Chapter 25
ELLE
Ithink God pulled a solid making sure Nikolai was up and gone before I woke, because I wake up furious. I was sad last night, but that ship sailed at dawn.
Now all I can think is that he ruined everything. Ruined my moment. Ruined our night. Ruined what could've been a memory we'd cherish for years.
I spent goddamn hours pulling together the perfect surprise that never came to be. I'd rehearsed how I'd say it. We're having a baby, you terrifying, impossible man, and you're going to be a father again. But of course that didn't happen.
And the fact that it didn't makes me seethe.
I'm done. Done being sweet, good-natured Elle who never gives her man a hard time. If I come second to everything else in Nikolai's life, then screw it.
It's about time I put myself first.
I get dressed with an agenda and a vendetta.
Beige tailored trousers. A satin button-down, loose enough to whisper sexy and free.
I braid my hair, long, polished, just messy enough to look effortless, and add jewelry and makeup until the mirror finally nods back at me like there she is.
Then the boots: sleek, a little dangerous, practical enough to survive whatever kind of day this turns into.
By the time I'm done, I look like the kind of woman who doesn't get ignored twice.
I grab my bag and head downstairs, the click of my boots sharp enough to sound like a warning.
He's in the living room, leaning against the couch with coffee in hand, reading his phone. Working, even at home. Of course.
When he looks up and sees me, he freezes. Just for a second. Then that composure cracks, like he wasn't expecting this version of me.
His eyes sweep over me. Head to toe. Slow. "Going somewhere?"
I sling my purse across my body. "Shopping."
"Shopping?"
"Yes. That thing normal people do when they need to buy stuff."
A flash of hurt crosses his face. "You don't have to be quite so sarcastic."
"Then stop asking stupid questions."
He sets his cup down. "Elle..."
"No." I cut him off. "I'm not doing this today. I'm done sitting in this house like some well-kept secret. I'm done waiting for you to remember I exist."
His jaw tightens. "That's not fair."
"Neither is being married to a man who keeps disappearing. So if you're planning on telling me no, save your breath."
The silence crackles. He looks at me like he's choosing between fighting and surrendering.
"Fine," he exhales. "You can go."
I arch a brow.
"With the guards," he adds.
I figured I'd have to give somewhere. I sigh like it's an inconvenience, but I don't really mind. It's not freedom, but it's a win.
"Good." I slide on my sunglasses. "I was going anyway."
As I walk past, I catch the look on his face. Regret. Like he realizes what he's turned me into. A small part of me wants to stop and explain why I'm really angry, but something tells me to hold. The ball's in his court.
Let him stew. It's about time he knows what silence feels like from the other side.
Natalia's sprawled on the guesthouse bed, flipping through a magazine, legs in the air behind her. She grins when she sees me.
"Morning. You look like money."
"Thanks. Feel like spending some?"
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Shopping?"
"I need out of the house before I start climbing walls."
"Does Nikolai know?"
"He knows. Guards are coming. Nobody's getting shot today."
She studies me, then smiles slow. "Nikolai must be thrilled about the baby news if he's letting you out."
I force a laugh that comes out wrong. "Yeah. About that."
Her face falls. "Oh no."
"I didn't get to tell him. He got called away. Just left."
She makes a sympathetic noise. "Men. They could have a goddess standing naked in front of them holding world-altering news, and they'd still pick up the phone."
"Sounds about right."
"Don't worry," she says, grabbing her bag. "You'll get another chance. And when you do, make him work for it."
"Come on." She slings the bag over her shoulder. "Let's go spend his money."
I laugh for real this time, and together we step out into the morning sun.
By late afternoon, we're sitting at a café with outdoor tables, surrounded by the chatter of strangers and half a dozen shopping bags. It feels normal. Easy.
Natalia lifts her wine glass. "To freedom. Even if it's temporary."
I clink my water against hers. "To pretending we're normal."
We laugh, and for a moment, the world outside this tiny bubble doesn't exist.
Until it does.
The first sound is a pop. Sharp. Distant. Like someone cracking a whip against the sky.
My brain doesn't process it. Not right away. It takes the screaming to wake me up.
Natalia's wine glass shatters on the table as she grabs my arm and ducks, pulling me with her. "Get down!"
The second pop is closer. I watch from under our table as one of our guards jerks backward, a dark bloom spreading across his chest. The other pulls his weapon, shouting something lost in the chaos.
"Elle, move!" he yells.
But there's nowhere to go. The world detonates around me.
