Chapter 29 Inessa
INESSA
The elevator climbs toward my mother's penthouse, and I know I'm ready for this confrontation, no matter what Yuri's voiced concerns were before I left him in the car.
The woman reflected in the polished steel doors bears no resemblance to the frightened girl who once begged her father to let her mother come home.
I've grown so much since that time, and I owe most of that to Yuri.
The doors slide open to reveal her apartment, not the hallway I expected.
She knows I'm coming because I called her, played the waif, acted like I needed "Mommy" to come to my aid after all.
And she bought it, hook, line, and sinker.
I step out of the elevator and immediately, I'm smacked by how pretentious my mother's tastes are.
The entire place with its white marble and leather seems designed to showcase how much money she has, which is the polar opposite of what I pictured for more than a decade of my life as I wondered what she was doing, where she was.
Now I know.
My mother waits near the windows, wearing an elegant dress in cream silk that emphasizes her figure, and from behind, she could pass for a woman decades younger.
But when she turns, the coldness in her eyes reveals what she truly is.
And she doesn't look so happy to see me at first, but I didn't expect her to be thrilled.
She's hoping to destroy me.
Of course her acting will slip out of place now and then.
"Inessa. My beautiful daughter."
Her feigned smile radiates warmth.
Too bad I know what hovers beneath the surface.
"I knew you would eventually see reason."
I came here for one reason only, to keep her distracted and busy while her empire falls, and if I must suffer her for a few hours, that's what I have to do.
I remain near the elevator, feeling stiff and out of place.
Months of living with Yuri and the genuine warmth he shows me in spite of his dominating personality have helped me know what safety feels like, and this apartment does not feel safe at all.
"You said we needed to meet," I tell her.
My feet inch closer to her as I study her face.
I'm amazed that I look so much like her, yet my heart isn't at all black and marred with hatred the way hers is.
"I said I wanted to save you from the terrible mistake you've made."
She moves toward an antique bar, selecting a bottle of vodka from a shelf and nodding at me.
"Marrying that animal, living in his fortress, becoming part of his criminal empire. None of that represents who you truly are."
She pours two glasses and waves one in the air.
"I'm not going to bite, dear," she chides and lifts one eyebrow as she waits for me to come get it.
I accept the glass she offers but don't drink.
Trust died along with my father.
I watched her pour this, but I have no clue what was in the glass before she did.
"You killed Batya," I say, watching her face for any flicker of reaction.
"I freed you from a man who spent years filling your mind with poison about me."
She sips her drink with perfect composure, like we're not talking about murder.
"He turned my own daughter against me, convinced you that I was some kind of monster who deserved to be cast out and forgotten."
"You stole from our family business…"
I set the glass down, and she watches me carefully.
The pretense is slowly lifting as her expression shifts from saccharine-sweet affection to the ruthless bitterness beneath it.
"I took what belonged to me by right of marriage and partnership. What your father promised me when we wed, then tried to deny when he decided I had become inconvenient to his plans."
Anger flickers in her voice before she controls it.
"He threw me out of my own home, denied me access to my own child, expected me to disappear into poverty and obscurity."
The justifications flow from her mouth like she's been memorizing them for a play every day since she walked out that door.
She's rehearsed this speech countless times, polished each rationalization until she believes them completely.
In her twisted version of history, every crime becomes justified self-defense.
"So you waited this long for your revenge?"
My accusations aren't subtle at all.
She has to know I'm not here to beg for her mercy and help.
I'm not a good playactor like she is, which makes me honored to have a real heart yet untouched by the darker things in this world.
"I waited eleven years to reclaim what was stolen from me."
She approaches me slowly, rounding the end of the bar.
"But even when I gave you every opportunity to make the correct choice, you chose him over me."
This is a depth of delusion I had no idea she lived in.
She genuinely believed that orchestrating my father's assassination would drive me into her arms, make me grateful for her intervention.
"You challenged my marriage in court?"
I ask, more out of my own curiosity. "Why?"
"He's brainwashed you, kotyonok."
Reaching out, she tries to touch me, but I stiffen.
