Chapter 22
ELLE
Since my mother loves making things inconvenient for everyone around her, I decided that when she's on my turf, I'm not bending over backward.
"You sure we shouldn't change?" Natalia looks skeptical. We're lounging in the living room, towels around our waists, bikinis still half-wet.
"Nope. It's not our fault she didn't call ahead." I'm cool as a cat on the outside, even though I'm a nervous wreck within. I haven't spoken to my mother since the wedding.
What the hell does she want? With Gayle, it's never just a visit.
Then we hear the footsteps. The heavy boots of the guards, and the click of her heels: a warning siren before landfall.
I sit up straighter just as she walks in.
Gayle Donovan. My mother. My personal hurricane.
She doesn't step into the room so much as arrive. All sharp angles and sharper perfume. Natalia and I share a look that translates roughly to holy hell, brace for impact.
"Darling," Gayle purrs. Voice dripping with disapproval. "Still allergic to real clothes, I see."
She removes sunglasses that could double as a riot shield and flicks her gaze down our sarongs like she's inspecting a crime scene. I'd forgotten how small my mother makes me feel.
She hasn't changed a bit. Still looks like she's posing for a "Rich Bitch Monthly" cover in that all-white outfit. Though something's different. The outfit is perfect, but her jaw is tighter than usual. Her eyes harder. Like she's running on something other than confidence today.
I could take the bait. Beg for approval. Throw up an excuse. God knows I used to. But I'm too tired for that game now.
"We were by the pool," I say. "Sorry for not rolling out the red carpet."
"Don't apologize," Natalia murmurs beside me. Her presence is the human equivalent of grounding wires, keeping me from blowing a fuse.
Gayle doesn't glance at her. "We have business to discuss. Alone."
I cross my legs. "We don't have any business. And she stays."
For a moment, Gayle looks genuinely offended. Like I brought a commoner to a royal banquet. "Who is she?"
"My friend." I let the word hang because it's true and because I want it to sting. "You remember friends, right? The people you can't buy?"
Gayle sets her purse on the table. "This isn't appropriate."
"You're in my house. So you don't get to decide what's appropriate."
That earns me a raised eyebrow, her version of a slap. "So this is how you talk to your mother now?"
"No. This is how I talk to uninvited guests."
Natalia makes a tiny sound that might be a laugh, quickly converted to a cough.
Gayle exhales through her nose. Narrows her eyes. "There's a matter regarding your trust."
My stomach tightens. "My what?"
"Your trust fund. It still falls under my oversight until you're thirty, and since certain agreements weren't honored, the terms must change."
"What agreements?"
"You were supposed to marry Egor. That was the deal."
The words crash through my brain. "I never agreed to that. You did."
Gayle waves a dismissive hand. "It would have benefited us both. His family was prepared to invest heavily until you ran off with your Russian."
"My husband," I correct. "And I didn't run off. You made me marry him."
Her lips curl. "Raphaella..."
"It's Elle. Only Elle now. Always. "
"Fine, Elle. Your choice to behave like a slutcaused my alliance with Egor to fail, and there are significant complications."
"Your alliance. What's that got to do with my trust?"
"I'm forced to revert it to compensate for the loss." She bites it out like she's already decided.
Natalia tenses beside me. I place a hand on her arm.
"So you came here to steal my money," I say.
"It's not theft." She lifts her chin.
"Viktor already paid for me. You made a very profitable deal."
"Grow up." Her face turns nasty. "I lost money, Elle. Real money. Egor's family cut me out after you disappeared, and Viktor refuses to play ball. That's not embarrassing. It's expensive."
There it is. Underneath the armor, she's bleeding. Not emotionally. Financially. Gayle Donovan is running out of leverage, and that makes her more dangerous than she's ever been.
"Are you even hearing yourself?" I snap.
I hold her stare. Think of all the times she called me dramatic, ungrateful, too much.
Only this time, I'm not ten.
I wait for the pain. The loss. The familiar crash of disappointment.
It doesn't come.
Instead, I feel something unexpected.
Relief.
"Keep it," I say.
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"
"The trust. The money. All of it. I don't want it." My voice is steady now, coming from a place she's never heard from me. "That money was always just a way for you to control me."
She takes a step forward, towering in her heels. "Viktor Ivanov paid for you, is that it? You think because he bought you, you don't need your own money?"
"Viktor didn't buy me. He made a business deal with you. There's a difference."
"Don't pretend you're above this world, Raphaella. You're living in it. Sleeping in it. You think Nikolai Ivanov married you for your sparkling personality?"
"At least I know who I married," I fire back. "Which is more than I can say about my own father. You never even told me what he looked like, Mother. Not once."
Something shifts behind her eyes. A flicker. Fast and gone, like a curtain being yanked back into place. She blinks. Sets her jaw.
"Your father is dead. There's nothing to tell."
"There's always something to tell. Unless there's something you don't want me to know."
She holds my stare for one beat too long. Then she looks away, and the mask snaps back.
I'm not the same frightened girl. I have something now I never had before.
A choice. And I know exactly where to place my trust. In myself. In Nikolai. In this little family we're growing.
"At least he sees me as a person," I say quietly. "Not a business asset."
"You ungrateful..."
Natalia shifts beside me. "I think that's enough." She cuts my mother off, and her voice is steady as bedrock. "Elle has made her position clear."
Dear God, bless Natalia. No one has ever defended me in front of my mother like this. I look at my friend, at the fierce loyalty she's just shown me, and something in my chest cracks open with gratitude.
Mother turns to her, eyes blazing. "This doesn't concern you."
"Elle concerns me," Natalia says simply. "And you're upsetting her in her own home."
Mother looks between us, calculating. Then she smiles. Tight and cold. "I see. Well, I've said what I came to say. The trust fund reverts to me, as per the legal agreement. I'm sure your new family will provide adequately."
"I'll walk you out," Natalia says, stepping forward. She picks up my mother's purse and hands it to her, a dismissal so elegant it almost looks polite.
Mother wants to refuse. But even she can see it's not worth the fight.
She looks at me one last time. "You've always been too naive for your own good."
"And you've always been too selfish to see it."
Natalia gestures toward the door. "This way."
Gayle stalks past her, heels clacking like gunfire on marble. I half-expect her to whirl back with one final insult, but she doesn't. The front door closes with a click that sounds suspiciously like freedom.
The quiet that follows feels unreal.
I sit back, exhale, and realize my hands are shaking.
Natalia returns. "She's gone," she says. Then adds with a small smirk, "And still breathing, if that's your concern."
I huff a laugh. "You're terrifyingly efficient."
"It's a gift." She takes her seat again, eyes softening. "You okay?"
I think about it. About how Gayle's words sliced into me, and how, for the first time, they didn't stick.
"I was hurt," I admit. "In that moment, yeah. Like she reached in and pressed every old bruise just to see if they'd still ache."
"And now?"
I let out a slow breath. "Now I just feel free."
Natalia smiles. "That's what letting go feels like."
"I always thought if I stopped caring about her approval, I'd lose some part of myself." I say it quietly, surprised by how true it is. "Turns out, that part was never mine to begin with."
Her hand finds mine. Warm and steady. "You're stronger than she'll ever understand."
I squeeze back. "You know what's crazy? Having you here made it easier."
She tilts her head. "I didn't do much."
"You stayed. That's enough."
Her smile widens, but something in her eyes stays still. That same faint shadow I noticed earlier, too quick to catch, too quiet to name.
"Always," she says.