16. Aurora
16
AURORA
"A small selection of pastries, ladies?"
I glide through the sitting room with practiced ease, balancing the silver tray stacked with delicate French confections.
Eleonora Voronin takes a macaron, her fingers no longer trembling as they brush against the tray.
"Thank you, Aurora Markovna." Her voice carries a warmth I've never heard before. "Alexei has been different these days. More considerate. I can even leave his sight without explaining my every movement."
My chest tightens with a fierce protectiveness. "I'm glad to hear it."
"It's because of you," she whispers. "And after what your husband did to mine. Alexei now understands that there are new rules."
I fight to suppress a smile, remembering Ruslan's unspoken threat to blind Alexei if he ever ogled another man's wife again.
Anastasia Svarikov actually laughs, a sound so unexpected I nearly trip over my own feet. I remember how at my wedding, Gregor pointed out that she hasn't spoken a word since her sister's murder two years ago.
"Ivan would have given his left nut to frame that moment," she says. "Who would've thought that after all the time he's forced me to my knees, the person he really wanted to see there was that wrinkled old pervert?"
Natasha Korsakov cackles in delight, and I notice several others hide more demure smiles behind their teacups.
Hannah chokes on her tea, clearly unprepared for what she's hearing.
"I'm sorry," Hannah splutters, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "I guess I expected you all to be more..."
"Respectful of our husbands?" offers Natasha Korsakov with a raised eyebrow.
"I was gonna say terrified of them," Hannah admits. "But yeah. That works."
"Mrs. Dragunov?"
One of the production assistants—a young man named Jerome with a clipboard—approaches with a respectful nod.
"Auditions are due to start in the next fifteen minutes."
"Thank you, Jerome. I'll be right there."
I squeeze Eleonora's hand gently before rising from my seat. "Ladies, please excuse me. I have some casting to attend to."
"Will you come back afterwards?" Varya asks, looking almost disappointed.
"Of course," I promise. "Hannah, care to join me?"
Hannah sets down her teacup and follows me out of the sitting room. Once we're in the hallway, I exhale deeply.
"Those women are something else," Hannah whispers. "Guess you lucked out with Ruslan, huh?"
"I did."
And that's the truth.
Walking toward the conference room, I straighten my posture and mentally shift gears. The documentary isn't just a strategic move against Kristofer anymore. It's become my mission. The auditions need to be authentic, not just for show.
"So who's up for the role of your mom?" Hannah asks. "Anyone we know?"
The assistant hands me a tablet with the names. I scroll through quickly, then freeze.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"What?" Hannah leans over my shoulder, then lets out a low whistle. "Sienna Voss? The same Sienna who outed you?"
My stomach coils into a tight knot. "The very same."
"How the hell did she even get an audition slot? I thought Ruslan blackballed her from the industry."
I take a steadying breath. "Someone must have slipped her name onto the list."
"Want me to tell her to get lost?" Hannah offers, already rolling up her sleeves.
I consider it for a moment. Sienna, with her Instagram post and nightclub drama, is partially responsible for my current situation. She's responsible for Kristofer finding me. But she's also unwittingly helped set in motion the plan that might finally free me from him.
"No," I decide, my voice steadier than I feel. "Let her audition."
"Are you sure?" Hannah's eyebrows shoot up.
"My mother was fierce, protective, and unafraid to face her enemies." I straighten my blouse and square my shoulders. "Let's see if Sienna can channel any of that."
I walk into the conference room to find a small crowd of actresses already waiting. Some chat in hushed tones while others silently review pages of dialogue. But my eyes lock immediately on one face I never expected to see again.
Sienna Voss.
The moment she spots me, she rises from her chair. My pulse quickens, adrenaline flooding my system in a fight-or-flight response that's become too familiar since Kristofer found me. I half-expect her to make a scene, to threaten me again, but instead she approaches with downcast eyes.
"Aurora, I need to speak with you."
Hannah tenses beside me, ready to intervene, but I give her a slight nod to stand down.
"About what, Ms. Voss?" My tone is cold, professional.
"I didn't come to audition. I came to apologize." She wrings her hands together. "For what I did. I don't expect you to forgive me. But I just wanted a chance to tell you how truly sorry I am."
I study Sienna's face for any hint of deception, any sign that this is just another power play. But all I see is fear—raw and genuine—etched into the creases around her eyes.
"Why apologize now?" I ask, crossing my arms. "It's a little late, don't you think?"