Her fingers feel cold against my skin, and madness burns in her eyes.
She's gone completely insane.
The need to punish my father for casting her out has made her lose her mind.
"You poisoned Alina." I swallow bile as it rises.
It's been less than ten minutes, and I have to survive this until my phone rings with a call from Yuri.
"I provided motivation for you to make better decisions. Your friend will recover completely. I ensured the dosage was carefully calculated, just enough suffering to demonstrate what happens when you continue defying me."
My hands curl into fists. She has no moral boundaries left at all.
Anyone who stands between her and her goals becomes expendable, their pain merely a tool for manipulation.
I wonder if this is the woman Batya married and fell in love with.
Did she hide her evil black heart from him too and when he discovered it, that's when he got rid of her?
"And the attacks on my showroom? The warehouse fire?"
"Pressure tactics designed to prove your husband couldn't protect you or your assets."
She moves to the windows, gazing out at St. Petersburg.
"But you inherited your father's stubbornness. You had to learn through suffering that opposing me accomplishes nothing."
I follow her toward the glass, noting that we stand thirty floors above the street.
A fall from this height would kill instantly.
One tiny push from her balcony and I'd be free of her.
That black thought makes me shudder and stop far away enough that I can't touch her.
I won't be like her.
"You underestimated Yuri."
"Did I? Your husband possesses intelligence and ruthlessness, certainly. But he remains predictable in his responses. Men like him always choose violence first, strategy second. That makes them easy to manipulate once you understand their patterns."
She's wrong about him, but I don't correct her mistake.
Arrogance will serve my purposes when this conversation reaches its inevitable conclusion.
"What happens now?" I ask.
"You've confessed to multiple murders. Do you expect gratitude for destroying my life in order to save it?"
"I expect you to acknowledge that everything I've done served your ultimate benefit."
She turns to face me, and finally, I see the cracks around the edges of her mask.
She's not even aware she's glaring at me.
"Your father poisoned your mind against me from childhood, convinced you that I was evil incarnate. But I'm the one who risked everything to free you from his control, and then from your husband's domination."
The delusion runs deeper than I imagined possible.
She's rewritten history so completely that she views herself as a heroic mother making noble sacrifices.
The murders, the manipulation, the systematic destruction of my happiness—all justified by her perverted version of love.
"Free me to become what? Your puppet instead of theirs?"
"To become yourself. The woman you were meant to be before men started controlling every aspect of your existence."
She grabs my hands with surprising strength, her grip almost painful.
"Leave with me tonight. Walk away from St. Petersburg, from Russia if necessary. We'll rebuild your business somewhere clean and new, somewhere your past can't follow."
Despite everything she's done, she actually believes we can establish a normal mother-daughter relationship.
That I can forget about the corpses in her wake and embrace her as family.
"What about Yuri? He won't simply let me vanish."
"Your husband will be dead before the week ends. I have associates who specialize in making problems disappear permanently."
The way she says it—like she’s already got the plans in motion—makes my blood go cold.
The threat crystallizes everything for me.
This isn't about money or business or even revenge anymore.
This woman is so consumed by her own narrative that she'll murder anyone who threatens it.
And the scary part is, I think she'll kill me too if I don't play along.
"You're completely insane," I tell her.
Her face transforms with rage, and for the first time tonight, I see the monster beneath the maternal performance.
"Insane? I'm the only person thinking clearly in this entire situation.
Your father brainwashed you against me from birth.
Your husband has corrupted you into his criminal accomplice.
Everyone you trust has destroyed pieces of your soul, and I'm the only one fighting to save what remains."
Her voice rises with each accusation, spittle flying from her lips as her careful composure finally shatters.
This is her true self—a woman driven mad by years of festering resentment and delusional self-justification.
"Batya never hurt me or used violence to teach me," I say, backing toward the center of the room.
"I chose Yuri because he's honest about his nature. I don't even know who you are."
"How dare you."
She stalks forward after me as I back away.
"I gave birth to you. I nursed you through childhood illnesses, guided your first steps, loved you more than my own life. And you defend the men who destroyed our family."
"You destroyed our family when you left!"