Chapter 52
SIMA
Lilia’s eyelids are drooping by the time I finish feeding her. Cuteness overload.
I button up my blouse again and pick her up. “Have a good snack?” I coo in my cringiest baby voice.
I always hated it when people did that. It felt dumb. But guess who’s the biggest hypocrite in the whole wide world now?
“It’s Mommy,” I answer with the stupidest face I can muster. “Mommy’s the biggest hypocrite in the whole wide world. You don’t know what that word means yet, but that’s okay.” I pat her gently on the back.
Lilia burps, which feels like appropriate social commentary from a one-month old baby. Her tiny fingers curl around the edge of the blanket while I rock her gently in my arms.
The nursery is dim, bathed in the soft yellow glow from the nightlight. Everything smells like baby lotion, which is quickly becoming my favorite smell in the world. That, and Petyr’s mix of cedarwood and amber.
Lilia’s breathing evens out against my shoulder. It never gets old, being with her. Rocking her to sleep, murmuring nonsense into her cute little ears as her tiny chest rises and falls against mine. She’s a miracle. The prettiest, smartest baby anyone’s ever made.
I’m about to lay her in the crib when I hear a quiet knock on the doorframe.
Kira stands there, a tired smile on her face. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her makeup is smudged, just a little. “Hey,” she says softly. “Mind if I come in?”
“Be my guest.” I offer her the best smile I can muster. “She just went down.”
Kira steps closer. She looks down at Lilia with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s probably too exhausted for it. But she’s making an effort, and I’m grateful for it. “She’s growing so fast.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Feels like she changes every day. I want to freeze time.”
Kira looks amused. “I get that. She’s a gem, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.” I smile down at my baby. My heart feels so full these days, it’s almost hard to cope. “She’s everything.”
There’s a pause before Kira looks back at me. “Have you eaten yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I was going to wait for Petyr. He had a meeting, but he said he wouldn’t be too late.”
Kira nods. “That’s good.” She hesitates, then sighs. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Suddenly, I realize she probably didn’t come here to talk about Lilia.
Kira doesn’t ask for help. She never has.
Right. Kira’s proud. Petyr said so last night. Too proud to ask for help, even when she’s struggling.
But she came here tonight. Invited me to dinner. That’s probably Kira-speak for a cry for help, isn’t it?
“Kira.” She stops in the doorway when I call her. “Has something happened?”
Her hand trembles on the frame. Just slightly, but I notice. “I don’t want to burden you.”
“It’s no burden.” I walk up to her. “We’re family, right? No use hiding things from each other.”
For a second, I fear I’ve taken it too far. Kira might not be ready to bare her heart to me two days in a row, let alone share her secrets.
She stays silent. Shit. I’ve definitely come on too strong, haven’t I? “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “It’s none of my—”
“I’ve had a bad day.” It’s a surprise to hear her speak. “Dimitri… He had a setback. Nothing major, but it hit harder than I thought it would.” Her voice falters for a moment before she catches herself. “I could use someone to talk to.”
I hesitate. Lilia’s warm and heavy in my arms, and I was looking forward to just a quiet night.
But I promised myself I’d try harder with her. Petyr and I both agreed she needed more help. And maybe this is what that looks like.
“Let me just put her down,” I say softly.
Kira nods again, her relief small but visible.
Once Lilia’s in her crib and the blanket’s tucked around her, I turn back to Kira. “Alright. Let’s go.”
Her smile this time is a little more real. “Thank you, Sima.”
I grab my sweater from the back of the chair and follow her out of the nursery. The house is quiet at this hour. And for the first time, I’m not dreading being alone in it with Kira.
If she’s asking for my help, it means she’s finally letting someone in. That’s the first step toward helping her heal. Her, and us all.
As I follow Kira out of the nursery, though, a faint ache pulls at me. Lilia is sleeping soundly, but every instinct in me resists walking away from her. The house feels too big, too quiet, and the idea of leaving her alone—no matter how briefly—makes my stomach twist.
Still, Kira’s face told me everything I needed to know. She’s barely holding it together. If I tell her to wait until morning, she’ll just fold in on herself again.
I promised myself I’d try. Petyr would want me to. We both agreed she needed someone to lean on.
Besides, Petyr should be home soon. He said the meeting wouldn’t run late, and there’s an entire security team downstairs. Even if his night turned upside down for any reason, this is the safest house in the city.
I hope he’s safe, too. Wherever he is.
We reach the end of the hallway, and I pause outside the kitchen. “Give me a second,” I tell Kira. “I just want to check in with Anya.”
The housekeeper is wiping down the counters when I step in. She looks up, her usual expression somewhere between mild irritation and deep suspicion.
“Anya,” I say carefully. “Would you mind keeping an ear out for Lilia while I talk with Kira for a bit?”
Her frown softens the instant the baby’s name leaves my mouth. “Of course,” she says, her accent thick but kind for once.
“She just went down,” I say. “But if she wakes up—”
“I will be there.” Anya nods firmly. “You go. Talk. Miss Kira looks like she needs it.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. Lilia might be the only person in the house Anya doesn’t disapprove of, and by extension, the only reason I ever get a smile out of her.
I rejoin Kira in the hall. She’s waiting, arms crossed, eyes down. I can see the exhaustion in her posture, the heaviness she’s been carrying alone for too long.
“Ready?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah.”
Together, we head down the stairs toward the sitting room. The faint hum of the security monitors following us, a quiet reminder of the safety net around us.
Then Kira picks up her keys.
