Chapter 50 Olivia
OLIVIA
The Eliot Hotel. I stand on the sidewalk for a full minute, clutching my purse, trying to convince myself this is a good idea.
It’s not. I know it’s not.
But I’m here anyway.
I push through the revolving door and step into the lobby.
I immediately feel like I’m making too much noise simply by breathing, by existing.
It’s marble and gold as far as the eye can see.
A pianist plays something soft and melancholy in the corner.
I don’t recognize the tune but it feels appropriate.
The hostess greets me. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. Under ‘Aster.’”
She checks her tablet. “Right this way.”
I follow her through the dining room to a private corner booth. The table is set for two. White linens, crystal glasses, and in the center, a single white orchid in a silver vase.
“Your guest hasn’t arrived yet,” the hostess says. “Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”
“Water, please.”
She nods and disappears.
I slide into the booth and set my purse beside me. I pull my phone out and see a text from Stefan. How’s the wedding planner meeting going?
My stomach twists. I type back with shaking thumbs, Just got here. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Take your time. No rush.
I pocket my phone and stare at the orchid. My breathing still sounds too loud even to my own ears. It’s the deafening ba-boom of my own pulse and the click-clack of my clattering jewelry.
This is insane. Every single bit of this entire fiasco is insane.
But what choice do I have? If I don’t try, if I don’t at least attempt to broker peace between them, this war will never end. More people will get hurt. More blood will be spilled.
And our daughter will be born into a world where her father and grandmother are mortal enemies.
I can’t let that happen.
The hostess returns with my water. I thank her and take a sip. It’s ice-cold and does precisely nothing to settle my nerves. I check my phone again. 1:28 P.M. Two more minutes.
I count them in heartbeats.
At exactly one-thirty, Natalia appears.
Like the first time we met, back when I thought she was simply Gen, she’s beautiful and angelic. White suit and a perfect chignon, diamonds studs glittering in her ears, an aura of invincibility surrounding her like a cloak. When she reaches the table, she smiles. “Olivia. You came.”
She pulls me into a hug before I can stop her. It’s warm and maternal and completely disarming. I stiffen but don’t pull away.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you for giving me a chance.”
She releases me and we both sit. The hostess appears again, takes Natalia’s drink order—sparkling water with lemon—and vanishes.
Natalia looks at me from across the table. “You look tired. How is Elena?”
“She’s recovering. The doctors say she can come home in a few days.”
“That’s wonderful news. I’m so glad she’s alright.”
I want to snap at her. Elena wouldn’t have been shot in the first place if it weren’t for her. But I bite my tongue.
“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” Natalia says quietly, as if reading my mind. “That was never the plan.”
“Then what was the plan?”
“To get Mikayla out. I needed to bring her somewhere safe.”
“Safe from Stefan.”
“Yes.”
I take another sip of water. “He says you’re using her.”
Natalia’s expression doesn’t change. “I’m sure he does. Stefan sees the world in very black and white terms. I’m either a saint or a monster. There’s no in-between.”
“So which are you?”
She smiles sadly. “Neither. I’m just a woman who made mistakes and is trying to fix them.”
The waiter arrives with her sparkling water and asks if we’re ready to order. Natalia orders a salad. I order the same, even though I’m not hungry.
When we’re alone again, Natalia scoots her chair closer to the table. “I know what Stefan has told you about me. About the affair, the fire, everything.”
“He told me his version.”
“And do you believe him?”
I hesitate. “I believe he believes it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No. It’s not.”
Natalia’s eyes never leave mine. “Did you read Matvey’s journals?
” When I nod, she continues, “Then you have seen the truth. Matvey was a complicated man. Brilliant in some ways. Broken in others. He wrote everything down, though, so we can see for ourselves a perfectly preserved record of what happened.”
“He regretted how he treated you.”
“Yes. He did.” She takes a sip of her water. “But by the time he realized that, it was too late. The damage was done. Stefan had already chosen a side.”
“He was a child,” I protest.
“Exactly. A child who saw his father suffering and blamed his mother. And Matvey never corrected him. He let Stefan believe I was the villain.”
I think about the passages I read. Matvey admitted to his mistakes and acknowledged becoming the monster he accused Natalia of being. Was that the truth? Or is there another piece of the puzzle I still haven’t seen?
“Stefan says you drove his father to suicide.”
Natalia’s face goes very still. “I didn’t kill him. His tumor did. The paranoia, the violence, the delusions—all of it was the disease eating away at his brain.”
“But you were having an affair.”
“Yes. I was.” She doesn’t shy away from that harsh admission.
“I was miserable, Olivia. Matvey was a good man once, but the soul of the man I married disappeared long before he actually died. What was left behind was angry and cruel and dangerous. Vasily, on the other hand, was kind to me. He made me feel safe. I know it was wrong and I know it hurt people. But I was drowning and he threw me a lifeline.”
Our salads arrive. We pick at them in silence for a moment.
Then Natalia sets her fork down and says, “I want to be part of my son’s life. My grandchild’s life, too. But Stefan won’t let me. He’ll never listen to me long enough to understand.”
“What if I made him listen? He would if I asked him.”
She folds her hands in her lap and sighs. “Olivia, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I don’t think you understand who Stefan really is. The man I know is capable of terrible things. Things that would horrify you.”
“I’ve seen terrible things. I know what he’s done.”
“Mikayla is caged in a concrete box, Olivia. No windows. No sunlight. Just four walls and a locked door.”
I feel my throat tighten. “He’s not hurting her.”
“Isn’t he, though? Can you imagine what that’s like? Being kept in isolation for weeks on end? Not knowing if you’ll ever see daylight again?” Natalia leans forward so all I can see is her face, somber and stricken. “He’s going to kill her.”
“No. He wouldn’t. He’s kept her alive this long.”
“Because he needs something from her. But the moment her use is met, she’ll be dead. I promise you that.”
“You don’t know that.” I shake my head. “Stefan isn’t a killer.”
Natalia laughs bitterly. “Olivia, sweetheart… Stefan has killed more people than you can count. He burned down that cabin knowing people were inside. He executed men who crossed him.”
“Those were criminals. People who—”
“Mikayla isn’t a criminal. She’s a girl who lost her sister and wanted justice. And now, she’s paying for it.”
I feel tears prick my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then ask him. Ask Stefan to let you see Mikayla. Ask him to let you go downstairs and check on her yourself.”
I open my mouth. Close it again.
Natalia nods as if I did exactly what she expected me to do. “You can’t, can you? Because you already know he’ll say no.”
“He’s trying to protect me.”
“Or he’s trying to hide something.”
I push my salad away. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to see the truth. Stefan is not the man you think he is. And I want you to help me save Mikayla before it’s too late.”
“How?”
“Go downstairs. Check on her. Make sure she’s alright. That’s all I’m asking.”
“And if she’s fine?”
“Then I’ll know you were right and I was wrong. But if she’s not...” Natalia reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Please, Olivia. I’ve been worried sick about her. I just want to know she’s okay.”
I look down at our joined hands. Hers are soft and manicured. Mine are trembling.
“I’ll try,” I whisper.
“Thank you.”
She releases my hand and pulls a card from her purse. She slides it across the table. “This is my new number. If you ever need help, call me. I’ll send someone immediately.”
I stare at the card. Just a phone number. No name.
“I should go,” I say. “The wedding planner will be here soon.”
Natalia stands. “Of course. Thank you for meeting with me, Olivia. Together, we can make this right.”
She kisses my cheek and walks away. I sit there for a long time, staring at the card in my hand.
Then I pocket it and leave.