She glances around nervously at the other actresses, then lowers her voice. "Can we speak somewhere private?"
I hesitate. Hannah shoots me a look that clearly says bad idea , but something in Sienna's desperation makes me nod.
"Five minutes," I tell her. "Jerome, we'll use the office next door."
Once the door closes behind us, Sienna's carefully constructed Hollywood facade crumbles completely.
"The day before I revealed your identity." Her voice cracks, "I was taken from my home. Two men broke in while I was sleeping. They put a bag over my head and drove me somewhere."
My stomach twists. "Taken where?"
"I don't know. Some house. When they removed the bag, I was sitting in front of the most terrifying woman I've ever seen." Sienna shivers visibly. "Blonde, ice-blue eyes, perfect skin that didn't move when she spoke. It was as if she's wearing a mask for a face. But her eyes… they saw me and they hated ."
I know who she's talking about. Tamara.
"She showed me the picture I posted of you from Nikoforov weeks ago. The one I deleted after Ruslan blackballed me from the rest of Hollywood." Sienna continues, her voice shaking. "She asked me if I knew who you really were. When I said I didn't, she told me that your name was Jamie, and that you were just pretending to be a woman named Aurora Castellanos. She told me that I had two choices: either I post the photo and tell the world who you were or..."
Sienna's voice falters.
"She told me that they'll kill me. She told me exactly how they'll kill me. That they'll make me hurt first. I had no choice."
I should feel sympathy for her. She was threatened, forced to choose between her life and mine. But all I can think about is how her Instagram post set everything in motion. The attack on the mansion. Hannah's kidnapping. Kristofer's hands on me.
The bruises and bite marks that still haven't fully healed.
"Do you have any idea what your post did?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Do you know what happened to me because of it? What happened to Ruslan?"
Sienna stares at her hands. "I know that Ruslan was shot when this mansion came under attack, but… that's all I know."
"Let me show you exactly what your post did." I finally say, my voice eerily calm despite the storm raging inside me.
I tug at my collar, yanking the fabric down to expose the ugly bite mark on my shoulder. It's faded somewhat, but the imprint of human teeth remains unmistakable.
"You exposed me to the world. You helped my stalker, the same man who murdered my family seven years ago, find me. And this is what happened when he did."
Sienna's hand flies to her mouth. "Oh my god?—"
"I'm not finished." I cut her off, my hand moving to my face where I dampen my finger with saliva and rub at my cheek, revealing the bruise beneath my carefully applied makeup. "He kidnapped my best friend to lure me out. He forced me into his car at knifepoint. Then he drove me to Las Vegas where he intended to marry and rape me."
The words pour out of me like poison that's been festering too long. I pull back my sleeve to show the fading finger-shaped bruises still on my wrist.
"He forced me onto the bed." My voice cracks. "Held me down. Ripped my clothes. Hurt me while I begged him for mercy. He was on the verge of raping me before someone broke the door down."
Sienna's face has gone ghostly pale.
"You were afraid of dying. I was living my nightmares." I step closer, my eyes locked with hers. "But do you know what the worst part of this all was?"
Sienna shakes her head, a tear rolling down her cheek.
My hand moves instinctively to my belly, cradling it protectively.
"I didn't even know I was pregnant at the time." The words come out as barely more than a whisper. "My baby was growing inside me when that monster's hands were on me, when he bit me and bruised me."
"I'm so sorry," Sienna whispers, her makeup streaking as tears run freely down her face. "I didn't know?—"
"Your words can't undo what he did," I snap, anger boiling over. "Sorry doesn't erase the bite marks he left. Your apology won't make the bruises heal any faster. And your tears won't help me forget that awful moment."
My hands are shaking now, and I ball them into fists at my sides.
"For seven years, I ran, hid, and never stopped looking over my shoulder." I tell her. "And just when I finally found something good, someone who made me feel safe, you helped nearly destroy it all."
I wipe angrily at my eyes. "So forgive me if I don't rush to absolve you of your guilt."
"I understand," she whispers.
"You should leave now."
Sienna nods, her hand trembling as she wipes uselessly at her mascara-streaked face. She reaches for the door handle, pausing for just a moment.
"I really am sorry, Aurora."
"I know."
The door closes behind her with a soft click, and I collapse into the nearest chair. The weight of everything: the documentary, the pregnancy, the bratva politics, and now this confrontation. All of it crashes down on me at once. I press my palms against my eyes, willing the tears to stop.
I don't know how long I sit there before the door bursts open.