“What are you doing?” I blurt.
“I thought we’d go for a drive. Maybe grab a bite to eat.” She turns, surprised. “You don’t want to?”
“Drive?” I repeat. “You mean… out?”
“Well, yes. Unless you’d rather do donuts in the living room?”
She smiles as she says it, a little coy, a little teasing. That kind of humor from her is new to me. She’s never shown me her good sides before, except for the day I brought Lilia home. It makes it hard to say no.
“I’m not against it,” I mutter, even though I very much am. “But will it be safe?”
“Of course.” She nods, already pulling her coat off the rack. “We’ll just take a short drive. Get some air, grab food. I need to clear my head, and driving always helps.”
I hesitate. I want Kira to get what she needs, but leaving the house wasn’t part of my plan. “Is Luka coming with us?”
“He’ll be following behind,” she says without looking up.
I search for him with my gaze, but I don’t see him. He could already be in the SUV, though, or coming from the control room. Nothing weird about that.
Before I can question any of it, she’s already opening the front door and gesturing for me to follow.
The night air is cold. I pull my sweater tighter around me as I walk toward the car. Luka’s SUV sits idling near the gate, headlights on, and casts long shadows across the drive.
The sight relaxes me. So Luka is coming with us.
I step forward to go say hi, but Kira throws open the car door.
“Come on,” she says, and slips into the driver’s seat.
I get in on the passenger side, still uneasy. The engine hums to life, and we roll through the gate. Luka’s car follows a few lengths behind, steady and silent.
The first few minutes pass in near silence. The radio is off. The only sound is the low rumble of the tires over the road.
“So…” I break the silence. “Did you go to see Dimitri today?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Was he… alright?”
She doesn’t reply.
I wait a beat, then try again. “Petyr mentioned something about getting a live-in nurse. I hope I didn’t overstep by talking to him. You’d be okay with that, right?”
“Mm.”
I start to get a little nervous. Her monosyllabic answers aren’t helping. She said she wanted to talk, so why isn’t she?
That’s when I notice how stiff her body is. Her grip on the steering wheel is tight, her knuckles pale against the dark leather. I can’t tell if she’s angry, tired, or just somewhere far away.
Unease prickles at the base of my skull. The night outside looks too still, the road too empty. Something isn’t right.
“Kira,” I say finally, “maybe we should head back. It’s late, and—”
She doesn’t look at me. Her jaw flexes once before she says, “Just a little longer. The diner’s just up ahead.” She shoots me a strange smile. “Can’t go back on an empty stomach, right?”
The tone is calm, almost gentle. But it doesn’t soothe me.
I glance in the mirror. Luka’s headlights follow, unwavering, though I can’t see his face past the tinted windshield. My pulse kicks up a notch.
I try again, my voice steady but firm. “Kira. Please, turn us around. I’m really not comfortable leaving Lilia alone.”
Again, Kira doesn’t answer.
The silence between us thickens until it’s all I can hear. Streetlights blur past the windows, one after another, bright flashes through the dark.
I have no idea how long we stay like that, in the car, just driving on. Something’s wrong. That prickling sensation at the back of my neck is now a siren, blaring.
“Kira—”
“Hush. We’re almost there.”
The city lights grow closer on the horizon. We pass the first clusters of old warehouses, graffiti-scrawled and half collapsed.
“Almost where?”
No answer. Her knuckles stay white on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed ahead.
I glance at the side mirror. Luka’s car is still there, at a steady distance behind us. Every so often, the headlights flash across my reflection in the glass, but I still can’t see him.
We take an exit I don’t recognize. The road narrows, then winds through a strip of industrial land. Empty lots, cracked pavement, broken fences. Nothing but metal skeletons of forgotten buildings and the sound of our tires crunching over gravel.
When Kira finally slows the car, I know.
I fucked up.
I shouldn’t have gotten into the car with her. No—I shouldn’t have fucking trusted her. She hasn’t been kind to me a single day. Why the hell did I think she was suddenly going to change?
Finally, my brain kicks into gear. It was a trap, all of it. Her show of fragility yesterday and tonight. She was manipulating me, and I was so focused on making good with her that I didn’t let myself see it.
Fuck.
Two dark-colored sedans wait in the shadows ahead, lights off. Their outlines are barely visible until Kira kills our headlights, and the dim orange glow from a distant streetlamp hits their windshields.
“Kira,” I whisper, “what is this?”
“A surprise.” Finally, she smiles at me, but her eyes are cold. Empty. Like she’s finally done pretending.
My pulse jumps, but I force myself to stay calm. Panic won’t help. Kira clearly lied to me. Planned this from the start.
Every detail falls into place now.
That’s not Luka in the car behind us. I know it in my bones. And the fact that she insisted on going tonight, when Petyr wouldn’t be home—that feels staged, too.
I’ve been so fucking stupid.
I grip my seatbelt and try to think. I have to force myself to look composed while my mind races ahead. If I’ve got any chance of getting out of this alive, I need to keep my cool now. There’s no other way.
Then, finally, Kira opens the locks. “Come on,” she says as she kills the engine. “There’s someone here to see you. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, would you?”
Cold sweat breaks out at the back of my neck. Automatically, I reach for the handle and pull it.
Four men get out of the black sedans outside. It takes me a moment to recognize them.
But when I do, my blood runs cold.
“Kira,” I whisper, “what have you done?”
“Brought you back where you belong.” Her smile flashes. “Now, why don’t you go say hello to your daddy?”