People screaming, chairs overturning, glass shattering underfoot.
Someone crashes into me and I stumble, catching myself on a table that's already tipping.
The air smells like smoke and copper, sharp and metallic, filling my mouth until I can taste it.
Then the hands.
Rough. Grabbing. Shoving.
I try to scream but a hood is yanked over my head before the sound makes it out. Everything goes black. My own breathing fills the fabric, deafening, too loud, too fast, too uneven.
"Let go!" I try to shout, but my voice comes out broken. My wrists are wrenched behind me, something plastic biting deep into the skin until it burns.
Laughter. Low, male, gleeful. They're enjoying this.
My heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts. Every instinct screams run but there's no air, no light, no control. I'm lifted, half-dragged, knees scraping concrete, shoulder hitting something solid as they shove me forward.
I think of the baby. The thought crashes through the panic like a fist through glass. My baby. Our baby. I curl inward, trying to protect what they don't know is there, and the fear becomes something different. Something with teeth.
The world tilts. I'm thrown into a vehicle. My body hits metal. Pain blooms across my hip. The doors slam shut, the echo reverberating inside my skull.
Dark. Hot. The smell of oil and blood. My pulse is a wild animal in my throat.
"Natalia," I whisper, straining against the restraints. Her shoulder presses against mine. She's shaking. But she doesn't answer.
The engine starts. Time stretches and folds. Every second a lifetime.
When the van stops, I'm hauled out, feet scraping concrete. Someone tears the hood off and the light nearly blinds me.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust.
Then I see her.
My mother.
Gayle Donovan, in all her manicured, perfect glory.
For one split, stupid, disoriented second, I feel relief. "Mother?" The word tears out of me like a prayer. "Oh my God, you found me."
For one dizzy, impossible heartbeat, I think she's here to save me.
She gives me that cool, reassuring smile I've known my whole life. "It's okay, sweetheart."
I almost cry with relief. Of course she came. Because despite everything, she's still my mom, and moms don't just...
Then she nods.
A tiny motion. Barely noticeable.
One of the men steps forward. Natalia's hood is yanked off. She's gasping, disoriented, hair a wreck.
And that's when it hits. When I see her face and the men still holding guns and the way my mother doesn't even flinch.
My stomach drops. The air leaves my lungs.
No.
No, no, no.
This isn't a rescue.
"Mother?" My voice cracks. "What the hell is going on?"
She smiles. That same smile she wore when she wanted to look benevolent. "Hello, darling. You look well."
"You kidnapped me!"
"I rescued you." She says it like we're arguing semantics. "From your husband, from that family, from a life you don't understand."
The laugh that bursts out of me is unhinged. "You've officially lost your mind."
Her eyes narrow. "I lost everything because of you. Egor. The connections. The money. But this..." She gestures at the armed men, the room, the cage she's built. "This will fix everything."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're being ransomed. If your husband and his uncle don't pay, I'll handle it myself and hand you over to Egor."
"You're insane. Do you hear yourself?"
She ignores me. Turns to the guards. "Make sure they're comfortable. I have calls to make."
"Wait!" I shout. "Let Natalia go. She has nothing to do with this."
Gayle's smile curdles. "Oh, but she does."
The implication lands before she's out of the room.
I turn to Natalia. Heart hammering. "What the hell does that mean?"
She's pale. Crying.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
She wipes her face, voice shaking. "I was in trouble, Elle. The Italians, they were going to kill me. Vincenzo's people had already found me once. I was out of options."
My skin goes hot. "What did you do?"
"Your mother approached me the day I walked her to the gate. She said she could make the Italians go away. Protection. Money. A new start. All she wanted was information."
"Information," I repeat. The word tastes like poison.
"About the house. The security rotations. When Nikolai would be gone. When the gates were weakest." She chokes on a sob. "I gave her what she wanted. But I swear to God, Elle, I didn't know she'd do this. I thought she wanted leverage for money. That's it. I didn't know she'd take you."
"But you told her," I say, and my voice is barely a whisper now. "You told her about the pregnancy."
Natalia's face crumples. "She asked if there was anything else. Anything she could use. And I..." Her voice breaks. "I told her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
I sink to my knees. The world narrows to the sound of my own breathing, ragged and uneven.
Gayle knows.
She knows I'm carrying Nikolai's child.
And she still did this.
Whatever comes next, I know one thing for sure.
My mother didn't just declare war on Nikolai.
She declared war on me. And on my baby.