Chapter Nineteen
Stella
I’m not crazy.
Despite what Aleksei must have thought as he watched me stare at the ceiling, despite the concerned looks and gentle touches, despite Dr. Malhotra’s clinical assessments of my “dissociative state”— my mind is painfully, perfectly clear.
The pieces have finally locked into place. The fragments of memory that haunted my dreams for weeks have formed into a truth so devastating I can barely breathe around it.
I shift uncomfortably against the pillows, my enormous belly making any position feel impossible. My due date looms just days away. Our daughter kicks against my ribs as if protesting my stillness.
“It’s okay, little one,” I whisper, my hand stroking my belly.
Our daughter.
The thought sends a fresh wave of nausea through me.
I am days away from having my first child with the man who stole my parents from me.
The irony is unbearable. For months, I’ve been drawn to him, unable to resist his gravity despite every warning, every red flag.
Even now, knowing what I know, my body betrays me with memories of his touch.
The tenderness in his hands as he bathed me.
The concern in his eyes when he checks if I’ve eaten properly, or if I’m resting enough.
The way he speaks to our unborn child through my skin, his voice dropping to a softness no one else would believe possible.
How can one person be so caring and so ruthless at the same time?
I close my eyes, remembering the dream that started it all. Not a dream— a memory. The car wrecked beyond recognition. My father’s body trapped in it. The paramedics’ pitying expressions.
And then the newspaper headline that surfaced in my mind this morning.
Prominent Doctor Dies in Car Accident .
The funeral. My mother’s hollow eyes. Her body, weeks later, dead in her bed after a handful of poison released her from her grief.
Both gone. Both because of him.
The baby kicks again, harder this time. I press my hand against the spot, feeling the firm push of a foot or elbow. She’s strong, like her father. The thought brings fresh tears.
What will I tell her when she’s old enough to ask about her grandfather? How do I explain that her father ordered the death of mine?
And the question that burns most fiercely: Why?
What could my father— a doctor, a healer— have done to deserve Aleksei’s vengeance?
Hannah.
Perhaps she knows.
After weeks of silence, of existing in this luxurious prison with only Aleksei and occasionally Diana for company, I need to hear a friendly voice. I need answers before this baby comes. Before I become tied to him forever through our child.
Moving is a production now. I roll to my side first, using my arms to push my swollen body upright.
My center of gravity has shifted so dramatically that even standing requires calculation.
I waddle to the closet, where I’ve hidden my secret phone beneath a stack of maternity clothes Aleksei had delivered from the finest boutiques.
The phone feels forbidden in my hand. Aleksei and I haven’t discussed my “boundaries” in this world that’s clearly his— until now, I’ve been content to let him take care of me. But now, I know that I was a prisoner here. Outside contact wasn’t permitted.
He locked you up, Stella.
I glance at the security camera in the corner of the bedroom. Its red light blinks steadily, a constant reminder of his watchful presence even when he’s physically absent. The bathroom is the only place without surveillance— a small concession to privacy.
I lock the bathroom door behind me, though it’s a meaningless gesture. Nothing in this house is truly locked to Aleksei. Still, it gives me the illusion of security as I perch awkwardly on the edge of the marble tub, phone clutched in trembling hands.
Hannah answers almost immediately, her voice sharp with surprise.
“Stella? Oh my God, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” I whisper, though there’s no one to overhear.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! It’s been weeks and—”
“Hannah.” I take a deep breath. “I… I lost my memory. I’m only now starting to piece things together.”
“What? How? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” My voice catches. “There was an incident.”
“Incident?” Her voice grows tight. I can almost see her eyes grow wary. “What kind of incident? Did he hurt you, Stella? Because if he did—”
“No,” I interrupt. “No, not him. Gianni.”
“Gianni?” She’s incredulous. “I thought that dickhead was out of your life for good.”
“He was,” I tell her. “But he…” I pinch my lips together, wondering how much to reveal, and then deciding to go all in. “He abducted me, Han. His men grabbed me and took me to a warehouse.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she blurts. “What the actual fuck, Stella? Why am I only finding this out now?”
“I told you. I lost my memory. I’ve literally just figured it all out. Up till now, I’ve been in a complete fog.”
“Oh, honey… That’s unbelievable. You must have been living a nightmare these past weeks. Where are you? Still with him?”
“Yes. I’m at Aleksei’s manor. I’m about to have the baby.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Stella… Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know, dammit! Because right now, I’m confused. About him. About me. About all of it!”
