35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sergei
Yesterday
“You should go see her.” Nadia taps the stack of papers on the kitchen island and snatches the pen from my hand.
It’s late, and Misha is already asleep. It took him a while to settle down because he kept asking for Aurora. I told him she was visiting family for the holidays and would be back next week, hoping he’ll adjust to this new reality without her by then. That we both will…
“She wouldn’t want to see me,” I say, rubbing my eyes hard enough that dark spots dance in my vision when I reopen them. Blinking them away, I stand and carry our empty teacups to the sink.
Nadia steps closer. “I love you, Sergei, but you’re an idiot,” she quips.
I snap my head back at her. I’m used to her bluntness. She’s one of the few who can call me on my bullshit. But today, her words cut deeper.
“It wasn’t real,” I whisper as I have countless times over the past couple of days, reminding myself of my miserable reality.
“If you think that, I’ll be forced to go back to the board and convince them to cast a vote of no confidence.
” She packs the documents into her black folder and places it in her purse.
“After everything this past year, you should understand the importance of fighting for the people you love. You can’t decide for her what was real.
You need to talk to her. You owe that to both of you. ”
She rises on her toes and kisses my cheek. “You’re a different man with her—a better man. You’re happier, more playful, and a much better papa to Misha.” She gently pats my forearm. “It’s easy to be complicit, to move through life choosing the easier path—”
“You think I chose the easier path?” I step back, her accusation hitting hard.
“I’ve worked tirelessly to build my hotel, to build the life I have.
I could’ve invested the money and taken the easy way out,” I say, tilting my head down, making sure we both understand the implication—the illegal route that Anton so adamantly pushed for.
“I’m not talking about the hotel. I’m talking about what really matters.”
I take another step back. “The hotel doesn’t matter?”
“Nyet!” She raises her voice, and I struggle to remember if she’s ever used that tone with me. “Compared to the real things in life, it doesn’t. What’s the point of life, Sergei?”
I rub my temples. “I don’t have the energy for philosophical bullshit.”
“It’s not…” She straightens her jacket. “Working countless hours on the hotel won’t be what you think of on your deathbed. Listen, I’m much closer to that than you are.”
“Don’t say that,” I interrupt.
“When Alessia excluded you from Misha’s life, you just let her.
You didn’t fight for your right to be in his life.
You became complicit. You’re doing the same thing with Aurora now.
Anyone with half a brain can see the connection between you two.
It wasn’t fake—it was the realest thing I’ve ever seen.
” She pauses, taking several deep breaths.
“She was learning Russian, Sergei. It’s not an easy language.
If someone takes the time to learn it, if someone respects your background and embraces it, welcomes it with open arms…
If that’s not real love, I don’t know what is. ” With that, she turns away and leaves.
I’m left standing there, shaken by Nadia’s verbal takedown, yet despite that, something warm in my chest starts to grow.
“Excuse me,” I say as I navigate the surprisingly packed hospital lobby the next afternoon. The plastic wrap of the bouquet I’m carrying rustles against a passing woman’s purse. An announcement about a car parked at the ambulance bay plays in the background, but I barely register it amid the chaos.
The busyness of the past couple of days has left me overwhelmed.
After endless meetings of retelling the events from Mount Charleston to the police, I could recite them on autopilot.
Then there were the board meetings, questioning my suitability to remain CEO, challenging my judgment.
If I couldn’t see Anton’s true character, how could I be an effective leader?
Were it not for Sasha, my publicist, stepping in during those discussions, I might have caved.
The realization that Anton not only killed Alessia but had been seeing her for months behind my back shook my confidence.
I keep reminding myself that even the private investigator I hired to investigate her death didn’t uncover his culpability, despite the outrageous monthly cash-only payments he drained from me.
As I exit the elevator on the fourth floor, I nearly bump into Daniel.
He spots me first, nodding in greeting. “For me?” Daniel asks, managing a half-smile as he points to the flowers in my hand.
“I think they were all out of ‘thank you for finally believing I didn’t kill my wife’ flowers,” I respond dryly.
He shrugs. “I’ll be sure to file a formal complaint.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He tucks his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “I stopped by to check on Aurora,” he says, tilting his head down the hall.
I glance past him and spot a surgeon walking in our direction.
From a distance, she catches my eye and gives a silent nod in acknowledgment.
The helplessness I felt when Aurora was hurt was unparalleled, so I did what I knew best. I threw money at the problem, using my connections to secure the best treatment for her.
“I was wondering,” Daniel’s voice pulls me back, “can I stop by to see Misha?”
I study his face, where a whirlwind of emotions plays out—regret, shame, and maybe even a flicker of hope.
“Of course,” I say. I’ve never had an issue with Daniel spending time with Misha, but after his obsession took hold, I had to protect my son, even if it meant keeping Daniel at a distance.
Now, though, hopefully all of that is behind us.
He could return to Misha’s life, especially if Aurora might not…
“I’ll text you?” Daniel suggests.
I nod, and we part ways. As I approach Aurora’s room, the sound of my shoes clicking against the ceramic floor sends my body into a conditioned panic, reminding me of the walk to the morgue and the haunting nightmares that followed.
I force myself to focus on the present—Aurora is alive. She’s safe.
I shift the bouquet of flowers from one hand to the other as Nadia’s words repeat in my head.
Have I become complicit in my life? Am I so focused on control that I push aside anything threatening it?
Control is important—it lets me function, anticipate, and calculate my next move in this endless game of life.
But maybe, when it comes to emotions and relationships, control is an illusion.
It’s more about letting go, being vulnerable, and accepting the possibility of getting hurt.
True control is relinquishing it, diving into the unknown without a parachute, not knowing how deep the fall is or if there’s someone waiting to catch me, to help me, to love me.
I notice Aurora’s door is slightly ajar. Pausing, I catch snippets of conversation from inside.
“—don’t understand why you didn’t feel comfortable telling me about your internship. I’m your mother, you know,” a woman says.
“I was embarrassed I didn’t get it. It doesn’t happen often, and I felt dumb and… like a failure.” Aurora’s voice sends shivers through me. She’s alive. She’s safe.
“You aren’t a failure,” her mother says, her tone reassuring. “It’s okay to fail. Have I not taught you that what matters more is how you bounce back?”
“You sound just like Layla,” Aurora responds, her voice soft but edged with frustration.
“Well, I knew there was a reason I liked her.” There’s a pause, and I consider knocking, but her mother continues. “What are you planning to do now? Are you going back to being a nanny?”
I bristle at the way she says “nanny.”
“I don’t think so… I think it’s best if I find another job,” Aurora says.
Something in my chest clenches painfully.
“What about a place to live? Maybe you could move to Pennsylvania for a few months. Save some money while you wait for the next internship cycle. You’re done with school. There’s nothing holding you here, right?”
Aurora takes a moment before responding, “Right.”
I step back from the door, having heard enough. I drop the bouquet of flowers into the nearest trash can and push my sleeves up. Taking out my phone, I dial Nadia’s number. “I need your help,” I say.