Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Isabelle
Michael: Hey Izzy, sorry I can’t make dinner tonight. Something came up that I can’t move around. Maybe we can reschedule for another time.
I lean against my kitchen counter and stare at the text that just came in from Michael.
My shoulders slump and I breathe out a ragged sigh. Looks like I’ll spend another night in front of the TV. Thanks, Kade, you asshole.
I wonder what Kade said to him. Michael didn’t look like the kind of guy you could threaten easily. But maybe it’s like I thought. No one wants trouble with the Ivanov elite. I guess I wasn’t worth the risk or the trouble.
At least Michael didn’t lie about what the something that came up was, like all the other guys. And he called me Izzy. He got that from Thorne. He’s the only one who calls me that.
Michael was sweet to offer a reschedule, but I know the drill. The other guys said that, too, and of course there was never a follow-up text.
When I saw them after that they all acted as if nothing ever happened and like I was supposed to take the hint that they were no longer interested in dating me.
At first it was jarring, until I found out Kade was behind it. Up until today I had no real confirmation, only what I’d been told.
Now I’ve witnessed Kade’s assholery for myself and I’m even madder than I was before.
Quickly I text Michael back: Sure, we can reschedule. Have a great night.
He doesn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to.
It’s five. Michael and I were supposed to meet at eight. Because I knew the date wouldn’t be happening I didn’t even bother to pick out a dress and I ate already while I was out with Mackenzie.
Part of me is angry that Kade struck again, but the other part of me that’s still stunned from his behavior this morning has overpowered everything else.
His behavior was bizarre. I can’t wrap my head around it. He’s gone from one extreme to another with no in-between.
I don’t know what to expect from him next, and I don’t know what to do. I tried to defend myself earlier. I tried to do it the other night, too, when he and his friends ambushed me. But when I’m around him it’s clear that I’m out of my depth. I feel like a mouse trying to fight the lion.
And what the hell happened to me today?
Was I seriously going to let him kiss me?
It bothers me that I just slipped into my old self and never thought to fight back when it mattered.
It’s clear that I’m still attracted to Kade. Still affected by him. And what’s worse is I can’t forget all those things he said to me.
He said I belonged to him. There was no mistaking the sexual connotation behind those words but I also felt the threat clinging to every word he spoke.
You can’t trust someone like that. Kade is too volatile and unstable. The more I know about him, the more I realize that I need to be careful.
The sudden ring of my phone makes me jump.
Shit. I’m so paranoid, next I’ll be scared of my own shadow.
It’s my father. Seeing his name flash on the screen brings a smile to my face and I answer the phone.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hello, Printsessa . Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Not at all.”
I move to the living room and sink into the sofa, pressing the phone to my ear.
“I just wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow. I’m sure the Lord Chancellor will approve everything and you’ll be fine.”
Bless my father’s heart. He sounds like he’s doing his best to sound cheerful and supportive but I know he doesn’t want me to go away to Cambridge.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Your sculpture looked amazing.” There’s a smile in his voice. I sent him a picture of it this morning before I went to the stadium. “Your mother would have been proud.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that.”
“You know it’s the truth. While I have mixed emotions about you going to England, I know you’re going to ace it. I’ve arranged time off so I can take you over there.”
Hope sparks my heart. “Really? You’ll come with me?”
“Yes, baby girl. I’ll stay out there for two weeks getting you set up. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
“I would love that. I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. You’re going to be just fine.”
We talk some more about what’s going on with him. He cracks his usual jokes about the women at his office who keep asking him out. Even though I laugh, I always note that he never agrees to go on a date.
I asked him once if he would ever remarry and he flat out said no. I know my mother was his soulmate and losing her still affects him.
We talk for an hour before we say goodbye.
I decide on an early night because I’ve had so little sleep from going to the studio early every morning to work on my sculpture.
Now that it’s done I can sleep in and hopefully rid Kade from my mind.
I need all the clarity I can get for my interview tomorrow, but when my head touches my pillow, sleep doesn’t come.
Kade doesn’t haunt me tonight. Instead it’s the ghost of my mother. Memories of her fill my mind. Memories of that dreadful night.
From time to time this happens and I imagine my mother stuck in limbo, waiting for me to find the truth so she can cross over in peace to the other side.
I toss and turn, and still I can’t sleep.
I keep remembering everything that happened that night. How I knew she was in trouble and that something terrible was going to happen.
I wasn’t supposed to be with her. That was an accident.
She’d just come home from work when she got a phone call. That would have come from that asshole Parker Federov. I was in my room doing my homework and she was downstairs, but I could hear the panic in her raised voice. Then she came running upstairs and told me we had to leave because we were in danger.
Dad was away on business, so we had to take care of ourselves.
We got in her car and drove to the warehouse on the docks. I tried to ask my mother what was going on but she kept saying she’d tell me when we were safe.
Everything changed once we got to the warehouse and realized someone had followed us there. A man with a gun—the man who killed her.
I still remember the look of defeat in Mom’s eyes. I saw it the moment she accepted that we couldn’t escape. Not we, just her. The man hadn’t seen me, so Mom told me to hide.