She heaves out a deep breath. “Stels… Do you remember what I told you about him?” Her voice is low.
I close my eyes, fighting back tears. “That’s why I’m calling. Han. I need to know. What really happened? Did he have my father killed?”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with implication.
“Please, Han,” I urge. “I need to know. Because I’ve been having dreams— awful dreams— and last night was the worst of them. If this is all real, then I need to know. I have to know if it’s true, or if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.”
When Hannah finally speaks, her words confirm my worst fears. “Yes, Stella, it’s true. All the evidence points to that.”
Though I’ve already come to this conclusion, hearing it spoken aloud sends a wave of physical pain through me. I press my free hand against my mouth, stifling a sob.
“But why?” I manage after a moment, my throat almost too constricted to speak. “Do you know why he did it?”
“I’m sorry, Stella. I couldn’t find out the details. The official report says it was an accident. Case closed.” Her voice hardens. “It’s likely that Aleksei paid for that cover-up.”
I bite my lip, tears flowing freely now. “So we still don’t know the whole truth?”
“No, we don’t.” Hannah’s voice turns urgent. “But Stella, you need to be careful. If you’re with him—”
“I know,” I cut her off, suddenly aware of how long I’ve been in the bathroom. “I… I don’t know what to do, Han. I’m confused. He’s been so caring, but knowing what he did…”
“Listen to me.” The agent in her takes over, voice clipped and professional. “He’s a monster, Stella. A killer. Get out while you can.”
A sound in the hallway outside my bedroom startles me. “I have to go,” I interrupt. “I’ll call you when I can.”
I end the call before she can protest, quickly wiping the number from the recent calls list. I flush the toilet to explain my extended bathroom visit, then wash my hands and face, trying to erase the evidence of tears.
By the time I return to the bedroom, hiding the phone once more beneath my clothes, my thoughts are racing faster than my heart.
Why did Aleksei have my father murdered and then pay for a fake report? Obviously, he never wanted the case to be investigated, but what is the whole truth behind this?
I lower myself carefully back onto the bed, arranging my body among the specialized pregnancy pillows Aleksei ordered from Sweden. The sheets are Egyptian cotton, the comforter filled with eiderdown. Even my prison is exquisite.
I stare at the ceiling again, but now with purpose. Pretending withdrawal buys me time— time to think, to plan, to understand.
My father was an obstetrician. Respected in his field. We fled Russia when I was seventeen, changing our name from Larkin to Fermont. My mother never explained why, only that we were in danger. Was it because of something that happened with Aleksei? Some connection I’ve yet to discover?
“But what?” I whisper into the silence of the room.
The baby shifts inside me, settling lower in my pelvis. The pressure increases, a reminder that my time is running out. Once she’s born, everything changes. I’ll be a mother. Aleksei will be a father. Our lives will be intertwined through her, regardless of what truths I uncover.
Each gentle touch from him now feels like a betrayal— both of my parents and of myself.
Yet I can’t deny the care he’s shown me throughout this pregnancy.
The genuine concern in his eyes whenever I’ve shown the slightest discomfort.
The way he memorized every instruction from Dr. Malhotra.
The nursery he had prepared, filled with everything our daughter might need.
Oh God, what a nightmare.
I rub my eyes, which are aching, a headache forming that settles like a dull, pounding throb in my overworked brain.
How can I love the man who destroyed my family? Yet how can I not love the father of my child?
The contradiction tears at me. In the silence of this beautiful room, surrounded by evidence of his wealth and power, I make a decision. I need the whole truth. Not just the fact of my father’s murder, but the reason behind it. Not just what Aleksei did, but why he did it.
Only then can I decide what to do. Whether to run, as Hannah urges. Whether to confront him. Whether to find some impossible path forward that honors both my parents’ memory and my daughter’s future.
My hand rests on my belly, feeling the strong, steady life beneath my palm.
“We’ll figure this out,” I whisper to her. “I promise.”
For now, I’ll maintain this facade of withdrawal. I’ll watch. I’ll listen. I’ll gather whatever information I can from within these gilded walls.
And when the moment is right— when I have enough pieces to see the complete picture— then I’ll decide who Aleksei Tarasov truly is to me: protector or destroyer, lover or enemy, father of my child or murderer of my father.
Until then, I’ll keep staring at the ceiling, my mind clear and focused while he believes me lost.
It’s the only advantage I have.