"What the hell happened?" Hannah rushes in, her red hair flying behind her. "Sienna just ran out of here crying like someone died."
I drop my hands to my lap and look up at my best friend. "I showed her what her Instagram post really did."
Hannah's eyes widen as she notices the exposed bruise on my cheek where I'd wiped away the makeup.
"Jesus, Aurora." She pulls up a chair next to me. "You didn't hold back, did you?"
"I couldn't." I shake my head. "She needed to see."
"And did you accept her apology?"
"I did." My hands find my belly again, that protective instinct becoming more natural each day. "But I also made it clear that acceptance isn't the same as absolution."
Hannah reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "That's fair. More than fair, honestly."
"I don't feel good about it," I admit. "Making her cry wasn't the goal. But I needed her to understand."
Hannah wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. She needed to hear it."
"I know, but..." My voice catches. "I made myself relive it all over again just to punish her."
"You weren't punishing her. You were showing her the truth." Hannah's voice is gentle but firm. "There's a difference."
The tears I've been fighting spill over. "I'm so tired of being strong all the time."
"Then don't be." Hannah pulls me tighter against her. "Not with me."
Something inside me breaks, a dam holding back years of fear, rage, and heartache. I sob against Hannah's shoulder, my body shaking with each ragged breath.
"I didn't ask for any of this," I choke out between sobs. "I didn't ask to be hunted. I didn't ask to fall in love with a pakhan. I didn't ask to get pregnant in the middle of a bratva war."
Hannah strokes my hair, letting me cry it out. "I know, honey. I know."
"And the worst part is, I still feel guilty. For making Sienna cry. For dragging you into this mess. For putting Ruslan in danger." My words tumble out between hiccupping sobs. "For being Jamie Fields."
"Stop." Hannah grips my shoulders, making me look at her. "You're not dragging anyone anywhere. We're all choosing to stand with you because we love you."
I wipe at my eyes, nodding.
"You'll never stop being Jamie Fields. The same way that you'll never stop being Aurora Dragunov now. They're just different chapters of the same story." She squeezes my hand. "A story that isn't over yet."
I take a shuddering breath, trying to gather myself. The confrontation with Sienna has left me emotionally raw, exposing nerves I've kept carefully protected for years.
"I don't think I'm ready," I admit, wiping the last tears from my face. "To cast someone as my mother, I mean."
Hannah nods, giving me space to continue.
"It's not just about finding an actress who physically resembles her. How can anyone capture all the little things that made her who she was?" My voice quivers slightly. "The way she'd hum while cooking Sunday breakfast. How she always smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. The specific way she'd raise her eyebrow when she caught me in a lie. The little smirk she'd give Dad whenever she caught him sneaking a finger of batter from the mixing bowl."
I stare down at my hands, watching them tremble.
"Whoever we pick will just be a cheap imitation. And that's not how I want to remember her. That's not how I want the world to see her."
Hannah is quiet for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Then her eyes light up with that specific spark that means she's had an idea.
"What if you played her?" she asks, leaning forward. "Who better than the one person who knew your mother best?"
I blink, caught completely off guard. "Me?"
"Yes, you! You could channel everything you remember about her. All her little mannerisms and expressions." Hannah's excitement builds as she speaks. "It would be more authentic than combing for an actress who'd need weeks just to scratch the surface of who your mom was."
"I'm not an actress," I protest weakly. "Not anymore. Not for years."
"But this is your chance to stand back there." Hannah gives me a look. "Isn't this what Ruslan is offering you? A chance to live your dreams and honor your mom at the same time?"
The idea settles over me like a familiar blanket. Playing my own mother. Bringing her to life through my memories, my movements, my voice.
"Your mother lives in you, Aurora." Hannah grips my hands, her eyes blazing with conviction. "Everything you just described. You've been preserving those memories for seven years. You've kept her alive in your mind all this time."
My throat constricts at her words.
"And it's not just memories," she continues. "Look at how protective you are of the people you love. Where do you think that comes from? The way you always notice the little details that everyone else misses? The stubbornness when you know you're right? That fierce love that makes you willing to sacrifice everything?"
I close my eyes and see my mother's face—clear as day—smiling at me from across our kitchen table in Kansas City.
"Those aren't just traits you admired in her. Those are parts of her that live on in you. You're her legacy, Aurora. In everything you do. In every choice you make. In every breath you take." Hannah's eyes are unwavering. "Bring her back to life. And let the world see her the way that you did."