenses instantly, adrenaline flooding my system. I’ve had nightmares that start exactly like this—being cornered, nowhere to run. “About what?”
“About Mikhail Petrova,” he says, and my world tilts sideways.
I grab the banister to steady myself, my knuckles going white. “What about him?” My voice sounds distant, like it belongs to someone else.
“I received a call last night,” Declan continues, his voice measured, careful. “From Russia. Someone who knows you’re here. Who knows about Nora?”
The room spins slightly. This is happening too fast. “That’s impossible,” I whisper, but even as I say it, I remember the figure at the tree lighting, the familiar silhouette that sent ice through my veins.
“Please,” Kane says, gesturing to an empty chair. “Sit. We just want to understand what we’re dealing with.”
I move to the chair mechanically, perching on its edge, ready to bolt—fight or flight. My instinct is always to flee when Nora’s safety is concerned.
“What exactly was Mikhail to you?” Declan asks, his eyes never leaving mine. “And where was his last known whereabouts?”
I stare into the fire, watching the flames consume a log. It crackles and spits, reminding me of another fire, another time. The weight of eight years of secrets presses on my chest.
“He’s dead,” I say flatly. “His yacht exploded off the coast of Cyprus eight years ago. There was nothing left to recover.”
“You sound very certain for someone who just looked like they saw a ghost,” Lana observes quietly.
I take a deep breath, looking up to meet their expectant faces. These people—my family—deserve the truth—or at least as much of it as I can bear to tell.
“Mikhail and I met when I was twenty-six,” I begin, the words feeling strange after so many years of silence.
“I’d been living in that remote cottage in Ireland since I was three.
Tomas had hidden me there after my mother died, with a rotating staff of nannies and tutors.
I barely knew who he was—just a man who visited occasionally, bringing gifts and speaking of dangers I didn’t understand. ”
“Jesus,” Rory mutters. “He kept you isolated during your entire childhood?”
I nod. “He said it was to protect me from my stepfather, Alexei Petrova. Apparently, after he discovered my mother’s affair with Tomas, he wanted revenge. Wanted control of the MacGallan fortune through me.”
“How?” Wren asks.
“By forcing a marriage between me and his son, Mikhail.” I twist my hands together, remembering. “A business merger of sorts, with me as the commodity.”
“But you said you met Mikhail,” Kori prompts gently. “How did that happen if you were hidden away?”
A bitter smile crosses my lips. “Ironically, through Tomas. He sent me to a private art exhibition in Dublin—a rare outing, heavily supervised. Mikhail was there. Neither of us knew who the other was at first.” I pause, memories washing over me.
“He was... charming. Intelligent. Nothing like the monster Tomas had described.”
“You fell for him,” Kat says, not a question.
“I did,” I admit, staring down at my hands. “We began meeting in secret. For months, neither of us revealed our true identities. I was Eleanor Shaw, an art student. He was Mikhail, a businessman with no last name. When I finally learned who he really was, it was too late. I was already in love.”
“And he felt the same?” Kane asks, skepticism evident in his voice.
I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “That’s what I believed. He said he didn’t share his father’s vendetta, that he wanted nothing to do with forced marriages or corporate takeovers. He wanted us to be together on our terms, not theirs.”
“But something changed,” Declan says, leaning forward.
I nod, swallowing hard. “I got pregnant. When I told Mikhail, he was... overjoyed. Said we should get married right away, before either of our fathers could interfere. I agreed. We planned to elope to Cyprus, where he kept a yacht.”
The room is utterly silent now, everyone hanging on my words. The fire pops loudly, making me flinch.
“The night before we were supposed to leave, I overheard him on the phone,” I continue, my voice dropping.
“Speaking Russian, which he didn’t know I understood.
He was talking to his father, saying everything was going according to plan.
That once we were married and the baby was born, they would have their leverage against Tomas.
That I was...” my voice breaks, “...exactly as naive as they’d hoped. ”
“Bastard,” Lana whispers.
“I confronted him. It was... ugly. He changed completely, like a mask falling away. Said I had no choice, that I belonged to him now, especially carrying his child.” I shudder at the memory.
“I managed to get away, to call Tomas. For once in his life, he actually came through. Got me out that night, brought me to Canada, to this place.”
“And Mikhail?” Declan presses. “What happened to him?”
“Three months later, his yacht exploded in the Mediterranean. No survivors.” I look up, meeting Declan’s eyes directly. “At least, that’s what Tomas told me. He showed me news reports and official statements. I believed him. I had to believe him.”
“But now you’re not so sure,” Kane says.
I shake my head slowly. “At the tree lighting, I saw someone. Just a glimpse, but...” I take a shaky breath. “It could have been him. The way he moved, his build. I told myself I was imagining things.”
“The caller,” Declan says carefully, “mentioned St. Petersburg. Said to ask you what really happened the night you ran.”
A chill runs through me. Only one person besides Tomas knew about that night. “What exactly did they say?”
“That you’re not who you seem. That we should ask about St. Petersburg.”
I close my eyes, memories crashing over me like waves. The ornate hotel suite. The argument. The gun. The blood.
“St. Petersburg was where Mikhail took me, two weeks before I found out who he really was,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “We stayed at the Astoria Hotel. It was... a good memory, until it wasn’t.”
It’s not the whole truth. Not even close. But some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with family.
“If Mikhail is alive,” Connor says, breaking his thoughtful silence, “and if he’s found you here, what does he want?”
“What he’s always wanted,” I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. “Control. Power. And now, Nora.”
“Well, he can’t have any of that,” Kane states flatly. “Not while we’re here.”
I look around at their determined faces, these siblings I barely know, who are ready to stand between my daughter and danger. Gratitude mingles with fear in my chest.
“You don’t understand what he’s capable of,” I warn them. “If it really is him, if he’s found us after all this time...”
“Then we deal with it together,” Declan interrupts firmly. “You’re not alone anymore, Ella. Whatever’s coming, we face it as a family.”
Family. The word still feels foreign, too good to be true. “I should take Nora and go,” I say, even as something in me rebels against the thought of running again. “Disappear before he gets any closer.”
“And go where?” Wren challenges gently. “Keep running forever? That’s not a life, Ella, for you or for Nora.”
She’s right, of course. I’m tired of running, tired of looking over my shoulder. Tired of denying Nora the stability and connections every child deserves.
“We need a plan,” I concede finally. “If it is him—if Mikhail is alive and has found us—we need to be prepared.”
“First, we need confirmation,” Declan says, slipping easily into strategist mode. “I have contacts who can look into the yacht explosion, see if there was ever a body recovered.”
“And we increase security here,” Kane adds. “No one gets within a mile of this place without us knowing about it.”
“What about Nora?” I ask the question that matters most. “She can’t know any of this. I won’t have her afraid in her own home.”
“She won’t be,” Kori promises. “As far as she’s concerned, this is still just Christmas with her new family.”
I nod, gratitude and exhaustion washing over me in equal measure. “There’s more I should tell you,” I admit. “About St. Petersburg. About what really happened. But not tonight. I can’t... not tonight.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Declan says, understanding in his eyes. “We’ll be here.”
As the others begin discussing security measures and investigation tactics, I find myself staring at the Christmas tree, at the small star ornament Nora and I made during our first holiday in hiding. It glitters in the firelight, beautiful and fragile, like the life we’ve built here.
If Mikhail has found us, then our lives are in danger. But for the first time, I’m not facing the threat alone. I have a family now—stubborn, complicated, determined people with MacGallan blood in their veins and steel in their spines.
Maybe, just maybe, that will be enough.