“Hide and don’t come out, no matter what you see or hear,” she said.
And that was it. That was the last thing she said to me. I watched her die from my hiding place and in my twelve-year-old mind, I knew that I couldn’t do anything to help her.
I also knew that if I did, the man— and the other guy with him —would have killed me, too, and her sacrifice would have been for nothing.
I carry the story in my heart every day. The events of that night are never far from my mind even though people know me for my sunny personality.
They don’t know that I smile most when I’m missing my mother. Happiness is how I remember.
Mom always told me the world is different when you put a smile on your face. She said that it was the times when I was feeling most sad that I should laugh and love the ones I loved just a little more than I already did.
That was my mom’s wisdom and what she was like herself. No wonder my father never got over her. There is no one like her.
Memories, bad and good, spin through my mind like a carousel. Eventually I drift off to sleep. But the last thing I see in my mind when the memories stop spinning is Kade’s face and his haunting words come back to me.
All of them.
“My lord,” I acknowledge the Chancellor and bow my head respectfully.
“Welcome, Isabelle. Come in and take a seat.” Chancellor Potalov smiles at me and points to the chair in front of his glossy walnut desk.
I walk into his office and sit, admiring the old books on the shelves, the scent of polished mahogany, and wallpapered walls lined with evidence of a life dedicated to scholarly pursuits.
With his white, wispy hair, finely-tailored suit, and meticulously groomed beard, Chancellor Potalov has always reminded me of what I imagine to be a good version of President Snow in The Hunger Games .
“Thank you so much for your time, my lord.” I smile back, feeling better than I thought I would, given the fact that I had very little sleep. “I’m really grateful that you were able to fit me in, with your upcoming retirement.”
“Of course. I felt I was the best person to conduct your interview. I also don’t think your mother would forgive me if I didn’t try to fit you in.”
That makes me smile wider and warms my heart. My mother was one of his favorite students. When Mom sold me the vision of Raventhorn, she included him. Chancellor Potalov is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
“Mom always spoke highly of you.” I’ve told him that before, but it feels fitting to say it again.
His pale gray eyes light up. “That’s good to hear, dear. Your mother was and still is to this day one of my favorite students.” Pride and adoration give more life to his voice. “It’s interesting that I wrote her recommendation letter for Central St. Martins in England and now I’m about to hand you over to Cambridge.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I must admit it was easier to let her go because she was about to graduate. I’ve barely had the chance to know you, but I guess that’s not a problem as I’ll be leaving, too. But I do hope Raventhorn didn’t let you down.”
I take in the wisdom in his eyes along with the wealth of concern for me there. I imagine that this must be strange for him because the transfer rate here is so low it’s practically non-existent.
“No, Raventhorn hasn’t let me down.”
“That’s reassuring to hear. It will be sad to lose you to Cambridge, Isabelle Kolyav, but I know Christian Degas will be gaining one of the finest artists in this world.”
“Thank you so much for your kind words. Does that mean I have your approval?”
“Absolutely. I don’t think we need to do a full interview.”
Wow, finally something easy.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No. I think I’ve sorted out everything on my end.” I’d emailed him this morning to confirm that the sculpture is all done, so there really is nothing left to do.
“Perfect. I’ll arrange for the liaison to schedule the review for Monday morning. Until then just make sure everything is in order. If you have any questions between now and then you know where to find me.”
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“It’s my pleasure. Good luck, Isabelle. I wish you all the success in the world.”
“Thanks, my lord.” I bow my head again and leave, grateful for the brevity of the interview.
I’m exhausted. And now I’m relieved.
Since I don’t have anything more to do today, I decide to head to the art studio and do all my final checks. I checked everything already yesterday but it couldn’t hurt to do one last review. Then maybe I’ll see what the girls are up to after.
I reach the studio within fifteen minutes. There are a few students inside talking with the TA, so I wave to them before I head to my workshop.
Just before I reach the door I notice that it’s ajar and my stomach squeezes.
I locked that door yesterday. I know I did. I wouldn’t have left it open with my sculpture inside. The janitor wouldn’t have gone inside either. They know not to enter a workshop if the door is locked. It becomes a do-not-disturb zone and as out of bounds as a crime scene.
I push the door open and walk inside.
Two steps in I stop short, everything inside me shattering when I see that the head and torso of my sculpture are on the floor, smashed to pieces.
My hands fly up to my cheeks and the air leaves my lungs. Tears instantly pull at the back of my eyes and I feel weak.
The room starts spinning and my legs shake so badly I have to grab on to the edge of the table to keep myself from falling over.
“Oh my God.” The words whoosh out of me like air and I feel sick.
Someone did this.
Who the hell could have done this?
Wait…
I straighten as the answer dawns on me, shooting through my brain like a meteor shower.
Really, Isabelle? Did you actually have to ask?
Who hates me this much?
Kade.
Kade Gurkovsky, that motherfucking asshole, hates me so much that he would wreck my life’s work and fuck up my chances to go to Cambridge.
The clear thought dancing around in my mind makes me see red. Fiery streaks of red. The kind psychos talk about seeing before they go on a murderous rampage.
Enough is enough.
Kade is going to pay for this.